[21:06] ShinyHappyGoth: (I also figure that the blasting would not give someone powers ordinarily, but his body is so used to having them...)
[21:07] Jade: I figure that his body was like, "Yey look there they are! *GRAB*"
[21:07] ShinyHappyGoth: 'Zactly.
[21:08] ShinyHappyGoth: But before we get to that point, one of us really does need to look at Danny's cells under an electron microscope.
[21:08] ShinyHappyGoth: Just so we can be like "Dude? Your DNA's all... sticky."
[21:08] Jade: "And... green."
[21:09] ShinyHappyGoth: "But didn't we use a red dye?"
[21:10] Jade: "Dude, your DNA just roared at me."
[21:10] ShinyHappyGoth: Sam: "Awww, it's so cute!"
[21:10] Jade: "Did you not get the point? It just ROARED at me."
[21:11] ShinyHappyGoth: "Who's a cute little independently mobile genetic sequence? Yes you are! Yes you are!"
[21:11] Jade: "Sam, you're not naming the genetic code."

"This is serious, man."

"I know."

"We've got to do something."

"Dude, I know."

There was silence for a moment as they watched Sam count a massive wad of bills and jabber on about going and getting a Gucci bag, ending with 'I am quite rich, you know.'

Then Tucker said, "So, we can only snap her out of it with--"

"No way."

"But--"

"No way."

"Well, you could do it at least, since you're her boyf--"

"No. Way."

Another pause.

"Maybe we don't have to go that far," Tucker suggested.

"What are you thinking?"

"Remember what she kept wanting us to do, but we wouldn't ever do it?"

There was the sound of Danny's palm meeting his forehead. "Do we have to dress up for it?"

"I think we have to, to get in," Tucker said. "I still have my stuff from that phase I went through and I can take you to the place she took me."

Danny sucked in a deep breath through her teeth.

"...Only for her." A pause. "And we never speak of it again."

Sam took out her Razor and started chatting. "Oh hey, Star, so are we meeting up at the Gucci store or at that fabbity-fab new cafe?"

***

They left her tied up in Danny's basement, under Jazz's supervision while they got their...Danny was refusing to think of it as clothing. It was gear. Like hazmat suits and ghost equipment you'd strap on. It was only there because you needed it and because you needed it, it was okay that it made you look doofy.

Jazz was trying not to giggle and Danny shot her a Look, as they started untying Sam.

"Okay, we've figured out something that might help you, Sam."

One that didn't involve stripping.

It was a Monday. (It figured. The most horrible things usually happened on Mondays.)

It wasn't , really, a particularly notable day, in any measure--at least at the beginning of it. 7:37 AM. It was a school day. There were people going to work, eating, brushing their teeth, singing in the shower. Amity Park was not different from any other city in this respect. There were kids running to elementary school bus stops or the school itself, and middle school and bigger kids running stylishly to high school.

Dash Baxter was driving Paulina Machado to school. This was something that happened on Mondays and Wednesdays. Dash had always had a better chance with Paulina than anyone--note: because he was rich, the star quarterback of the football team, and a fox. But this year it was really going great, because Paulina had finally given up on the ghost kid and now Dash actually had a chance, y'know, of taking her to homecoming. Dash had no doubt that of course they'd be voted Homecoming King and Queen; it was only the natural order of things, duh.

Except that today Dash felt like, just a little freaky when he woke up, and when he got ready for school, and when he got outside the door of his apartment. Freaky enough that his stomach got all floppy on the elevator and he had to get off on the eleventh floor so that he could puke into the nearest trashcan.

Maybe Paulina wouldn't mind letting him use the bathroom when gets upstairs.

Coach always said to jog more when you were feeling queasy, nauseous, or diarrhea-prone, so Dash started jogging up the next three flights of stairs. This ended up making him feel worse, so by the time he reached the fourteenth floor's landing he was panting and looking distinctly green about the gills.

Something wasn't right. If Dash had known any big words, he'd have said there was an air of "malaise" and "malice" about the building. He had to settle for thinking it was "spooky."

Amity Park was often spooky. If you lived there, eventually you learned to trust your instincts regarding things that were spooky.

Dash's instincts weren't the best, but when he heard the growling down the hall to the left and behind him, and fell the chill that swept up the hallway, they were working pretty well. Mainly because they were telling him "Don't look; run."

So he did.

***

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's all perfectly under control. It was easy enough capturing the pups last time, so it shouldn't be any harder to do it now."

"Last time the levels of paranormal activity around the vicinity of the building weren't nearly so high, thus threatening an impending apocalypse."

"Even if it does nearly lead to an apocalypse, it's not as if we haven't dealt with rips in the dimensional fabric before, or knocked elder gods back into the ether. Besides, you need to have more faith in our boy. Our intelligence says he's averted several apocalyptic disasters before."

"I don't know--"

"--and think of the grant money we'll get once we take him on as a subject! You'd be able to do that little project of yours in Nassburg..."

There was silence.

"I'm positive the restraint collars will operate at the capacity we calculated, but whether or not they'll be able to overpower the hounds when they're at the apogee of their power is dubious at best. We're going to have to rely on your--"

"--Yes. I know."

"I'm assuming the human hosts are disposable?"

"As usual. The general was against it, of course, but you know how our friend works. He got authorization from higher than that for us to do what we have to do."

***

Dash Baxter was still running when he hit the street--his athletic prowess was what has saved him thus far, from the snarling, otherwordly beast that had been chasing him from the apartment building.

Of all places to run to, he headed for the school, but then that's where Invisobill--er, Danny Phantom was found, half the time, fighting ghosts through the halls of Casper High. It was almost as if he went there.

That's where Dash needed to go.

If he could get there before collapsing in exhaustion.

Dash squealed like a girl as he ran and people in the street screamed and darted away as they saw the beast tearing after him.

"EEEEEEE!"

***

Paulina was rushing to get ready for school. How was she supposed to look like a vision of beauty and perfection if she only had an hour to get ready instead of two?!

"Maamaaa, where's my Tutti Frutti Super Cutie Hot Fuschia Mango Glossy lipstick?" she whined at the top of her lungs. "I absolutely, positively can't go to school without it! I'll be uuugly!"

"It's in your dressing table where it always is, princesa!" came her mother's sunny voice from the living room. Paulina could hear their maid, Florence, starting breakfast. Not that Paulina ever ate breakfast. It was too fattening to start the day with food.

"...Oh."

There were eyes peeking out from the crack in her closet, not that Paulina noticed. She was too busy applying mascara and admiring her beautiful eyes.

She was also too busy to notice how decay spread from the closet across the floor, starting to go up the walls and twisting over her bed.

In fact, she was too busy to notice anything, until hands sprouted on her chair and clamped down on her arms, and over her mouth.

Paulina shrieked the loudest muffled shriek she could, and her lipstick was jostled from her hands and broke on the floor.

"Muff Mutti Futti M'fuper Kootie Hat Fufia Mingo Goffy miffpift!" she shrieked, as the chair was dragged into the darkness of the closet.

Very roughly translated, that was: "my lipstick!"

The closet doors slammed shut.

***

Yes! Almooost there... Dash thought, as the school came into view.

He tripped.

This bites!

Mondays did indeed totally suck.

***

A little while later, a teenage boy was sitting in his first period biology class, firmly stuck to the top of his desk by a puddle of sticky drool.

It had been hard enough for Danny to take care of the whole Shandor building nonsense during the summer when he had nothing else to do, but now that school had started again, it seemed that all he could do lately, when he wasn't fighting--to stay sane--was to sleep.

"Snrt." Drool.

His textbook was propped up as if he was reading it, covering his face.

"Zzt. Snrk."

However, that didn't block the sounds of his snoring.

"Mr. Fenton!" Lancer suddenly thundered, in the middle of his (droning) lecture.

"Bus-ted," Sam intoned from next to him.

One of the only bonuses of school--he could see Sam there, even if she was still grounded after school. (He was no longer grounded, but if it weren't for Jazz covering for him he'd never get out of the house, since his parents kept a close eye on him now).

"Snrt. Kzz--what?" His head darted up and he knocked his book to the floor, then realized he was covered in drool and shrugged his face against the shoulder of his t-shirt to get it off.

The class laughed.

"Mr. Fenton, I take it I'm such a deplorable teacher you can't even stay awake for class. Again?"

"Well..." Tucker started to say and Danny elbowed him in the side.

"Uh, no, Mr. Lancer, it's just, uh, I--uh--"

"--He has a job now, Mr. Lancer," Sam piped up helpfully. "To save up for college and...and he gets stuck with the late shift a lot..."

"I don't believe I was talking to you, Miss Manson--I was talking to Mr. Fenton. Now, where is this job, hmm?"

"Uh, it's..." He looked around the room, desperately trying to think of a place that someone like him could believably work at. "It's..."

"I thought so."

Danny cringed.

It seemed to just be a normal cringe because he'd gotten in trouble.

However, to Sam and Tucker, that cringe meant something was wrong. His face contorted and looked pained and he let out of a huff of blue fog, hiding it by clamping his hands over his mouth.

The whole world was a swimming blur of freezing cold that left him shuddering in his seat, and Mr. Lancer's voice started to echo and mute in his head at the same time.

It was like his ghost sense times one hundred.

"Danny? You okay, man?" Tucker asked quietly, ignoring Lancer.

"Yeah. I'm fine, just tir--"

Lancer was turned away, chalking something about photosynthesis even as he lectured, as his entire class looked at the student he was lecturing, who was crashing like a slow-moving train wreck, the blood rushing away from his face, his eyes rolling back in his head as he shivered with cold.

Oh no. Something wrong, something's-- He tried to talk but he couldn't get the words out of his throat.

"--See me after class. There's no way you can learn unless you actually pay attention, Mr. Fenton, and I don't see how you can do that if you're sleeping through my classes--"

Thud.

"Danny!" Sam and Tucker cried and they grabbed hold of him as he started to black out and slipped out of his chair to the floor.

It was then that Lancer turned around, looking alarmed and concerned.

"Count of Monte Cristo! Kwan! Run down and get the school nurse. Mr. Foley, Miss Manson, get him flat on the ground and get his feet up."

Danny was shivering and shuddering on the floor, the whites of his eyes showing because they were rolled back into his head.

He kept shuddering, his ghost sense--and some other part of him--crippling him. Speaking in a monotone, words rushed out of his mouth quickly and steadily, in what would have sounded like a stream of pointless babbling, if it hadn't been so damn creepy:

"Eli Baltuti Ima''Idu Mituti. Alka ana erimha, alka ana urbattu, Peta Babkama Luruba Anaku. Alal kasadu. Gi adi la basi alaku."

Danny was doodling, pretty much completely bored out of his mind, dum deedly dum doodle do.

It was a sad state of affairs, but he actually preferred having his captor around. At least then he had someone to talk to.

In the meantime, doodle-doodle deedle dum, he went at the doodling more than he ever did in class, sketching things he remembered from home--the sign on the Nasty Burger, Fentonworks, Tucker's face, Bearbert Einstein, Sam...

He didn't want to forget anything any more than he wanted to be forgotten.

Danny stood and looked out at the ocean, as the storm clouds rolled in and the waves grew choppy. He watched with blue eyes until the grey waves roiled and changed and looked to him that they were boiling, until they drew his vision into the depths, and each curve, each collision, was a horrible impossibility, a twisted flow of energies that made him think of the unseen and unheard.

(Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.)

It started to rain now, in cold sheets. The police tape had been taken down. The evidence had been collected by the forensics teams. Now all that had to be done was the clean-up--the beach patrol would probably be by to turn over the sand so the runes were gone.

Step by step, his feet sinking slightly into the soggy ground, he walked over to the strange symbols the cult had made, congealed lines of unremarkable brown stained in the sand.

For the most part, he tried not to think about the implications of being half-dead other than how they affected his life directly. The powers and how he used them to fight were important, and so was the Ghost World and his out-of-place status in it. What he really was, was a question that was still unanswered, but that was tied to the very human adolescent question of "who am I?"

Rarely did he think of what it really meant to be one of the unseen.

(Sometimes I believe that this less material life is our truer life, and that our vain presence on the terraqueous globe is itself the secondary or merely virtual phenomenon.)

This meant that he usually never considered the idea that perhaps there were things out there unseen to even him, things deeper and more terrible than any ghost he could ever meet, than any twisted locale in the Ghost Zone he could have the misfortune of wandering into.

Danny wanted to see them or at least know they were there. It was in his nature to be curious--that was what had gotten him zapped full of ectoplasmic energy and irrevocably changed into something inhuman in the first place.

It was like...he was the bridge between the solid world and the one that wasn't.

He had to know what was there that could possibly cross over. He had to know what he had to keep out.

Sam had originally said it was just a book and there was very little evidence that the original had been real and not an invention of Lovecraft's, but that...thing that had bubbled out of nothing made them all think otherwise, and Danny had to know for sure.

That was why he'd come back one last time, even though his friends had told him that maybe it was best that he didn't.

That was why he thought carefully for a moment, looking back in his memory for the right words, and repeated what the cultists had said in a whisper, stumbling over the words:

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn..."

(We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight.)

~CHOOOOMMM~ It was thought that could only be described as sound, drums in the deep. ~CHOOOOMMM~

Danny couldn't stop himself from imagining a huge crevice appearing in his brain, out of which black tentacles crept, spreading, spreading, coming out of his eyes and mouth and nose before he had a chance to scream. They wrapped around his face, and he saw miles out, into a place that was there and yet wasn't, into the dark and deep.

~CHOOOOMMM~ An iridescent eye opened and was staring back at him, as terrible thoughts twisted and writhed to life in his bound mind, like whalesong, but alien. But also...not so alien, like some deranged lullaby. ~CHOOOOMMM~

And the worst part of all was that somehow, in some way, Danny knew the great corpulent, slimy being was just some spawn-thing.

Not even the strongest.

It made him want to scream even more. It made him want to claw out whatever eyes were letting him see just so that he didn't have to look at it anymore.

Then the eye closed and when he came out of the dark, he woke up to find himself lying face up on the sand, the rain pelting his face. He was staring up at the sky, shaking and wondering how it had come to be that there was something that could make ghosts tremble and quake in fear at night.

His mouth felt wrong.

"Gah!" Hands went immediately to his eyes, his mouth, his face, feeling for tentacles, feeling for his head to be twisted into some unnatural slimy shape, but all he found was wet skin. He rolled out of the circle as quickly as he could and blasted at the sand, clearing it all away until there was nothing more than a soggy mound.

Danny refused to let himself look back out at the sea.

After some time, the natural defenses of the human mind took over, letting him calm, letting the horror fade and go fuzzy. Denial tried to creep in and sweep all he had seen away with a dismissive wave. It was the stress, it said. He was stressed and seeing things. It was his own overactive imagination. Nothing more.

But as comforting as ignorance would have been, this wasn't something Danny could wave away.

He stood and headed back to the beach-house, afraid to turn his back to the sea, peeking behind every so often to make sure there was nothing rising out of the deeps, but not long enough to actually see.

(...It was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.)

As he walked away, he battled with the feeling that was causing him the greatest amount of horror, which was clutching at his heart like some fiendish, slimy wraith with suckered hands.

Kinship.

Part of him had something in common with the thing he saw. Like a bug would feel kinship with a windshield--they were all part of the same big highway.





Danny knew full well that he was the bug.




(That is not dead which can eternal lie
And with strange æons even death may die.)

There had been talking. Their usual speculation-- ("Do you really think that was a shoggoth, Sam? I thought it was all supposed to be fiction..." "It's supposed to be. It's entirely possible that the Necronomicon was real and that the authors of the Lovecraft mythos drew from it when they were doing their writing--maybe thinking it was just fiction." "Hey, guys, I think we forgot the blanket and the coolers back at the beach. Oh well.") There had been usual plotting and planning and then the realization that all they could really do was wait and hope that the next time cultists tried to raise any fictional deities from beyond space and time, that they did it in their hometown so they could be stopped. Or preferably not at all.

None of them had wanted to sleep, but Jazz eventually made them, and they'd finally settled down for it. There weren't enough rooms in the beach-house as they'd rented out a split-level and it only had two bedrooms and three beds. Sam and Jazz were bunking in one room, Tucker had the tiny single. There was a couch-bed in the living room though, so Danny had called it, figuring it meant he'd get the TV all to himself late at night.

Now it meant that he could see the light coming in from the streetlights outside, casting eerie shadows all over. Great.

And Danny was just too macho to get up and turn the lights on (even though he really, really wanted to).

So he lay there in his t-shirt and pajama pants, the sheets pulled up to his ears, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, the sound of Tucker's snoring filling his ears.

Tucker could sleep through just about anything.

Lucky.

The next few days were fantastic. Tucker was apparently sex on legs on the boardwalk, due to the prevalence of geeks at the arcades and giggly, geek-loving hippy girls in some of the hippy clothing shops. He had a whole new directory of phone numbers in his PDA after a few days had passed.

Of course, he would not shut up about Kris, the little sister of Kiki, who apparently planned to keep in touch with him over the internet.

("She likes Doomed and she's read all of the Sin City tpbs, and man, she was really HOT.")

Danny and Tucker stuff themselves to the gills with food--that was their favorite part. Buying ten different things and splitting them amongst themselves. ("Oh man, you have GOT to try this fudge!" "The salt water taffy's totally great too. Ooh ooh--lemme have some of those fries.") That and the arcades. Although when they went to those, Sam beat them at everything, as usual.

DDR actually became a spectacle when Sam played it as it was situated near the front of one particular arcade, which made it so crowds tended to gather and watch. With Sam using the flip bar and generally being ten times better at the game than Tucker and Danny combined, she wound up drawing a crowd so big it partially clogged the boardwalk.

Jazz, who Danny feared would be a stick-in-the-mud after the whole marine biology museum thing, was surprisingly fun when they went to the amusement piers. She wound up winning nearly every game she played due to a fiercely competetive attitude and really, really good aim in the shooting games (she'd been practicing after sucking Danny into the Fenton thermos all those times). She'd also went on the Haunted Ultra Death-coaster five times and was the only one standing--and not throwing up--afterwards. ("I have some antacid in my purse! Do you guys need some?")

The last night they were there, Tucker convinced them to stay out late to watch a meteor shower on the beach.

Happy, but thoroughly vacationed out, they set up a blanket on the empty beaches near the bay, the only light coming from the well-lit casinos far across it on the part of the island that held Atlantic City, and passed around sodas and snacks while they watched the occasional little flecks of light zip across the sky.

"Ooooooooooooh."

Interesting how your entire world could change in a second. One minute up on stage and...

Danny tried not to think about what could've happened if he hadn't gotten the reality gauntlet from Freak Show and set everything to rights.

He tried REALLY HARD not to think about what would have happened if he hadn't managed to save Sam, Tucker, their families, and his own family.

As a result of all this trying not to think--and because of the cool night air--he was out cruising through the summer sky, half-patrolling, half-relaxing.

It was a quiet night so far--one little ghost in an old pet store (this derange mutant ghost ferret) and yet another random altercation with the Box Ghost--How does that moron keep getting out of the Ghost Zone?, Danny wondered--but otherwise? Nothing.

And there was no school in the morning, no tests to worry about, no unfinished homework.

"Summer vacation: Mankind's greatest invention," he said to himself, arms cross behind his head as he floated along.

His flying wasn't so aimless though--eventually, he found himself hovering over a rather large house, one with a light still on in a particular room despite the late hour.

Danny smiled despite himself and swooped in for a closer look.

A brief cursory glance let him know that Sam was alone, curled up on her be with a book, and he went invisible and intangible and flew in through the window.

He meant to go tangible again first, but...something made him not want to.

Just for a moment he watched her, sitting there all comfortable and cozy, just being herself, completely open and undeniably Sam in her black pajamas with little skulls on them. Her room was just as gloomy as usual with the dribbly black candles all over, but Danny liked it.

Sam never really did anything by halves.

He smiled at her.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and appeared, swooping down as if he'd only just come in through the wall and hadn't been a peeping Tom for a moment. (Uh, not that he'd actually ever be a peeping Tom. If Sam had been, like, naked or something, he wouldn't have stood there and watched--he would have just wanted to).

"Hi," he said.

Danny and Sam touched down on the floor of the Fenton Lab, and he went over and hit the button to close the portal, then went human again, and turned back to her.

"So..." he started, still looking quite pleased with himself.

It was then that they heard feet pounding excitedly down the stairs and they were met with a very excited Tucker, who started talking and didn't stop for quite some time.

"Man, I've been looking all over for you guys--dude, Danny, Jazz said you got your stuff for space camp in the mail and I just got our tickets to the comic convention," he said, waving said tickets around in the air. "So that means our trip is in the clear if we still have a ride, since Sam's goth thing is free. We are going on a ROAD TRIP. I can't wait until next week--finally no more school being a drag, and--hey, wait a second. Where've you guys been anyway?"

"Uh..." Danny said, his cheeks pink.

Tucker stared and then frowned. "You went to that bar place without me, didn't you."

"Sorry, I'll take you next time, I swear."

"Aw, MAN."

The hiiiiillls are aliiiiive with the sound of chaaaarfing!

At least the room Sam had rented for the night was full of the sound, as a certain someone was in the bathroom throwing up repeatedly.

It kept changing color. Danny'd had a few really weird drinks last night.

"...Okay, so--" Danny took a bite out of his burger and his fingers moved along the lines in his textbook as he read them. His lips were moving silently.

The Nasty Burger was full-up this time of day, as it usually was, but for once, Sam and Danny had a table just to themselves, as Tucker had stayed after-school for a big project the Technology club was doing--building a battle-robot for a competition.

And, since he had some precious free time, he was doing what he loved most in the whole, wide world.

Studying.

Oh joy.

On the upside...it wasn't so bad when it was with Sam. And now that Gregor was out of the picture, well...Danny was just a little bit happier.

"--so the beginning: To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles... Okay, so that's him wondering whether to fight back or not, against whoever's causing all the trouble--" Feebly, "...right?"

Being stuck in this stupid little room, as the subject of horrible experiments was...really not that bad in Danny's opinion.

Okay, so Bova had drained him of his blood and nearly killed him, but that was only because Danny had kicked him really hard in the nuts, after all. Afterwards, the alien-vampire had bandaged him up and given him time to recover, given him regular meals...

He even gave him a pad of paper to write and draw on (he'd started a journal) and some books (some of them were in English) so he wasn't out of his mind with boredom.

And hey, he wasn't getting alien larvae put into his stomach, at least, right?

He was actually starting to feel a little better. Bored, but...it kind of felt like he was in a hospital or something. Yes, you got poked and prodded and blood drawn occasionally, but the people doing it weren't trying to kill you.

Mind you, he knew there was going to be crazy-whacky stuff to come, but let's face it: his life back home had been full of Crazy, and the Farm had just made him Crazy--this was kind of tame, comparitively.

The only really bad things were a) Sam must've been worried out of her mind back at the Apartment Complex, and b) he wasn't going to be let go, and if he tried to force escape, he could get maimed and/or turned into what was possibly the most freakish undead hybrid ever.

So he just had to relax, go through with it all, and wait for an opening.

Looking thoughtful as he chewed on some mandarin oranges, he asked, Bova, who was sitting and writing something in a notebook, "Are we starting anytime soon? I feel better."

Danny had walked steadily out the door from the Security Office, head held high.

As soon as the door closed, his knees gave out, his legs shaking horribly, and he collapsed against the wall next to the door, his breathing ragged. Gagging he held a hand to his mouth, then flew through the bar, phasing through tables and chairs, through the door of the boy's rest room, through a stall wall, then went solid again in front of a toilet, dropping to his knees and throwing up until he couldn't throw up anymore.

Danny wished the Ray he knew was here. Ray had seen it happen, he knew exactly what she'd done. Exactly. He'd seen it.

Danny was really starting to worry, in fact, because now he was wondering if maybe, maybe something bad had happened to Ray this time.

In the meantime, he was alone in dealing with her.

Hopefully what he'd just done was going to guarantee he'd never have to deal with the White Rider ever again.

Panting, he collapsed against the stall wall, just sitting on the floor with his head buried in his knees and he did not stop shaking for a long, long time.

"Okay, my ghost sense is going off again, but my meter's picking up fuzz from all over. Are you guys getting anything?" Danny asked into his Fenton-phones, as he floated over the Mall.

So far, they'd trapped five ghosts, mostly low-powered but vicious animal types--one had been a rather ferocious white bunny rabbit with glowing red eyes. Danny was glad that he'd seen enough British comedy to realize that he had to be careful with it, but even then he'd still needed help. He'd have gotten a face full of nasty, big, pointy teeth if Egon hadn't blasted the stupid thing.

The door opened from the bar into what was, effectively, a sickly green void of endless nothing. There were doors floating in the air as far as the eye could see, and landmasses far off, but uh, the Ghost Zone wasn't exactly a scenic tourist hot spot.



"Just grab onto me and I'll fly us all over to where my parent's Ghost Portal is," Danny said, the eerie murk mometarily brightened as he transformed.

There was now a patch on his the right shoulder of his costume, one that was probably very familiar to the three men that had stepped into the nothing behind him.

When are Sam and Tuck going to understand that I'm sorry? Because I am. It's not exactly as if it's easy on my end, either.

ETA: I have a cousin?

ETA: SHE HAS GHOST POWERS?

ETA: Vlad is a fruit loop and a half and I'm going to have nightmares now. Hooray.

Note to Self: Listen to Tucker more. Continue keeping him away from objects or beings that offer to give him power.

It had hurt. They'd...done something and his stomach had squirmed, but then as he started getting feeling back, his head cleared, and he realized what they were doing and phased, and the...things just fell out of him.

He'd phased out and almost gotten away, too, but he'd went after the other captives and his powers futzed out and they'd clocked his already aching head again.

Definitely had hurt, but then they'd forced pills in his mouth, and said things about "keep him sedated for now until we can find a way" and "his genes would be a valuable addition" and "the young would be able to walk right through walls, they'd be unstoppable" and he felt nice and warm and fuzzy right now, as they threw him into one of the small individual cages.

"My head feels GREEN," he told the occupant of the cage next to him, and then he laughed where he lay on the floor.

Sam is driving me crazy with this Miss Teenage Happy Princess Pageant thing. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't have to enter or watch it. Geez.

ETA: Sam is...really awesome.

I mean, when she was riding the dragon and...

Uh.

We went to Nasty Burger and I kept messing up what I was saying.

Um.

Yeah.

Wow.