Categories > Cartoons > Danny Phantom > The Wielder

Field Trip

by slickboy444 0 reviews

Danny Phantom/Witchblade crossover. The ancient weapon known as Witchblade comes to town and sets its sights on Sam. However, she and Danny find out quickly that the Witchblade carries with it some...

Category: Danny Phantom - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover - Published: 2008-05-27 - Updated: 2008-05-30 - 4720 words - Complete

The Wielder
Chapter 1: Field Trip

AN: This a crossover between Danny Phantom and Witchblade. I’ve combined some features from each and a few details may not be the same. In terms of timeline, this story takes place during season three before Phantom Planet.

‘These mean character thoughts.’

Disclaimer: I don’t own Danny Phantom or Witchblade. They are the property of Nickelodeon and Top Cow comics.

Please don’t forget to review this story. Send it to me via email at or post it on the fanfiction website. I hope you all like it. Enjoy!


Greece – 80 Years Ago

“Mr. Irons! Mr. Irons! Come quick, we found something!”

Kenneth Irons turned had been waiting a lifetime to hear those words and quickly gave his full attention to the ongoing excavation. He rushed into the pit his crew spent the last several months unearthing. It felt like a lifetime since he found anything meaningful. All too often, these moments were quickly followed with disappointment. But this time felt different.

“What is it?” he asked as he approached the frantic worker.

“You’re hunch was right! This could be it!”

The worker summoned help from the others. They quickly gathered around an area not far from the temple base and started chipping away at rock and mud. Their efforts centered on a strange bulge protruding from the earth. Kenneth Irons watched intently as a shape began to emerge. With each inch dug, it became clearer. It was some kind of polished stone chest neatly carved out of granite and marble. The style didn’t match that of the temple and it didn’t seem as old as the surrounding structures, hinting that it wasn’t just another Greek artifact. There were some inscriptions on the top, but they were too worn to make sense of.

Irons anticipation grew. This could very well be what he had dedicated the last ten years of his life searching for. It was a search that began with his father, a renowned archeologist who built a reputation for pursuing relics with supernatural origins. As a boy he told him stories about one artifact in particular that had impacted history all the way back to ancient Egypt. Many believed it to be mere legend, but his father set out to find it. Many mocked his efforts, forcing him into obscurity. But Kenneth believed his father was on to something. Just before his death he believed it was close. Now he was about to finish what he started.

Once the workers had dug deep enough, they stepped back to let him examine it. They watched with great intrigue as the enigmatic man trailed his hand over the inscriptions. The writing looked pretty elaborate and much of it had been weathered by time. But something in them caught Kenneth’s attention.

“Get me a crow bar,” he ordered.

“But sir, don’t you think…”


The worker didn’t argue with his stern tone. One of the workers quickly handed him an iron crow bar, which he eagerly took and began prying at the seal. Nobody said a word. For all they knew this was just another artifact for Iron’s collection. Whatever was inside this thing must have meant a lot to him because he had them working for months on end on this site which every other notable archeologist said contained nothing more than old ruins.

Grunting with intent, Irons managed to break the seal on the stone chest. A thick cloud of dust shot out from inside causing a few of the workers to step back. Once the top seal was broken, Kenneth waved away the debris and peered inside. And for the first time in many years, his face came to life.

“It…it’s real,” he said breathlessly, “My father was right! The artifact is real!”

“What artifact? Are you going to tell us what this is all about?” asked one of the workers impatiently.

“The offspring of the Darkness and the Angelus…the balance between good and evil…the ultimate weapon,” mused Irons, “After all these years the Witchblade has been found!”

Reaching into the stone container, Irons pulled out the ancient relic. It resembled a gauntlet with sharp, claw-like fingers and a large red jewel on the top. It had a very alien appearance, consisting of dark colored materials unlike anything he had ever seen. Even though it was thousands of years old there wasn’t a hint of wear on it. This had to be it. There was no doubt in his mind.

“Looks like a fancy glove,” commented one of the workers.

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Irons distantly, “This glove has been worn by the likes of Cleopatra and Joan of Arc. With it, they altered the course of human history. And it was all done through a great power that was imparted to the wielder of this relic.”

“But that’s just a legend, right?”

Kenneth scoffed at such words. If there was one thing his father had taught him it was that legends don’t just come from anywhere. There was always some truth to it. Most were bland at best, but some were truly epic. And the Witchblade was one of those legends that was too great to be mere fantasy.

“Mr. Irons?”

“I can feel it’s power…” he mused, “Ready and waiting for a new wielder.”

With burning intent, Kenneth Irons rolled up his sleeve and revealed yet another surprise to his workers. His right arm was littered with strange marks. They ran from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist, converging around a circular symbol. The workers didn’t know what to make of it, but he didn’t expect them to know what they were. How could they know anything about magic or runes? They didn’t have the kind of knowledge imparted onto him by his father. While the legend of the Witchblade explicitly stated that only women could wield this powerful artifact, he was hoping that with a little help he could get around that.

“Time to put the legend to the test,” said Irons with a determined grin.

The workers watched anxiously as he prepared to slip the gauntlet onto his hand. He took deep breaths, anxious to see if the power would accept him. He summoned the energy within the rune on his arm, hoping it would protect him from whatever surprises the Witchblade may hold for him. The workers watched anxiously. Most weren’t expecting much, but nothing was ever certain when dealing with Kenneth Irons. If he was anywhere near as crazy as his father, there just might be some truth to this legend.

It was now or never. The power would be his. Placing his trust in the rune, he slipped the gauntlet onto his hand. Immediately, he felt something. But it wasn’t what he expected.

“AUGH! WHAT THE?! NO! NOOOOOOOOO!” he exclaimed.

The jewel on the Witchblade came to life and turned blood red. A mysterious energy surrounded Kenneth’s body, causing the marks on his arm to glow. The power was surging through him. It was more intense than he ever could have imagined. Suddenly, an agonizing pain shot through his hand and arm. Every nerve was set ablaze. It was as if the relic was eating his flesh.

“Let’s get out of here!” exclaimed one of the workers.

“Run! Run! Don’t look back!”

“That…that thing is a tool of the devil!”

Kenneth fell to the ground as his workers abandoned him, leaving him alone in a world of pain. The exotic material of the Witchblade came to life, shifting and convulsing in a strange way. It was like a living thing, trying to spit out something it didn’t like. As much as Irons wanted the power, he couldn’t hold onto it and the Witchblade made sure he paid the price for tempting a power he did not understand.

“ERRRAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” he howled as he finally managed to get the gauntlet off.

Gasping in agony, he looked down to see a pool of his own blood forming in the dirt. He then looked up his arm to see that the Witchblade had actually severed his hand and part of his arm. All that was left now was a bleeding stub, but the symbols were still glowing. Whatever power had come from the Witchblade, it reacted with the spell that was supposed to protect him. Now his mind was a jumbled mess of pain and madness. He looked at the relic with a mix of twisted hate.

“I…I won’t be denied. I will have the power! I WILL HAVE IT!”

Amity Park – Present Day

It was a beautiful day in downtown Amity Park. The sun was shining and for once there were no ghosts attacking. It was a pleasant change from the usual chaos and it came at the perfect time. A crowd had gathered just outside the museum of natural history. Among them included the students of Casper High School, who were there on a field trip to witness what their teacher Mr. Lancer boasted was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Of course, it was never as exciting as he made it out to be.

In addition, it was another opportunity for Mayor Vlad Masters to bolster his image. Having already taken a hit from incidents like the Vortex fiasco, he needed a bump in approval rating. So he organized a little media event involving a special ceremony for a limited time museum exhibit, courtesy of an old friend. He did his usual routine, making flashy speeches and smiling for the cameras as he spoke about the importance of this exhibit. But of course, he had other reasons for going through with this.

“And so it gives me great pleasure to open the doors of the Amity Park Museum of Natural History to you, my beloved citizens. Please take the time to enjoy the rare and unique collection of Mr. Kenneth Irons, the finest collector in ancient artifacts of our time. But enjoy them now because they’ll be on display for a limited time only. Thank you.”

The half-ghost, half-mayor bowed to his audience as they applauded. It was a typical response, one he had grown very good at manipulating for his benefit. Some, however, didn’t clap because they knew full well that Vlad’s image as the beloved mayor was all a farce.

“Can you believe they still clap for him?” said Danny Fenton bitterly, “You’d think they’d be tired of him by now.”

“He’s a slimy billionaire/politician in a clueless public. What did you expect?” shrugged Samantha Manson.

“I know. I should be used to it by now. I just don’t get how anybody could still believe him.”

Then from the streets, a familiar obnoxious figure in an orange jumpsuit wearing a ‘Victory for the V-man’ T-shirt chanted through a speaker.

“Way to go Vladdie! Let’s here it for the V-man! Give me a V!”

Jack Fenton looked around for support, but he only got awkward stares. In the crowd Danny lowered his head and covered his face. The world had a sick sense of humor for making his father an old friend and a big supporter of his greatest enemy.

“That answer your question?” said Tucker Foley.

“Oh man,” groaned Danny.

Danny Fenton had some luck. Here he was, Danny Phantom, the protector of Amity Park from all things ghostly, and his greatest enemy was mayor. When he began his ghost hunting activities it was hard enough. First everybody thought he was a menace and even his own parents tried to hunt him. Then he found out his dad’s old college buddy, Vlad Masters, was also half-ghost and held a grudge against his family and had a crush on his mom. He still gagged whenever he thought about it. Only he and his friends knew the truth behind Vlad’s deception. Not only was he stronger, he didn’t use his powers so nobly. And ever since he became mayor, his job had become more difficult.

“Hey, look on the bright side. At least we got out of class,” said Tucker, trying to support his friend while also trying hard not to laugh.

“I’d almost prefer a math test to listening to that,” he said pointing back towards his father.

“Somebody’s gonna give me a V!” said a frustrated Jack.

“Well he’s driven. You gotta give him that,” joked Sam.

“Whatever,” groaned Danny, “Let’s just get this over with. Maybe something in the Irons collection will help take my mind off this.”

Danny and his friends followed his class into the front doors. Jack kept chanting, but few took notice except those who pointed and laughed. Among them was Dash and Kwan, who made sure the lingering embarrassment stuck with Danny even as they entered the building. Mr. Lancer, taking on his usual role as the uptight administrator, directed everybody inside using a bullhorn. Nobody seemed too excited about this trip, but that never stopped him before.

“Move along people! The wonders of the ancient world await!” announced Lancer in an overly dramatic tone.

“Big whoop,” said Dash, “It’s just some rich guys collection of old toys.”

“Yeah, I’d rather go on a trip to the fireworks factory!” said Kwan.

“Enough!” said Lancer, “Keep it moving! These artifacts won’t be here forever.”

While the crowds filed in, Vlad made his way back to his limo. Along the way he shook a few hands and smiled for the cameras as was customary of mayors. He always found it amazing how eagerly the public ate this stuff up, but if it got his approval ratings up he could care less.

Once inside his limo, he was greeted by Kenneth Irons. He bore his usual stoic expression, not paying much attention to Vlad’s pandering. Irons was not a man who was easily swayed by charisma. He was always stern and focused. It helped him become a multi-billionaire, but did little for his social life. But he knew better than most people that Kenneth had his reasons for being reserved and they had nothing to do with his personality.

“Are you done gravelling, Masters?” said Kenneth impatiently.

“Don’t think of it as gravelling, old friend. Think of it more as maintenance,” said Vlad, “The public has a certain image of their mayor and if I’m to be a successful public figure I must do everything I can to maintain that image.”

“Even if it includes mindless events like these?”

“Oh quit your bellyaching! You’re the one who wanted as many people as possible to go through your exhibit. I needed something to get my approval rating up. As far as I’m concerned, we both win.”

Kenneth rolled his eyes. Vlad was nothing if not an opportunist. He would use anything to further his agenda. He knew nothing of subtlety or cunning. He swore one day that would be his undoing.

“So what’s next?” asked Vlad, “When do I get to see this artifact you’ve been obsessing over for the last 100 years?”

“We’ll start testing tonight,” said Kenneth, “But before that, I must see if anybody in this miniscule town gets a reaction from the Witchblade. If there’s a wielder around here it should let us know.”

“Sounds like a waste of time to me. Refresh my memory, how many times have you displayed this relic publicly and gotten no reaction?”

“2,623 times,” he answered without hesitation, “And I’m starting to get impatient.”

“You should talk. You have more time on your hands than most people,” commented Vlad, “One would think you’d find more practical uses for immortality.”

“Keep your voice down!” said Kenneth sternly, “I don’t need your public cronies to uncover my secret anymore than you need them to uncover your secret about being half-ghost! As far as the rest of the world is concerned I’m Kenneth Irons Jr., son of two famed archeologists and Fortune Magazines Entrepreneur of the Year and you’re Vlad Masters, you’re everyday billionaire turned mayor.”

Vlad fell silent. Irons was never afraid to remind him of the unique connection they shared. He knew about him being half-ghost and he knew about him having supernatural powers. Because of that, they had an unspoken agreement to keep each others’ secrets in exchange for mutual favors. It also made it so they couldn’t double cross one another because if one revealed the other’s secret, there was no doubt that the other would do the same. In some respects it was annoying because Vlad liked to be the one with the advantage, but around Irons his ghost powers were as useful as a paperclip.

The feeling was mutual for Kenneth. Looking down at his arm, he saw the mark left on his wrist from the fateful day he tried to wield Witchblade. The relic reacted with the rune that was supposed to protect him, causing some of the power to be imparted on him. That power gave him enhanced human attributes including strength, intelligence, and awareness. It also made it so he didn’t age normally. He still looked as young as he did the day he found the Witchblade. It even healed his hand, but not without leaving a nasty scar.

“I’ll make sure I hold up my end of the bargain,” sighed Vlad, “I’ll use my ghost equipment to unlock the Witchblade’s power so long as you do your part and allow me unlimited access to the rest of your artifacts.”

“If your machines do what you say they’ll do, you can have my entire collection for all I care,” said Irons, “The only artifact that means anything to me is the Witchblade.”

“Fine by me,” shrugged Vlad, “Although I still don’t understand how some fancy gauntlet can be so powerful that you’d spend a lifetime obsessing over it.”

“You don’t have to understand, Masters. You just have to do your part.”

The two men fell silent as the limo pulled out of the museum parking lot and headed back towards City Hall where Vlad was busy getting his equipment set up. Kenneth took one last look at the museum where his Witchblade was currently being displayed. He never liked putting it out in the open where someone could potentially steal it, but his only hope at unlocking its power was to find the chosen wielder. Even though Vlad was confident he could get around that pesky rule, Kenneth insisted on covering all the bases.

Who knows? This town was already famous for having ghosts. Maybe somewhere in this unassuming town the next wielder of Witchblade could be walking around. And if she was here, Kenneth Irons was ready to do whatever was necessary to ensure that he would control this power and nobody else.

Inside The Museum

Dozens poured through the museum halls, looking over the vast array of exhibits while teachers and tour guides told the elaborate tales behind the artifacts. Some were genuinely interested. Kenneth Irons had a knack for finding elaborately crafted artifacts, but most saw them as just another flashy gimmick. They were nowhere near as interesting as people like Mr. Lancer made them out to be.

“And to your left is the stunning display of the legendary Tokugawa Katanas!” said Lancer, still using his bullhorn to guide the students along, “Legends says that these swords contained mystical powers that allowed the Tokugawa dynasty to thrive for over 200 years in Japan.”

“Looks like a bunch of oversized butter-knives,” commented Dash.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” said Lancer snidely, “Legends also say that anybody who disrespects the swords will face an untimely end. So please show some respect for history.”

Dash scoffed while the rest of the class moved on with the exhibit. Danny, Sam, and Tucker lingered a bit to take note of the elaborate displays.

“Man, whoever this Irons guy is he has some expensive tastes,” commented Danny, “Why would anybody need jewels on samurai armor?”

“Must be a rich guy thing,” shrugged Tucker, “I can’t image what kind of car the guy must drive. It must be kickin!”

“Probably a useless show of upper class snobbery as well,” said Sam cynically.

“Hey, you should talk,” joked Danny, “Aren’t your parents rich too?”

“Don’t remind me. At least this guy spends his money on something worthwhile.”

“You think all these dusty old artifacts are worthwhile?” said Tucker.

“Compared to spending money on a 20 silk dresses imported from Korea, yeah,” said Sam.

“Wow, a dozen?” said Danny as they started walking with the class, “What were they going to do throw their own masquerade ball?”

“Bingo. And guess who they want to dress up for it.”

“Ouch,” said Tucker, “Oh well, could be worse.”

“Yeah right,” scoffed Sam.

The three friends kept walking, but Sam’s mood didn’t get any better. She had never been one to support events sponsored by other rich people. As far as she was concerned, they were a total waste of time when all that money could be put to better uses. Kenneth Irons may not be the worst in gathering all these historical relics, but it still wasn’t enough in her eyes.

Danny yawned, already bored as Lancer stopped to talk about some Greek statute. How one man could get excited about a statue was beyond him. Tucker kept himself occupied by playing some games on his PDA. Sam, however, began to wander. She didn’t see how Mr. Lancer could make these relics interesting so she decided to see some of this stuff for herself. Danny and Tucker didn’t seem interested, but being into goth she had an appreciation for certain relics. And some of the displays caught her interest.

She soon found herself wandering into an area the tours hadn’t gotten to yet. It wasn’t as elaborate as the others, but was positioned in an area that ensured everybody would pass by it at some point. On the surrounding walls were portraits of famous historical figures. Sam didn’t recognize most of them, but she noticed they were all female. Some like Joan of Arc and Cleopatra she recognized, but these portraits didn’t look like anything she saw in history textbooks.

“This guy must have a thing for women of the ages,” mused Sam.

As Sam looked around, her eyes fell upon the center of the room. There in a secure glass case surrounded by velvet rope was a strange looking artifact. It looked like some sort of gauntlet, but none like she had ever seen before. It wasn’t some rusted piece of metal once worn by some long-dead warrior. In fact, it didn’t have an ounce of wear on it. It seemed out of place for an exhibit displaying ancient artifacts.

“Hmm…wonder what this is?”

There was no label identifying it. There was nothing around to hint at what it was or where it came from. But for some reason, Sam was drawn to it. Maybe it was because it has this macabre look to it, like some sort of demon gauntlet or something. But there was more to it. It was almost as if it was calling out to her.

Standing just behind the velvet rope, she reached out to touch the glass casing. She didn’t even realize what she was doing, almost as if this thing had her in some kind of daze. Suddenly, the red jewel on the gauntlet came to life, flashing a bright yellowish color. Then it started to shake violently almost as if it were alive. And if she wasn’t mistaken, it was attracted to her.

“What the…”

“Sam! Hey Sam!” Danny called out.

Abruptly snapping out of her daze, she turned to Danny and then back to the relic. But to her surprise, the glowing and shaking stopped. It was as if the relic never even moved.

“Sam, come on!” urged Danny, “Lancer’s moving on to the next exhibit!”

“Uh right,” she said, not taking her eyes off the relic, “I’ll be right there.”

She took one last look at the relic, hoping to see something that would show she hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. But nothing happened. It just stood there in the glass, the mysterious hold it had on her never waning. Shaking it off, Sam finally tore herself away and ran off to catch up with her friends.

“You okay?” asked Danny, sensing she was a little distant.

“I’m fine,” she told him, “I just thought…never mind.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged.

Sam stuck close to Danny, feeling somewhat freaked out by what just happened. She didn’t usually get this anxious. Hanging around ghosts and helping Danny gave her a high tolerance for the strange. But something about that gauntlet relic stood out. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she set it aside for now. The last thing she wanted was to add more weirdness into her life.

But her moment with the relic didn’t go unnoticed. Watching from the shadows was a shady figure with long black hair wearing a trench coat. He was Ian Nottingham, a trusted confidante of Kenneth Irons who used his unique ‘talents’ to perform tasks for his master. Often those tasks had questionable legality, but this was one of his more menial jobs. Whenever the Witchblade went on display, it was his job to watch it. And if anybody tried to steal it they would face the blunt end of his swords. For the most part it was a boring job that he despised doing, but it had suddenly taken an interesting twist.

He didn’t know the Witchblade as well as Ian, but he knew a reaction when he saw it. He was certain his master would be intrigued so he took out his cell phone and called him.

“What is it, Ian? I’m busy.”

“Master, it’s the Witchblade. It…it reacted to somebody,” said Ian.

“Reacted? To who?”

“Some girl here on a school field trip,” he said, “Couldn’t have been older than 14.”

“14? Are you sure?”

“I saw it move with my own eyes. I’m positive.”

Over the line, Kenneth Irons took a moment to digest this new development. Never in a million years would he expect to get a reaction from the Witchblade at Amity Park of all places. Fate it seemed wasn’t without a sense of humor. But the timing was perfect. If a wielder was close that could only benefit his chances of unlocking its power. Hopefully Vlad’s equipment would do the rest.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Ian.

“Follow her. Don’t let her out of your sights, but stay incognito. We may need her.”

“Yes master. But I find it hard to believe a girl like her would be the wielder to a power as great as the Witchblade.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Ian. See what you can find out about her and call me every hour with an update. I’ll send a courier to retrieve the Witchblade, but be ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes, master,” said Ian.

Upon hanging up his phone, Ian slipped into the shadows and began trailing the young woman. If he heard right her name was Sam, which he assumed was short for Samantha or something. His special skills allowed him to catch up quickly. Once she was in sight he maintained a safe distance from her so she would be none the wiser. She still didn’t look like much of a wielder, but it was not his right to question his master. If this girl elicited any other strange reactions he wouldn’t hesitate to take her down. Besides, she was just a teenage girl. How tough could she be?


Up next: Vlad’s experiments on the Witchblade lead to an unexpected result.
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