Chapter Text
Clockwork, for all their immense sight, has never quite hated someone as much as they hate the Observants who are standing behind them in this moment.
It's not like they haven't tried to explain why the Observants' plan—to kick the can on Pariah, whose release is looming, then kill the one who facilitates his re-capture—is a bad one. They have! In return, they've had to fend off accusations of favoritism (of course they play favorites, but they'll be damned before they admit it to the Observants) and repeated threats to their role (please, as though they would ever get rid of the one Ancient that vaguely tolerates their presence at all) for a month as a result. You would think, and perhaps they do, that the master of time would have unlimited patience.
This would be incorrect.
Clockwork slips into their youngest form for a moment, glitches into an indescribable mess of pure temporal energy and gears and springs out of pure frustration, then settles into their oldest form and pauses the clock-face they've been monitoring. They grip their staff tightly with both hands. Not for the first time, the Ancient envies the ability of the living and their spirits to take a deep breath to calm themselves.
"Enough." They say, the first word out of their mouth in the last three days. The two Observants freeze in the middle of what had been an impassioned rant about Clockwork's responsibilities, and the pair shrink back as the master of time turns to face them, hood low over their face.
"Er, perhaps—" The braver of the two attempts, but flinches back when Clockwork lifts a single hand.
"Allow me to summarize your concerns again," Clockwork says, tone flat. "You are concerned over the continued existence of King Pariah Dark. You are also concerned over the potential danger that the hybrid known as Phantom may present, should he be manipulated by the one known as Plasmius. These are the two problems at the core of your complaints, are they not?"
"Well, that's not wrong."
Clockwork scowls hard enough that one of the Observants flinches, transitioning into their middle-aged form. "These are delicate issues, and in the scarce moments of peace you have allowed me I have worked toward finding a solution. I have, in fact, come across one. Both of these problems will be dealt with. If another member of your council comes to my Lair before Pariah's defeat to speak to me about this, I will not be merciful in my reaction. Take that message back to that testament to self-importance you call a council, in those exact terms. Is that clear?"
One of the pair lets out a tiny squeak.
"I will assume that's a yes. Leave."
With peace once again obtained in Long Now, they turn back to the mirror, stroking their chin. The unfortunate truth is that the bastard eyeballs have a point. Left to his own devices, Phantom—Danny—isn't strong enough to properly destroy Pariah Dark, nor would he choose to without the knowledge of what the tyrant has actually done. If Pariah is simply sealed again, nothing really changes about the state of the Realms, and the Observants retain their assumed authority over the scattered Lair-Kingdoms and Necropolises.
If his situation doesn't change, Danny will lose everything to the machinations of those who see his kind as a threat, the same ones that even now hide in the shadows after manipulating Pariah so long ago. In a misguided attempt to escape his pain, he'll leave himself more vulnerable than ever, and the resulting creature will become the greatest threat the Realms and the myriad living worlds have ever seen.
If Clockwork were willing to share the details of their existence, they would acknowledge that this was the way things almost always went. They can hardly be blamed for getting tired of seeing the same futures in their investigations, and while there is a way out of that bleak situation, it requires sacrificing one timeline's future to preserve the other.
As impartial as they try to be, they've never been fond of the practice.
So, this time, when Pariah Dark is unleashed and battles Amity Park's defenders, they nudge things ever so slightly. A distraction here, a hit not taken there. Even they can't simply write a script and force time to follow it. But they can create an opportunity in the vast improvisation that the timestream represents, and maybe, just maybe, the players in the show will take it.
Their manipulation done, they sit back to wait with a bowl of popcorn. If their belief isn't unfounded, this will be a mangificent show.