Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Ghost Writer was in prison for breaking the Holiday Truce. Was it his proudest moment? Looking back on it, not really. But put any ghost in his shoes, after Phantom had just torn up the most recent object of his Obsession, and they would probably throw all logical thought out the window, too.

As with any event that occurred in his afterlife these days, he desperately wished to pour all of his thoughts on the matter onto a piece of paper. He already had the first stanza written out in his head (no, he would not be sharing it, not until it was finished). The only thing stopping him was that neither Walker nor his goonies would give him anything to write with. Not even a little bit of chalk to scrape against the cold, green stone of his cell. His hands itched and his core felt restless the longer he went without putting pen to paper. If the Ghost Writer didn’t find a new way to satisfy his Obsession, soon, he felt like he would go insane.

Ghost Writer would describe himself as a creative thinker, which was why poetry came easily to him. It also meant that he hardly ever lacked inspiration. Most people would look at his scenario and think there wasn’t anything good about it at all, but here’s the key that most people miss: the Ghost Writer was Obsessed with story telling , not story writing , which makes a huge difference.

Ultimately, the Ghost Writer loved stories, in any form they took (he wasn’t very picky). Poetry was his favorite, but he also enjoyed the occasional novel, and maybe even a song or two. One type of storytelling that the Ghost Writer rarely dabbled in was oral storytelling. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, it was that he hardly found the chance to use it.

The Ghost Zone was chaotic, sure, but as long as you stayed in your Lair, you hardly ever saw trouble, and the Ghost Writer was in his Lair more often than not. When he got sucked into a particular poem or story, he would work non-stop for what would feel like years (but there was really no concept of time in the Ghost Zone, so who’s to say how long these bouts of hyperfixation actually lasted). Oral storytelling worked best with an audience, predictably, but visitors to his Lair were exceedingly rare.

The way he felt when telling a story out loud was hard to describe. It was the oldest method of storytelling in the world, and thus carried a lot of power. It connected you to the whole human race, dead or alive, because before there was anything else, there was storytelling. Sometimes the Ghost Writer imagined he could feel every ghost in the Zone and in the Living World listening in when he wove a story with his voice. It was fast and loose and collaborative with everyone around you. You became closer with those you shared stories with, and learned more about one another. Nothing in the world could engage you like someone telling a riveting story. You found yourself on the edge of your seat, laughing, crying, filled with anxiety, filled with anger, as if you were experiencing the story first-hand. There was truly nothing like it.

It was a shame the Ghost Writer hardly got the opportunity to tell stories out loud. Until now, that is. Remember that “bad thing” from earlier? The fact that the Ghost Writer was thrown in prison without his keyboard? Well, it’s not all bad. Because what else can a prison full of Ghosts under impossibly strict rules do but tell stories? You can take everything else away, but this is something that will always remain.

And so, the Ghost Writer unexpectedly thrived in Walker’s prison. The Ghost Writer’s unique power was the ability to reshape reality to whatever he wanted (within reasonable limits), strengthened by his keyboard. Without the keyboard, the changes he could make were superficial, at best, and never lasted for very long. The Ghost Writer would say his power peaked when he created that Christmas Rhyme to teach Phantom a lesson, but that was a special circumstance, fuelled by a feral rage and protective instinct over his Obsession that was impossible to achieve otherwise. Normally, the things that he changed were pretty mundane. Like giving a pleasant and relaxing smell to his Lair when he sat down to write, or defogging his glasses if they got steamed up in his cup of tea.

In prison, the Ghost Writer was hardly allowed these privileges (Walker ran a tight ship). The only times the prisoners were allowed any sort of relaxation was during their free time in the yard, where they could socialize or exercise or do any other sanctioned activities, of which there were very few, and always under the ever-watchful eye of Walker’s guards.

As the Ghost Writer’s stay in prison grew longer, he found himself growing more and more restless. He found that he kept losing time, and would come back to himself after an unknown amount of time, muttering frantically, fingers flying over an imaginary keyboard. Sometimes, little aspects of whatever he had just been “writing” about would manifest and linger for a few seconds, before disappearing again. One day, after snapping out of one of these dissociative episodes, the Ghost Writer watched, intrigued, as a tiny version of himself floated lazily around his cell while sipping out of a tiny mug.

Regrettably, he couldn’t remember what he had been trying to write in his haze, but this was the first time he had seen something other than abstract shapes or colors come out of something like this. His powers seemed to be acting more erratically, without some outlet for his Obsession. Worried that the guards would see this tiny Ghost Writer and decide to inflict some horrible punishment on him, he swatted at it with his hand to try to disperse it, and it disappeared in a cloud of smoke. This gave him an idea, however. 

During one moment of free time in the yard, the Ghost Writer decided to test his idea. He approached some bored-looking prisoners who were taking turns bouncing a small ball of rubbery ectoplasm against a wall. One of them was big and burly and looked permanently wet, with a huge beard and many ocean-themed tattoos, very much a stereotypical pirate. The second ghost was much smaller than the first, and wore thick, rectangular glasses and a cape intermittently embroidered with stars. The third ghost of their little entourage had ghostly green flames for hair (not unlike Ember) and was clearly restless and the most bored by their simple game.

The Ghost Writer cleared his throat as he approached and all three Ghosts turned to him with indifference. The pirate paused mid-throw of the ectoplasm ball.

“I can’t help but notice the utterly uninspired activity you all seem to be engaged in,” he began. “I can hardly believe you would squander away your precious free-time doing something so mundane. Would you, perhaps, like to hear a story instead?” The Ghost Writer grinned expectantly, and maybe a little too eager.

The three ghosts glanced at each other, unsure of what to make of this strange newcomer, before the one with fiery hair asked in a raspy voice, “What kind of story?”

The Ghost Writer rubbed a hand through his goatee in thought. “Well, what are you interested in?” After a long pause, in which the fire ghost seemed to be thinking very hard, he continued. “If I may make a suggestion, I can tell all sorts of stories. Ones you’ve never heard before and ones you’ll never experience again. You look like you enjoy a good adventure, maybe one with a lot of action?”

The fire ghost nodded in agreement, his interest piqued. The flames on his head grew taller and more active, after seeming almost bored and sluggish earlier.

“What if I told you, that I could make you a part of such a story, so that even in the confines of this prison, you could be free.”

As he spoke, the Ghost Writer held out both of his hands. In them appeared a miniature version of the prison courtyard, with miniature versions of the three prisoners standing before him. His core thrummed in pleasure at finally being exercised after such a long time of disuse.

“What would you like to do with your freedom?”, the Ghost Writer asked. There was a new edge to his voice, something more otherworldly and filled with power. The three ghosts were unknowingly leaning forward to peer into the Ghost Writer’s hands, sucked into the beginning of his story.

Got ‘em, he thought smugly.

Quietly, but with an intent so hot it could not be mistaken as anything other than truth, the fire ghost said, “I want to burn this place to the ground.”

The Ghost Writer smirked. “And so it shall be done. The Ghost of Flames, sick of being trapped and ordered around, burnt the prison to the ground. Countless prison guards and even the warden himself tried to stop him, but he was too powerful. He rampaged through every corridor, spewing flames as he went, until nothing in the prison was not ablaze. At this moment, the ghost made his escape, and not a moment too soon, because something deep in the prison exploded into an inferno, throwing debris everywhere into the Ghost Zone. The ghost was finally free to ignite and burn as he wished, with no pesky rules in the way.”

The three ghosts watched on in awe as each scene that the Ghost Writer described played out. The miniature fire ghost lit fires in every room of the prison, fought miniature guards and punched a miniature Walker square in the face. As he flew from the miniature prison, a miniature ball of fire exploded from somewhere in the prison walls, and miniature pillars of smoke billowed out from the windows.

The fiery ghost seemed unable to speak, with an excited gleam in his eyes as he watched this small copy of himself do what he’d always wanted to do since being imprisoned.

The pirate ghost shoved the flaming ghost back and thrust himself uncomfortably close to the Ghost Writer’s face, causing him to drop the small illusion. “Me next!” he demanded. “I want my ship back, and I want to sail far away from here.” He smelled vaguely fishy now that he was so close, and the Ghost Writer had to take a step back to keep from gagging.

He cupped his hands in front of him again, once more conjuring a miniature display of the pirate ghost inside Walker’s prison. “And how do you intend to retrieve your ship?” he prodded.

Seemingly thinking of this for the first time, the pirate ghost hesitated for a moment, and then finally decided. “My crew is competent. They would obviously discover this prison and sail here to break me out.”

The Ghost Writer nodded, repeated the information, and at his words, a tiny pirate ship appeared and floated outside of the tiny prison, its broadside facing one wall. “Ever loyal,” he began, “the pirate Captain’s crew tracked his whereabouts to Walker’s well-hidden prison. They fired-”

“My ship doesn’t look like that,” the pirate ghost interrupted with obvious frustration. “And it doesn’t fly.”

Somewhat comically, the miniature ship in question seemed to pause in the middle of firing its cannons, smoke and fireballs suspended in midair as the Ghost Writer stopped talking. He blinked, thrown off his rhythm from the interruption. “Well, we certainly can’t be inaccurate, here,” he said, recovering quickly. “What does your ship look like, then?”

“This is a galleon,” the pirate began with passion, “We could have never been successful pirates in this clunky bastard. Our beauty was a two-masted schooner. Much faster and nimbler.”

“Alright.” The Ghost Writer amended. “The pirate crew sailed to the prison in a two-masted schooner.” The pirate ghost nodded in confirmation, as the miniature ship got smaller and slimmer, and its large, square sails rotated inwards. “They fired-”

“I said it doesn’t fly, either,” said the pirate ghost more severely.

“And it doesn’t fly,” repeated the Ghost Writer. Thinking for just a moment, he continued. “I know how we can remedy this.” His voice, once again, gained its otherworldly tone as he narrated. “The Captain’s prison was located on a remote island in the middle of the ocean.” Immediately, a small circle of water with an island in the middle appeared above the Ghost Writer’s cupped hands. The tiny prison dropped down onto the island, and the ship splashed into the water.

“Are you satisfied?” he asked, slightly annoyed that his story had been interrupted twice already.

The pirate scrutinized this mini scene thoroughly, and after a moment nodded in consent. “That’s more like it! Now, I want to see this bloody prison get blown to smithereens!”

“Finally,” sighed the Ghost Writer. “Where were we? Oh, yes! Despite their sturdy appearance, the stone brick walls of Walker’s prison were no match for the pirate’s cannons. They fired all at once, instantly crumbling the outer wall. The crew stormed in, leaving mayhem in their wake, until they reached their captain. The Captain rallied his men and as typical pirates, they raided the warden’s office and made off with all the valuables taken from inmates after being arrested. It took no time at all for the captain and his crew to reach their ship once again, and sail away to unknown adventures.”

The scenes described by the Ghost Writer each played out in turn, and the ghost pirate watched with rapt attention, a gleam in his eyes. As the tiny pirate ship sailed away from the wreckage of the prison, the Ghost Writer dispersed the illusion. He felt satisfied for the first time in a while, and after seeing the amused faces of the three ghosts in front of him, he preened slightly, basking in their enjoyment. This is what storytelling was all about.

The third ghost in the cape, who had not spoken yet, shyly stepped forward. The Ghost Writer could see that he held some sort of book in his hands, though he couldn’t recall if the smaller ghost had been holding it from the beginning.

“Excuse me,” he said, quietly, in a nasally voice, “but I can’t help but ask: Have you ever played Dungeons and Dragons?”

The Ghost Writer frowned. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” What could his little illusions have to do with something called Dungeons and Dragons ? He had neither conjured up nor spoken of either of those things.

“Well, i-it’s very similar to what you were just doing,” the nerdy ghost began to explain. “People work together to design characters and tell a story with each other. It’s really collaborative and fun! Here, you should read this,” he insisted. He thrust out the thin book he was holding, and the Ghost Writer could see that it was titled The Dungeon Master’s Guide . 

Little did he know just how significant this moment was, that being given this book would be the butterfly effect to set something much bigger in motion…

Chapter Text

Walker’s guards had caught on to the Ghost Writer’s little gatherings, which had grown larger and more frequent as the prisoners started hearing about the ghost that could provide them a momentary escape from the idleness of prison. They hadn’t liked that at all, no sir. Too much fun was dangerous, and so they had to end it. Now, the Ghost Writer had been in isolation for just over 3 days. Or was it 4? It was getting increasingly harder to keep track. He could feel that with each day, he was getting closer and closer to losing himself. He felt itchy, restless. His core felt painful and tender in his chest. And what’s worse, he was on the verge of starting to dissociate again. He would only just be able to catch himself when his fingers started moving of their own accord, startling himself back to reality when he mumbled something out loud, like waking up from a dream when half-asleep. 

Which was why when none other than Vlad Plasmius himself appeared outside his cell with a shiny new state-of-the-art keyboard, the Ghost Writer was, perhaps, not in the most stable state of mind when they conversed. This is how things went sideways:

“Hello, my dear friend,” Plasmius began, a wide, hungry grin spread out over his sharp incisors. His eyes gleamed startlingly red, as his calculating gaze pierced through the Ghost Writer.

The Ghost Writer jumped slightly, only just noticing the menacing halfa. Now to his credit, he had just shaken himself out of what was the third descent into derealization in as many hours, and he was having a hard time noticing anything at all, to be frank.

He recognized Plasmius right away - what ghost didn’t, with his reputation? - but was surprised to see him here in Walker’s prison, of all places. In the maximum security ward, no less. As a matter of fact…

“How did you get in here?” the Ghost Writer asked, suspicious and a little baffled. Not even the guards were allowed near him under Walker’s strict orders, lest he start trying to use his powers in an escape attempt again.

“Ah, that’s just going to have to be my little secret,” Vlad replied, crossing his arms and winking. His demeanor on the surface was mirthful, but the Ghost Writer got the feeling that it was all for show. He suddenly felt like a cornered rabbit trapped by a hungry wolf.

It wasn’t until Vlad moved his arms that the Ghost Writer noticed the flat, rectangular object floating idly near his elbow. He tried to get a good look at it, but it was angled away from him and slightly hidden by Vlad’s ridiculously large cape. Seriously, who would even want a cape that big? It was obviously for intimidation, and the Ghost Writer couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated. After all, he still didn’t know why Vlad was even here in the first place.

Vlad must have spotted his confused expression as he tried to decipher this mystery, because his eyes narrowed and his smile grew impossibly sharper. “I see you’ve noticed the present I brought for you,” he said. He turned slightly, sweeping his cape behind himself to finally reveal this mystery object.

The Ghost Writer would have been embarrassed about the noise that came out of his mouth, but he abruptly found himself paying very little attention to anything other than the little piece of heaven that Vlad had brought to him.

The keyboard gleamed enticingly in the ever-present green glow emanating from everything in the prison, its keys practically calling out to be pressed. Oh, what magnificent works he would create on this keyboard. If he dared, he would confess that it looked much nicer than his old keyboard. Sturdier, too. The base was metallic, polished to perfection. The Ghost Writer would be willing to bet that it was dense, perfectly balanced. The keys would require just the right amount of force to be activated. And the sounds it would make while he played it so expertly… He had to have it, at all costs.

That last thought snapped him back to clarity, as if he had just dunked his head in a bucket of ice water. Fog started to leave his vision, and he realized that he had moved closer to the bars of his cell and was strangling them with white-knuckled intensity, staring unblinkingly at the keyboard. Vlad was laughing at him; a deep, almost condescending chuckle that had the Ghost Writer scrambling to collect himself once again. 

He was flexing his stiff fingers after letting go of the bars, when he realized just what Plasmius was doing, suddenly feeling a rush of anger. Who was this asshole to dangle a ghost’s Obsession right in front of them just out of arm’s reach? Like pouring out a glass of water at the feet of a man dehydrated in the desert.

“I don’t know what your game is here, Plasmius,” the Ghost Writer spat, forgetting his earlier timidness. “But you had better start talking real soon, or I-”

“Or you’ll what?” Vlad sneered, smile disappearing in a blink. “I think you’re forgetting where you are. And who you’re talking to. If I were you, I’d be careful of whose buttons I push. Now, you’ll listen to me, and listen carefully, if you ever want to get your hands on another typewriter ever again.”

He paused to let the Ghost Writer consider, a sinister grin accentuating his intimidatingly pointed teeth. The more he waited, the worse this compulsion got. The Ghost Writer swallowed nervously, but finally nodded, unable to resist any longer. He had enough self-awareness to know he was being overwhelmed with his Obsession at the moment, but he was helpless to do anything else but to give in.

At his assent, Vlad began explaining his plan and his demand. The Ghost Writer thought it was all a little melodramatic, at best. A little Hamlet -esque at times, but the more Vlad spoke, the more ideas he had. Vlad wanted control of the Ghost Zone (a little cliche, but whatever) and also to utterly ruin and humiliate Jack Fenton in one fell swoop. Vlad’s revenge Obsession was showing straight through whatever excuse he might come up with, but who was the Ghost Writer to judge? He was practically in the same boat. He didn’t particularly like the whole “controlling the Ghost Zone” part, but it sounded like Vlad, in his rush, was practically giving him free reign once he handed over the typewriter.  All of his recent campaigns were at the forefront of his mind. He would give Vlad what he wanted, sure, but that didn’t mean it had to stay that way. He already had most of this new narrative thought out in his head. He was deep in thought, finally deciding on one or two final details, so almost missed when Vlad stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

“Do we have a deal?” he asked in a low voice.

“Way ahead of you, Plasmius,” the Ghost Writer promised. “I’ll make you the most powerful ghost in the Zone before you can even blink.” He was already reaching through the bars to try to reach the typewriter.

Vlad pulled it back just slightly out of reach. “You do understand what will happen to you if you fail?”

To be honest, the Ghost Writer hadn’t been listening to that part, lost in thought as he was. He agreed readily, anyway. Vlad didn’t give him the typewriter right away, gauging his truthfulness. The Ghost Writer was being entirely truthful. He would be willing to bet that Vlad would do something terrible to him if he somehow prevented him from fulfilling his desires. But who said he would be doing the plan-thwarting. 

Finally, finally , Vlad pushed the typewriter into the Ghost Writer’s awaiting hands. The first touch felt like a jolt of electricity, and the Ghost Writer would have described it as slightly erotic. It was better than a cool drink of water after wandering the desert, better than the first hint of sunshine after being in the dark for eternity. The Ghost Writer didn’t know what to do first. He had to write. His fingers twitched. The first letter punched into the keyboard resounded through the typewriter body with a deep metallic thunk. The second sounded even better, and the third even more so. Soon, his fingers were flying across the keyboard. The need to put all of his thoughts onto something physical after bottling them up in his mind was overwhelming. He could feel all of his tightly controlled power building as he typed. Elation filled him as he realized he didn’t have to hold back anymore. With one dramatic and heavy punch to the enter key, he released all his energy at once, feeling it explode outward faster than the blink of Vlad’s very wide eyes. This was going to be so much fun.

Chapter Text

Danny had no time to dodge, as the projectile whipped towards him at incredible speed. He wouldn’t be able to dodge anyways, incapacitated as he was with laughter. The half-eaten chicken tender hit him square in the forehead, only making him laugh even harder. Sam chuckled lightly, as Tucker (aka Danny’s assailant) huffed and crossed his arms indignantly.

They were all seated at their favorite booth at the Nasty Burger, enjoying a well-deserved Saturday lunch after a routine, but exhausting fight with a certain technologically-inclined ghost, fixated on taking over all the traffic lights in Amity Park to have “ultimate control of the city”, or whatever.

“It’s not funny!” Tucker defended. “It was the heat of the moment! We can’t all be expected to come up with quirky one liners like you.”

Danny wiped a tear from his eye, trying to gather himself. “Tucker, it was Technus! And you’re you ! Anything would have been better than ‘Time to get Control, Alt, Deleted’!” He gasped for breath. “Oh my god, someone needs to keep track of these.”

“Oh don’t worry, Danny. I still have ‘Cheesed to meet you’ saved as my email signature. You can’t escape,” Sam deadpanned, holding her phone up as proof, which displayed a recent email to Lancer asking for an extension on their most recent project. Fighting ghosts 24/7 tends to make you miss a few deadlines.

A defeated sigh. “I guess I deserve that. Listen, they can’t all be perfect zingers.”

“See, Danny! You have to cut me some slack. I don’t even have-”

The rest of Tucker’s words faded out as Danny felt an icy chill rush over his entire body. It was like his ghost sense, but turned up to a thousand. His body was wracked with an intense shiver that drew his friends’ attention and stopped Tucker’s rant in its tracks.

“What is it this time?” Sam was already starting to get up, head on a swivel.

“I don’t know, guys, but that was really strong. I think we should-”

They were all suddenly forcefully shoved back into their seats by a huge wave of energy. It came out of nowhere, glowing green ectoplasm so bright they all had to shut their eyes. As the wave hit him, Danny couldn’t help but compare it to how he felt right after his accident, saturated with fresh ectoplasm.

Just as suddenly as the wave arrived, it disappeared, leaving no trace of its immense ectoplasmic energy in its place. Danny, Sam, and Tucker opened their eyes and immediately froze in shock. 

What was before a grimy yet endearing local diner, filled with average locals digging into greasy burgers and soggy fries, was now a dimly lit tavern straight from medieval times. The sticky plastic booths and chairs had been replaced with old, sturdy wood. The cashier’s stand was now an honest-to-god bar, complete with bottles filled with vague liquids and clean beer steins.

The patrons, also, had been transformed. Where people had been eating burgers and fries, they were now digging into whole, roasted chickens with bread and cheese. Teenagers on their phones were now playing some dice game, no electronics in sight. Everyone was now dressed in clothes that looked like they could have been in an ancient painting of peasants in a field.

And the weirdest thing of all, no one seemed to have noticed. They all carried on with whatever they were doing as if nothing had happened.

Danny swapped glances with Sam and Tucker, and found the same look on all three of their faces. One of shock and complete bewilderment.

“Uh-”, said Tucker, eloquently.

“What just happened?” asked Sam, with a little more thought.

“I have no idea. Are you guys ok? Are we all ok?” Danny gave himself a slight once-over to make sure he was all there. His clothes were unchanged, and so, he realized, were Sam and Tucker’s.

He had the instinct to get up and check on his friends himself, but they beat him to it.

“We’re fine,” they both said at the same time, holding up their arms and twisting slightly in a practiced motion so that Danny could inspect them.

“This is so weird,” he whispered. “Definitely a ghost. We’d better go see if we can track down where all that ectoplasm went.” Sam and Tucker nodded in agreement, all three of them shifting into high alert.

As Danny and his friends were still trying to reorient themselves, the thick wooden door of the tavern slammed open, rattling a few glasses on the tables nearby. A few heads turned to glare disapprovingly at the newcomers, but most patrons didn’t even bat an eye at the commotion.

“Uh, guys?” Tucker was the first to say, looking over the shoulders of his two friends with even wider eyes. “We might have a problem.”

Danny and Sam both twisted in their seats to follow Tucker’s gaze. “Oh, great,” Danny muttered in resignation. “As if this couldn’t get any worse.”

Standing in the doorway, posing in a ridiculous suit of gleaming armor, was none other than Dash, with his chest puffed out and hand at the ready on the hilt of a very long sword. His eyes swept the room, clearly looking for a challenge. He was smirking slightly, with the arrogance of someone who isn’t accustomed to losing any fight he picks. Stepping into the tavern just behind him was Kwan, equally fitted with armor and carrying a very heavy looking mace. Unsurprisingly, the third member of this little entourage was Paulina, who didn’t have any armor, but was wearing a flowing cape made of some expensive-looking dark magenta fabric and was carrying a long staff, with some large white crystal at the end.

Because Danny is the luckiest person in the world, Dash’s gaze immediately locked onto him, and his grin turned even more malicious. He started weaving his way through the tavern towards Danny’s table.

“Okay, yeah. Now we definitely have a problem,” urged Tucker. “Can’t we just sneak out the back door or something?” He quickly scanned the tavern for another exit, but only saw the main door currently being blocked by the jocks, and the side door for employees, which was behind the bar and through the kitchen.

Unfortunately, Dash crossed the distance between their two groups before they could even plan their escape, Kwan and Paulina following close behind. Dash slammed his hand on the table, causing several things to fall over and some silverware to clatter to the floor.

“‘Sup, Fentit?” he sneered. “I didn’t expect to see you here, especially after I went through all the trouble of teaching you a lesson yesterday.” 

Danny vividly recalled the incident in question. He’ll never look at french fries the same again.

“Shouldn’t you be with your loser parents, anyways? Nerds like you don’t belong in a place like this. Just looking at your face is making me gag.” Kwan snickered behind him and mimicked the motion.

Sam rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Back off, Dash,” she challenged, then, to Danny and Tucker she said, “God, even like this, he’s a prick.”

“What did you just say to me?” Dash warned, leaning into her space.

Danny could already see where this is going. He shared a silent glance with Tucker and they both simultaneously tried to grab Sam and pull her out of the booth. “C’mon, Sam,” Tucker pleaded. “It’s not worth it.”

Sam shrugged off their hands. “I said,” she continued, ignoring her friends’ warnings and getting somehow even closer to the jock without breaking eye contact, “that you’re a prick.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dash stood back up to his full height. “Seems like you really are stupid if you think you can get away with talking to me like that. Time to teach you nerds another lesson.”

In an instant, he was hauling Sam out of the booth by the front of her shirt, causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Let her go!” Danny yelled, throwing himself out after them.

Dash shoved Sam away at the same instant, knocking her right back into Danny, and they both grunted as they toppled to the floor.

They quickly untangled themselves, but weren’t able to regain their footing before Dash was on them again, this time yanking Danny up with a hand fisted in his shirt and strength that Danny never knew he had. Dash was laughing like this was the highlight of his day, as Danny scrabbled to grasp at his arm to try and loosen his hold.

“There’s nothing you can do against this , wimp!” Dash taunted, gesturing at himself and his heavy-looking armor. Danny couldn’t believe he could still move in that stuff.

“Nice Tin Man cosplay, Dash,” Danny couldn’t resist saying. “The only thing you’re missing is the heart.”

Dash’s cocky smile immediately turned malicious and he let out an honest-to-god growl before violently lifting Danny high above his head and slamming him back down onto the table. Danny gasped sharply as the breath was knocked out of his lungs. He felt a stab of pain in his head as it bounced off the unforgiving wood. His hands were pinned over his head by some other assailant, while he was still stunned by the blow. Danny glanced up and saw Kwan holding him like a vice.

“Hold him good and tight,” Dash instructed, voice low with rage. “I don’t want him going anywhere for this.”

Danny saw rather than heard the sharp metallic hiss of Dash’s sword being pulled from its sheath. This just got way more serious. He struggled with increasing desperation against Kwan’s unrelenting grip. He heard Sam and Tucker both calling out out to him as Dash flicked his sword experimentally before levelling a murderous gaze directly at him.

He craned his neck to see his friends over Dash’s bulky armor. “Stay back!” he warned.

His mind was reeling, trying to figure out a way to get them all out of this without revealing his ghost powers to Dash and his goonies. Sam, ever the brave one, tried to lunge at Dash in an attempt to restrain his sword arm, but was shoved back by some invisible force, nearly falling into Tucker.

To Danny’s side, Paulina smirked snidely, a lingering pink glow pulsing from the crystal on the top of her staff.

Tucker groaned from behind the invisible wall. “Aw man, this is so not fair! Why does she get magic all of the sudden!”

“Not the time, Tuck,” Sam barked. “We have to find a way to get past this stupid thing.” She picked up one of the forks that had fallen to the ground and hurled it at the back of Dash’s head, but it, again, bounced off of the invisible wall, useless.

Meanwhile, Dash had slowly lowered the tip of his sword to Danny’s cheek, just hard enough for Danny to feel a small pinprick of pain. “This’ll teach you to stay out of my way,” he said darkly, before pulling his sword back for a very mean-looking backhanded slash. 

Danny was already pulling at his core to turn intangible when he heard a voice from out of nowhere say, Roll to hit .

Huh?

Before he even had time to process these words, a giant glowing number 1 appeared above Dash’s head, who seemed oblivious to the random disembodied voice telling him to do incomprehensible things. Dash began his swing, and the number above his head glowed brighter and fizzled out. Danny closed his eyes and turned his midsection intangible, bracing for the swing, but it never came. He opened his eyes and saw Dash’s sword sail just inches over his nose, just barely missing him.

The momentum from the swing caused Dash to twirl around almost comically as he swore, stumbling off to the side. The arc of his wild swing caused Paulina to stagger back. “Dash, you idiot!” she shrilled. “You broke my concentration! What the hell was that!”

Dash just looked at his sword with an intense, bewildered look and shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I had him right there.”

With Dash gone, Danny was finally able to get a clear view of Sam and Tucker. Tucker has moved along the invisible wall several feet down, feeling for its end, so far with no luck. Sam, meanwhile, looked like she had thrown everything she could get her hands on into the wall, including herself, if her reddened knuckles were any indication. Danny had enough time to process her body language to see that she was still throwing things before she was hurling a broken-off table leg towards where Dash was just standing, like some messed up boomerang.

The only problem being that Dash was no longer there, and Paulina’s forcefield had gone down, meaning that the table leg was tumbling end-over-end straight towards Kwan, who had been gaping at Dash’s epic whiff, oblivious. Danny watched this all play out in what seemed like slow motion. Kwan finally noticed the makeshift projectile, but it was already too late. Danny had to give credit to Sam’s aim after so much ghost fighting, because the table leg connected perfectly with the middle of Kwan’s forehead with a loud crack.

His grip on Danny’s arms loosened as he cried out and instinctively reached up to hold his aching and now bleeding forehead. Danny didn’t hesitate before springing up off the table and rushing towards where his friends had gathered.

“Nice throw,” he said to Sam, before grabbing both of his friends’ wrists and tugging them towards the door. “Now let’s get out of here before they can regroup.”

“You guys heard that voice, too, right?” Tucker asked frantically, as he stumbled after Danny. “Like, I wasn’t just imagining that?”

“Yeah, Tuck, I heard it. And saw that weird number appear, too. Something’s definitely up.”

They had almost reached the exit, when suddenly a wall of fire sprang up in the doorway, blocking their path. 

“Not another wall!” Tucker whined. “What is up with Paulina and walls right now?”

The trio turned back to see Paulina once again holding her staff in the air, pink light fading from its crystal.

Anger seemed to roll off her in waves, as she yelled, “There’s no way I’m letting you freaks get away that easily! You totally humiliated me, and almost made Dash cut me in half! Get them!” She addressed this last part at Dash and Kwan, who had regained themselves and were stalking towards them with their respective weapons at the ready. 

Danny and Tucker both took a step back, but Sam was still studying the fire. Something seemed strange about it. It didn’t seem to be burning the wood underneath of it, and it wasn’t producing any smoke. The fire seemed unnaturally contained. Experimentally, she quickly waved her hand through it, and didn't feel any heat.

“Guys!” she yelled. “This fire is fake! It’s just an illusion, come on!” 

Sam grabbed the back of both of her friends’ shirts and lunged them through the inferno, straight through the doors and out onto the street, kicking up a surprisingly large cloud of dust. And not a moment too soon, because as soon as the three of them were out of the tavern, green glowing bars solidified in the windows and doors, casting a strange light out onto the street and blocking all sound from escaping the tavern. Kwan was the first to make it to the illusory fire, and he swung his spiked mace heavily at the bars. As soon as it collided, it emitted a loud clang and lots of sparks, but the bars seemed no worse for wear.

Danny saw Dash hack at the bars next, with the same results. He spotted a hunched figure through the green glow wobbling menacingly towards the two frustrated jocks. As it got closer, Danny recognized the figure as the Nasty Burger’s crazy senior manager, now dressed in a frilly shirt and leather apron, instead of the standard Nasty Burger polo and hat. He watched, vindicated, as the manager slapped the backs of both of their heads, causing Dash and Kwan to pitch forward slightly before turning back to the crotchety old man in disbelief. The manager started into what looks like a nasty rant - with finger-pointing and hand-waving included - that caused Danny and Tucker to both start giggling.

“Serves those jerks right,” Sam muttered, standing up from the dusty ground and wiping her skirt.

With the immediate threat out of the way, the trio was finally able to properly assess their situation, and Danny would argue that it is as concerning as it is puzzling. Not only was the interior of the Nasty Burger transformed, but the exterior, as well, and Danny would be willing to bet that it extended to the entirety of Amity Park, with how powerful that wave of ectoplasm was. Every building around them seemed to be now made of either wood or simple stone, and the sidewalks and asphalt had been replaced with dry, dusty earth. There were no cars, but Danny spotted a few genuine horse-drawn carriages and wagons. Everyone outside was dressed the same as those inside the Nasty Burger - all whites, browns, and beiges in the most uncomfortable looking fabrics imaginable.

“This is seriously wrong,” Danny observed, mostly to himself.

“No kidding,” Sam agreed. “Any ideas?”

“That was a lot of energy. I don’t know of any ghost powerful enough to release that much power all at once.” Danny paused, heart sinking slightly as he thought. “Except maybe Pariah Dark, but he’s, like, technically dead.”

Tucker, meanwhile, was patting himself down frantically. “Where’s my PDA? It was just in my pocket! What gives? Some mystery ghost has the power to send us all back in time to the Middle Ages, and leaves us our normal clothes, but no electronics? Totally unfair.”

Danny looked around again, scrutinizing the town around them. “I mean, this looks like the past, but things are way too similar to regular Amity Park for it to be that simple, right? Like, we almost just got assaulted by the literal Dash.”

Said antagonist was still being berated behind those green bars in the Nasty Burger manager, who was now waving around a thick broom and mop, presumably forcing the group to clean up the mess they made.

“Did that blast feel like it came from any particular direction?” Sam asked.

“It was kind of hard to tell. It all happened so fast, but I think I felt it the strongest coming from that direction.” Danny pointed in the general direction of the source of the wave, only to realize his finger was lined up exactly with the still-visible FentonWorks sign on top of his house, and he came to a scary realization. “Oh, god. The portal.” And then, “Oh, shit! My parents! Jazz! I gotta get over there!”

Without waiting, Danny took off down the street, searching for the first available alley to transform, Sam and Tucker trying to follow as close as they could. Spotting a gap between two nondescript buildings, Danny quickly pivoted and made a beeline for it. Sam and Tucker caught up with him just as the alley was filled with a blinding white light, and the raven-haired teen was replaced with his ghostly alter ego.

Danny began floating off the ground, ready to take off at his fastest speed, before remembering that not everyone was gifted with his particular skill set. Or cursed, depending on who you asked. He looked down at his friends, warring guiltily in his head between the need to check on his family and the need to make sure Sam and Tucker stayed safe.

Finally he shrugged nonchalantly. “Well. Flying slow is faster than running fast.”

A simple “what” was all Tucker had time to say before Danny grabbed them both by the waist and took off. He flew much lower than he normally did, closer to street level, where some people turned and watched them fly, but most continued on like this happened every day. Which - come on - it usually did.

Both of his friends were clutching at him for dear life, but, like, it’s not like he was going to drop them or anything. He was strong enough to carry them both, and he never dropped people that he carried. Never.

Now carrying two people this far, however, was getting a little exhausting, and they had to land early anyways to stay out of the range of the ghost proximity alarms. Danny remembered Tucker bemoaning the fact that his PDA was missing, and wondered if all technology was gone. What did that mean for the ghost portal?

They only landed about a block away from the house, and from here, the FentonWorks sign was definitely lower tech than what they were used to seeing. It was mainly made of wood, stained different colors to reflect different parts of the sign, but it was also glowing slightly, like those burgers his dad had left in the wrong fridge overnight that got contaminated with ectoplasm. He’d be willing to bet the sign was infused with ectoplasm somehow. The rest of the house was exactly like he expected. It was mostly made of rough stone with wooden supports.

“What do you guys think that is?” Tucker asked, pointing out the round, almost canvas looking structure on top of the building, in the space usually reserved for the Ops Center. “Like a giant balloon or something?”

“Only one way to find out,” Danny replied.

He quickly transformed back into his human form, and jogged up to the front door, heart hammering in his chest, Sam and Tucker close behind. He didn’t know what to expect. If he and his friends were somehow unaffected by this weird transformation, could it be possible that his parents and Jazz were spared as well? Just as he was about to open the door, it swung open on its own, revealing the imposing and square figure of Jack Fenton, and behind him, his shorter, slimmer wife, Maddie.

“Danny!” Jack exclaimed. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon!”

“We thought you were spending the night at Tucker’s house,” his Mom chimed in.

That was actually true; they were planning on binging all the Terminatra movies that night so they could go see the first showing of the new one as soon as it premiered. But if they had somehow been transported back to the dark ages, how would they know that? Maybe it wasn’t time travel at all. Maybe it was some weird reality warping stuff…

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton.” Tucker butted in, saving him after he was silent in thought for a little too long. “Danny just forgot his… uh…”

“Toothbrush!” Danny interjected. “Sorry, we just came back to pick it up.” He rubbed the back of his neck in feigned shame.

“Oh, well alright! You kids have fun! We’re going out for the day to test this new ghost hunting equipment. I call it: the Fenton Howler!” Jack held up what looked like a normal bow with a quiver of arrows. Only the glowing green stabilizing feathers on the arrow shafts hinted that they were anything but.

“Your father and I have been absolutely stumped about how that Phantom has been using that new wailing power of his to subdue the other ghosts he fights,” Maddie explained. “Is he saying words? Like some type of threat? Or is it the sound itself? It’s volume, its frequency? The pure energy that Phantom emits with this new power is concerning, and try as we might we just haven’t been able to capture him for study.”

“So we did the next best thing,” Jack finished, looking proud, which usually meant they found some new way to torture a ghost right under Danny’s nose. He hadn’t known his parents had taken an interest in his Wail. He felt himself pale slightly.

“Alright, Dad,” Danny tried to stop his parents’ rant, to no avail.

“We managed to capture a small specimen, and were able to extract similar energy from it. We suspect that the ghosts are using some form of frequency manipulation that disrupts the natural frequencies of other ghosts’ ectoplasm molecules, causing them to weaken and freeze.” Maddie explained.

You mean you tortured the poor thing , Danny thought, feeling queezier.

“With what we learned from that experiment, we were able to infuse these arrows with that same ecto-energy signature, and voila!” Jack finished with a flourish (and a mispronunciation of that last word). “The Fenton Howler was born! The ectoplasm on these special arrows will vibrate the air around them as they fly, just like Phantom does, causing them to produce a similar sound - and hopefully the same effect. Now we just have to test them to see what these bad babies can do!”

Danny desperately wanted to tell his parents to stop. He didn’t want to hear any more about how they were trying to turn his powers against him and twist them into something malicious. He couldn’t manage another protest, before Sam stepped in for him.

“Good luck with that Mr. Fenton, we’ll just be grabbing Danny’s toothbrush, now,” she said, dismissively, shoving Danny from behind to get him to move into the house.

“That’s right, dear. I’m sure they’re eager to get back to their little sleepover.” Maddie put her hand on Jack’s shoulder and guided him out the door. “Don’t stay up too late, Danny!” she called. “We’ll be out all day, but Jazz is upstairs if you need anything else at the house!” And with that, his parents were gone, walking instead of driving in that road hazard of a GAV.

“You ok, Danny?” Tucker asked tentatively from his side.

Danny took a deep breath. “I guess it’s good to know my parents are still my parents.”

“Yeah, but that’s just taking it too far. You shouldn’t have to listen to them talk like that.” Sam kicked at the ground angrily.

“Have you thought about telling them the truth?” Tucker offered. “If they knew, I’m sure they would have to rethink some of the things they do.”

“But that’s the point,” Danny countered. “‘If they knew’ - why do they need to be confronted with the consequences of their actions to realize they’re wrong? What happened to compassion and understanding?” Danny didn’t let his friends answer that, “Whatever. I still have to make sure Jazz is ok, then we need to go to the Ghost Zone to find the source of that energy blast.”

He turned and started stalking upstairs, his body taut with stress. Sam and Tucker shared a worried glance behind him, but didn’t push the subject further. 

The house had more-or-less the same layout as it had before, so it made it easier for Danny to navigate. Pushing the negativity of his conversation with his parents aside for now, he checked Jazz’s room first, and then his, both of which were empty. His parents must have meant upstairs upstairs. The staircase to the Ops Center dropped down from the ceiling like the entrance to an attic - which of course is what used to be up here. Luckily in this weird setting, it still existed, and Danny found it already pulled down. There was very little light coming from the hole in the ceiling, with the occasional bright flash of purple or blue.

This made Danny frown. What could Jazz be doing up there? He quickly climbed the ladder into the Ops Center, only to have to duck out of the way of a stray blash of light.

“Oh, Danny! Sorry, I didn’t see you come up,” Jazz exclaimed. He saw that his sister had a long thick robe thrown over whatever clothes she was wearing, and she held a long thin stick in her hand, half-raised like she was in the middle of making some gesture with it. She was standing in the middle of the dome-like room, in front of a long wooden bench, littered with what looked like the remnants of a failed science experiment and some thick books that looked incredibly old.

“Uh, hi, Jazz,” he replied. “What was that just now?” Danny turned and saw a blackened star of ash where the light had hit the wall behind him.

“I’m just trying to practice this spell, but I don’t think I have the gesture right. Here, watch.”

Jazz raised both of her arms and then swirled them in front of her in opposite spirals, and at the same time yelled a quick word that Danny didn’t recognize. To Danny’s astonishment, right in front of Jazz at chest height, a small disk of light began to appear, in a watery pattern of blues and purples. The disk was spinning, faster and faster, and Danny saw it getting bigger before it practically exploded, shooting light off into all directions. He had to duck again to avoid being hit by one of the stray blasts.

“Well I guess that answers that question,” he muttered. Jazz seemed to be under the same effect of the strange energy as their parents and everyone else, if she was doing all this weird magic stuff.

“What was that?” Jazz asked, brushing stray flecks of light that had fallen onto her robe.

“Nothing! Are you ok?” he easily pivoted, but not subtle enough for his sister, who rolled her eyes at his obvious deflection.

“I’m ok, little brother. Nothing I can’t handle.” She repeated the same gesture that Sam and Tucker had used back at the Nasty Burger, showing him her arms and then turning slightly so he could see her sides and back.

Danny felt himself settle slightly, only just now realizing anxiety that had been building in him. He released some of the tension in his shoulders, no longer vibrating with the need to check-in on everyone. His core settled for now, but he still felt restless, knowing that the whole of Amity Park still needed his help getting out of this mess, as usual. And with that thought-

“Um, can I ask you a question?” he asked, hesitantly. “Does the Ghost Portal, y’know, work?” He hadn’t thought about it until now, but with the town the way it was right now, there was no guarantee the Portal would be operational. He wouldn’t describe this setting as exactly high-tech.

Jazz frowned slightly. “Uh, I think it’s on right now. Mom and Dad were using it to fish those poor blob ghosts out of the Ghost Zone earlier.” Her face fell with guilt. “I’m sorry, Danny. I was out studying and couldn’t stop them until the damage was already done. I just hope they didn’t suffer for long.”

A heavy silence passed between the two siblings. Danny felt the grief well up in him, and fought to push it down. He couldn’t afford to mourn now. He had to fix whatever mess this was.

“Thanks for letting me know, Jazz. I’ll fix this,” he said grimly, turning to head back downstairs and to the lab.

“If you’re going to the lab, don’t touch whatever Mom and Dad have on the table next to the storage locker.” Jazz warned. “It’s really poky and looks like it could explode if you even breathe on it,” Jazz called out.

“Great,” Danny scowled, lacking his usual exasperation, too upset right now to be more lighthearted.

“And be careful!” Jazz added as Danny gripped the ladder and started to descend. “You call me the minute things go south.”

“If things go south, I promise I’ll call you,” he promised. They said their goodbyes as Danny’s view of the Ops Center disappeared, the last thing he saw being his sister turning back towards the thickest book known to mankind and furrowing her brow in concentration.

As he reached the bottom, where Sam and Tucker were waiting expectantly, he heard a twinkling noise, Jazz’s weird word, and then another boom, followed by a frustrated growl from his sister.

“What is that? Magic or something? Like with Paulina at the Nasty Burger?” Tucker asked. “Is she ok, or did she get sucked into this weird fantasy stuff?”

Danny shook his head, pinching his lips together. “She doesn’t know what’s happening. It’s all up to us, now.”

“Well let’s get down to the basement and get this over with then,” said Sam, tugging at both of their arms and leading them downstairs.

The basement felt more-or-less the same, cluttered and disorganized, but full of innovative inventions and research materials. Danny found this oddly comforting, knowing that no matter what weirdness was happening, he could always count on his parents to be the eccentric scientists he was familiar with. Gadgets around the room were obviously less technological, opting for more natural materials and weird runes or gems decorating all of them, which Danny assumed did something magical. The biggest draw of the room, however, was the massive Ghost Portal on the opposite wall from the stairs.

The Portal was easily the most eye-catching thing in the room on a normal day, but now Danny could feel it almost physically pulling him closer. The energy that leaked from the portal seemed less controlled, more wild. The portal itself also lacked its distinctive industrial gateway recessed slightly into the concrete walls of the basement. While the walls were still made of stone, the Portal was now flush against the edge, as if it was a part of the wall itself. Carved into the stone around the Portal was a spider web of intricate lines and symbols that could have been words. Some of the carvings looked more fresh than others, like they had all been done at different times. Danny assumed this was the weird fantasy world equivalent to all the trial and error his parents had gone through to get the real portal working. On the wall to the right of the portal, the freshest looking lines came together into a swirling pattern, with a slim piece of paper stuck to the center. It also had symbols similar to the ones around the portal drawn on it in thick red ink (at least Danny hoped it was ink). Despite all of these changes, the portal was still the portal, swirling green ectoplasm spilling ghostly light everywhere into the lab. Danny found its familiarity oddly comforting.

He approached the piece of paper, cautiously, unsure of its stability, since the mechanisms keeping it open seemed more volatile.

“What do you think this paper is for?” Tucker asked, studying it closely without touching it. They had all learned the hard way not to mess with anything unknown in the lab. 

Danny traced the swirling pattern with his eyes as it branched off into the rest of the design around the portal. “Maybe, it’s the on switch?” he suggested.

“I’d rather not find out,” Sam said. “I think we remember what happened the last time.”

“Touché,” Danny agreed. “Ok, Iguess we’d better do this then. That blast of energy came from here, most likely from inside the Ghost Zone. I’ll go scope it out. You two stay out here - we don’t know what it’s like in there right now, and I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He took a step forward, intending on jumping straight into the portal, but he was stopped when Sam grabbed his wrist, refusing to let go.

“No way, Danny,” she argued. “We’re not letting you go in there alone. You don’t know what’s on the other side either, and we’re better off as a group.”

“No, I won’t let you do that,” he pushed back.

“Quit being so stubborn! We worry about you, too, you know. We do this together, or we don’t do it at all.”

“What if we go with the Specter Speeder?” interrupted Tucker, with optimism. He quickly scanned the room, but found no trace of the inter-dimensional vehicle. “Or not,” his shoulders slouched. “What gives? Why is only some of your parents’ ghost technology here?”

“That settles it, then,” said Sam, quickly backing away from Danny and towards the portal. “You can’t stop me if I’m already there.” And she plunged backwards into the swirling green vortex.

“Sam!” Danny cried, a hand outstretched, futilely reaching for his friend who was already gone. “No!” He felt his core spike painfully, and he didn’t hesitate before jumping in after her.

Tucker, now alone in the empty lab, stood with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Uh, in for a penny, in for a pound?” He said to himself, before following his friends into the Ghost Zone.

On the other side, Danny was witnessing something he had never seen before in all his trips here. A wild and strong wind whipped around him from everywhere, coming from every direction and blowing towards one huge cyclone. Small bits of junk and debris from all over the Ghost Zone were being pulled into the vortex. He had to fight to keep himself from being sucked up, too. Through the chaos, he could just make out a slender figure, facing them and hunched over something. Something in the light shifted, and a blinding flash glinted off the figure’s glasses.

“Who are you!” Danny shouted over the wind.

At his voice, the figure let out a crazed laugh that echoed outwards, impossibly loud. “Oh dear, you aren’t supposed to be here,” the figure giggled, and Danny could swear he’d heard that voice somewhere before. “You know who I am, Phantom.”

A break in the debris allowed Danny to finally see the figure clearly. The Ghost Writer threw his head back and laughed again, typing something on the typewriter in front of him without even looking at it.

“Ghost Writer,” Danny growled. “I don’t know what you did, but you’d better fix it, or you’re in for a world of hurt. Return Amity Park back to normal, and maybe I’ll go easy on you when I beat you into next week.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” the Ghost Writer teased. “That’s not how this works! It’ll break the game!”

“What game?”

The Ghost Writer scoffed. “Dungeons and Dragons, silly! You’re in the middle of this wonderful game, and tonight I’m your ghostly Dungeon Master!” He cackled again, apparently amused with himself.

Danny, for his part, had no idea what he was talking about. Behind him, gasped in recognition.

The Ghost Writer pressed on. “Much like our little tussle on Christmas, young halfa, the story is already in motion! You have to be the ones to finish it! And, oh, what a story it will be!”

“What is he talking about?” Sam yelled next to him.

“I have no idea!” Danny responded.

“I might,” Tucker sounded slightly nervous.

“The only way out of this now is to defeat your one true enemy - Vlad Plasmius!” The Ghost Writer announced dramatically. The debris swirling around him seemed to coalesce into a shape that Danny knew well, the silhouette of that pointy-haired bastard, looming enormously behind the Ghost Writer like a demented shadow. “His plan is to take over the Ghost Zone and harvest its power to become the strongest ghost in existence. And he’ll do anything to get his way! You, young adventurers, are the only ones that can stop him! Collect all the keys and break into Vlad’s secret lab to stop him from turning his portal into the most efficient and powerful phylactery known to man!”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Danny argued.

“I might,” Tucker repeated, more quietly, and even more frightened than before.

“You now have your quest!” The Ghost Writer boomed. “Now go and adventure! Here! I’ll even start you at your first destination! Seek out the Captain!” As he spoke, his voice grew impossibly louder, and his continuous typing on the keyboard grew faster and more frantic. The debris around him followed his energy, and swirled at an impossible high speed. The whoosh of wind became a deafening roar, but oddly, Danny found himself being pushed away from the tornado, rather than being pulled towards it. This time, he didn’t have the strength to resist, and suddenly he and his friends were flung back through the portal, with the insane cackling of the Ghost Writer being the last thing he heard before being absorbed by a blinding flash of light.

Chapter Text

It was a shock again to be suddenly hit with the Ghost Writer’s strange energy. One minute, they were in the middle of the Ghost Zone, the next, they were standing, disoriented on the shore of a long dock overlooking a massive ocean. Nowhere in Amity Park had a body of water this big, but they were definitely still in town. Danny looked over his shoulder and saw the very top of FentonWorks peeking out over the other buildings that were clearly in the middle of downtown.

The second thing he noticed, besides the weird ocean that came out of nowhere, is that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he had been wearing before. Gone were his usual baggy T-shirt and jeans, replaced with a lightweight yet sturdy full suit of armor. It was a bright silver-white, and had Phantom’s logo displayed across the chest in a darker color. Trying to see more of whatever outfit the Ghost Writer had put him in, he twisted around slightly, only to notice that strapped to his back was a huge shield slightly impeding his movement. At his hip also hung a sheathed sword, about the length of his arm.

“Literally what is happening right now,” Danny said in disbelief. He unsheathed the sword, and noticed that it had a faint green glow, not unlike some ghosts or objects around the house that had absorbed too much ectoplasm.

He looked up to his friends similarly examining themselves. Sam and Tucker, likewise, had been given new attire. Tucker was sporting a hardy leather breastplate with lots of hooks and loops, on which hung various trinkets and small tools, and even a glass vial or two. He was also wearing a large leather bag slung across his chest. The bag was similarly covered in smaller practical pockets, and Tucker was currently rummaging around inside it, causing whatever was inside to clink around.

Sam was dressed in a simple but elegant looking robe that was cut asymmetrically to be shorter in the front. Over the robe, like armor, but not as full-coverage as Danny’s or Tucker’s seemed to be, attached two leather pauldrons, and matching bracers were snug around her forearms. A thick belt was tied around her waist, to which several small bags and random drying herbs were strung.

“Are we, like, fantasy characters or something?” Danny asked, sheathing his sword once more. If the only way to get out of this was to play by the Ghost Writer’s rules, Danny would like to know what those rules actually were.

“Yeah, what did the Ghost Writer say again? Dungeons and what?” Sam tried to remember. She was lifting up the material of her dress, which looked like some sort of silk in a deep forest green color.

“Dungeons and Dragons, guys. C’mon,” Tucker confirmed slowly, taking his attention away from his bag back towards his friends. “And if that’s true, and we have to go ‘complete the quest’ or whatever…” His eyes widened slightly with a realization. “That means we’re the adventurers! We’re the party!”

“What does that mean?” Danny asked, confused. “That’s that game that Mikey and whatever-his-name-is play after school sometimes, right? I don’t know anything about it.”

“The adventurers are the main characters, obviously, and they all have a class - let me finish! A class describes what they’re good at, like fighting or magic or something, and they usually have to go on a quest to defeat some bad guy or find treasure, or something.” Tucker lights up with excitement. “Like, for instance, with your armor and shield and sword, and just… everything about you, I’d say the Ghost Writer probably turned you into a paladin.”

“I’m a what?” Danny hardly followed what Tucker was saying, but he did recall Mikey trying to explain to him what a class was when he accidentally walked in on them in the middle of a game.

“I said you’re most likely a paladin, Danny.” Tucker repeated.

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Well, from what I remember, paladins are like fighters who swear an oath that they have to uphold.” Tucker frowned in thought.

“... Ok… Well, what kind of oath do I have? I don’t remember swearing to anything.” Maybe all that Ghost King stuff, but he told himself he would just ignore that until he finished Junior year. Those eyeball guys could wait a little bit longer.

Tucker shrugged. “Probably an oath of protection. You do do a lot of protecting already. It’s a bit of an obvious choice-”

Hey! the Ghost Writer’s disembodied voice echoed suddenly.

“-but it fits.”

“Do you mean like my Obsession? I didn’t choose that,” Danny defended.

“No, but I think the Ghost Writer is just adding a bit of flavor to what he already knows. And an unbreakable oath that guides your morals and actions sounds exactly like an Obsession to me.”

“So if he’s picking our types,” Sam chimed in, ignoring Tucker’s interjection that they’re classes, actually , “what does that make the two of us, then?”

Tucker hummed in thought. He got close to Sam and examined her belt and robe more closely. Finally, he said, “If I had to guess, Sam, you look like a druid.”

Danny and Sam shared an uncomprehending look that caused Tucker to sigh in exasperation.

“They control plants and nature and stuff,” he explained. “Like hippies. I think we all remember that time with Undergrowth. Word must have gotten around in the Ghost Zone and now that’s how he thinks of you.”

There was a pause while Sam let that sink in. “That makes sense, I guess. So I have plant powers, huh? That's actually pretty cool, as long as some plant ghost doesn’t try to mind control me and destroy humanity again.”

“Any powers linked with nature in general, really. Do you feel the urge to turn into a small animal, perhaps?”

“Um, not really,” Sam said skeptically.

“What are you then, Tucker?” Danny asked, while Sam was distracted trying to interpret Tucker’s question.

“Given everything that’s in this bag,” he replied, opening it up again for another look. “Probably an artificer.” He rolled his eyes at Danny’s blank stare. “They’re like tinkerers,” he explained. “The Ghost Writer must have heard from Technus about how I defeated him multiple times with my technical prowess.” He puffed out his chest in bravado.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, it was totally all you,” she teased sarcastically.

“I’m not saying you guys didn’t do anything to help, but if I wasn’t there, who would have been able to hack into his motherboard - in the middle of combat , might I add - to give you the opening you needed to finish him off? Hmm? What was that? Yeah, no one, that’s what I thought.”

Sam felt the urge to strangle one of her closest friends, but Danny stepped between them. “Can we do this another time? Because apparently we have a quest to finish.” Both of his friends mumbled their assent. 

As one, they all turned their attention back to the literal ocean in front of them. Based on their location relative to FentonWorks, Danny guessed that they were standing at what used to be the small pond in the park just a few blocks from his house. The pond now looked to be transformed into a massive, seemingly endless sea, with a wide dock jutting about one hundred feet out into its depths.

“How is this even possible?” Danny wondered out loud.

Abruptly, the Ghost Writer’s voice echoed from everywhere at once. What? He’s a stickler for traditionalism! He wanted an ocean and we’re in the middle of effing Illinois - what did you want me to do? I can’t just make an entire ocean out of nothing.

Danny jumped slightly, still unused to the Ghost Writer’s weird presence.

“I guess that makes sense,” Danny  conceded. “I assume this ‘he’ we’re talking about is the mysterious captain?” He got no answer from the Ghost Writer on this question. 

“I think we’ll just have to go see for ourselves,” Tucker said with a shrug. He squinted down at the edge of the dock, trying to take in this new landscape. “Hey, Danny, can you tell what that is?” He pointed towards the very end of the dock, where a tall sheltered structure stood at the very edge.

“Only one way to find out. Let’s go.” Danny took the lead, Sam and Tucker trailing behind him. Walking in this new set of armor felt strange and unnatural, the pieces clinking together as he went. The shield was an ever-present weight against his back, and the sword tugged heavily at his hip.

They quickly reached the end of the dock, where they found themselves standing under a tall roof open to the sea. In the center of this structure, hung a massive bell, supported by thick wooden posts. In front of the bell, a shiny golden plaque was set into a small stone table. Danny read the plaque several times, confused by its words:

Ring the bell!

Your time is Nigh,

Stay Brave and True

To Sea’s Reply!

“What is this supposed to mean? I’m kind of failing Lancer’s poetry section, right now,” Danny joked.

“I mean, it clearly says it right there,” said Tucker, pointing at the first line of the plaque. “‘Ring the bell.’ I don’t think it could be more obvious.” 

“Tucker, no!” Sam exclaimed.

“Wait!” Danny tried reaching out to physically stop his friend, but the damage was already done. The bell’s gong was deep and reverberating, waves of sound vibrating Danny’s teeth and even the waves of the sea around them.

The ripples continued, even after the sound of the bell had dissipated, seeming to get bigger and bigger. Danny stumbled, as a particularly large wave managed to crest the dock and slam heavily at their feet.

“Look!” Sam pointed out across the waves. “Something’s coming!” 

And indeed something was coming. Something very big and very fast. Its size and speed distorted the water into a tsunami-like wave, rushing at them menacingly, though Danny still couldn’t see what was under all that water.

Fearing the worst, he pulled at his core and transformed into Phantom, taking a readying stance. Absently, he noticed that his new armor transformed with him, with inverted colors similar to his normal hazmat suit. He unsheathed his sword and grabbed the shield off his back. The Ghost Writer had said that they needed this equipment to finish the story, and Danny didn’t want to risk messing this up by not using any of it.

Just as he got the shield properly around his left wrist, the giant wave reached the dock, and no matter how prepared Danny was, there was just nothing like getting hit with hundreds of pounds of water all at once. He heard his friends cry out before they were all plunged violently into the icy cold sea. Danny tumbled in the current, desperately holding on to his gear. He was disoriented from the fall, and couldn’t tell which way was up. Opening his eyes proved useless, as well. The water was dark and murky, and he couldn’t see anything.

Danny began swimming awkwardly in a random direction, hoping that it was up, when he saw something large charge at him from the depths. In the water, seining a sword was slow, and he barely got through half of a messy swing before the large mass materialized as a giant red tentacle with the tell-tale green ghostly aura at its edges and snatched him around the waist. It squeezed his arms painfully to his sides and knocked the remaining breath out of his lungs. 

Suddenly, all he could see or hear was rushing water as the tentacle yanked him somewhere. ‘Somewhere’ abruptly came to be about fifty feet above the surface, as the tentacle, with Danny in tow, breached the surface in a huge splash of water. Danny sputtered, water dripping from his hair into his eyes and mouth. Having reached its destination, the tentacle had stopped its motion, allowing Danny to get his bearings. His eyes followed the length of the crimson appendage, thick as a tree trunk and as wiggly as a worm, until it ended just above the water and connected to the even larger body of an angry squid. Its eye must have been as big as Danny himself, and it was currently fixed on him in anger. 

Danny tried wiggling as much as he could to try to escape, but that only caused the tentacle to close even tighter around his ripb, eliciting an involuntary whine as air was forced out of his lungs. Breathing was painful, so he suspected something was either bruised or broken. He tried turning intangible, but found that he couldn’t phase through the squid’s ghostly tentacle. His hands still gripped his sword and shield weakly, but they were of no use if he couldn’t get his arms free. He was about to give up on the sword altogether in favor of a tried-and-true blast of ectoplasm, but he was stopped by an explosion on the giant squid's tentacle right in front of him. The squid let out a piercing shriek, and loosened its hold long enough for Danny to pry himself free. He slashed at the tentacle once as it seemed to regain its bearings, causing the squid to shriek again and retreat its tentacle. He floated above the thrashing squid, looking for the source of the initial explosion.

He soon spotted Tucker, dangling upside down, both legs gripped tightly by another of the squid’s tentacles. Some of the trinkets that he had been wearing on his chest and belt had evidently fallen off when he was upended, but he still clutched desperately at his still-full bag. One hand held something dark and round - presumably what had been thrown at the squid earlier.

“Tucker!” Danny yelled, and started to take off towards his friend. He dodged several attempts to be grappled again by another massive tentacle. He parried and defended easily with his sword and shield, surprised at how natural they felt in his grip. He finally reached Tucker, who had thrown several smoke grenades at the tentacles to help Danny. “I’ll get you out of this,” Danny promised, already sheathing his items. 

“Hurry, Danny! We have to go help Sam, too!” Tucker pointed to the other side of the squid, and Danny could make out Sam throwing useless punches at the tentacle that held her captive. She was also yelling something, but with the noise of the water and the squid’s shrieking, he could make out her words.

“Ok, hold on!.” Danny said. He placed both hands on the tentacle, and pulled at his core for energy. He released a powerful set of twin ectoblasts from his hands, at point-blank range. The squid shrieked again, fully releasing Tucker from his grasp. Tucker began to scream as he fell, but Danny was right there next to him, and pulled his friend against his body so that he could fly them out of harm’s way. 

Tucker gasped. “Look out!” But the warning came too late, as Danny felt something slam into his back with tremendous force.

In freeing Tucker, he had forgotten about the other tentacles that were attempting to grapple him. Tucker clutched him tightly, screaming the whole way as they tumbled in midair before Danny could get his bearings again. As soon as they were stable again, another tentacle slammed into them from the side.

“There’s too many of them!” Danny gasped, just barely dodging a third tentacle from the other side. “They’re too fast!” The added weight of Tucker as well as his stupid armor was making him slower than he was used to, and so the fourth tentacle that came after them was finally able to grapple them both from behind. Danny and Tucker were squished together by the strength of the monstrous appendage, their cheeks pressing awkwardly together. Danny could feel Tucker’s shallow breaths against his chest as they both struggled for air. The both squirmed trying to get free, but that only seemed to tighten the monster’s grip.

“Has anyone ever told you that you smell like ozone before?” Tucker joked, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

“Very funny,” Danny replied. “We’ll get out of this. I’ll think of something.” At least he hoped he would. He was about to try to twist his hand to be able to blast the tentacle again when he finally saw where they had gone. His frantic flying and dodging had brought them much closer to Sam, who they could now hear yelling at the squid as she tried to pry its tentacle away from her in vain. Danny almost forgot about how dire their situation was as soon as he noticed the different numbers appearing above Sam’s head as she yelled. They glowed faintly, and seemed to appear just before she started another string of insults. Their values were seemingly random, but were all at least below 10. 

“What is that?” Danny questioned, slightly panicked. His words were slightly mushed from his cheek being pressed into the side of Tucker’s face. He tried again to pry the tentacle away from them, but it still didn’t budge.

“I saw those pop up above your head a few times while we were flying around, only they were much higher. I feel like I’ve seen this before,” Tucker mumbled, equally perplexed.

Danny suddenly recalled the moment at the Nasty Burger earlier, where the odds suddenly turned in their favor. A similar glowing number “1”  had appeared over Dash’s head before he whiffed his sword swing epically. Could this be something similar? He quickly recapped the incident to Tucker, who suddenly gasped in realization. 

“That’s it!” he yelled triumphantly. “They’re dice rolls! Like in the real game! The higher the roll, the better you do, and a 1 means critical failure, which explains why Dash messed up so bad!” Danny had no time to process what his friend was saying before Tucker was suddenly crying out to Sam to try to get her attention. 

Sam stopped her barrage and finally glanced over to where her friends were being uncomfortably embraced. “Danny! Tucker! Help! She keeps yelling things and she’s not listening to me!” The squid, as if on cue, let out a piercing shriek, violently shaking the three humans back and forth like an upset child with a toy doll. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Tucker moans as soon as the tentacles stabilize again.

Danny however, had picked up on Sam’s weird phrasing. “What do you mean ‘yelling things’? It’s just a squid.” He had to yell over the noise of giant angry squid and crashing waves as it thrashed around. He had dealt with many strange ghosts and talking animals since becoming Phantom, but this squid was definitely not saying words.

“You mean you don’t hear it?” Sam yells back over another loud shriek. “She just said ‘get out’, clear as day! I don’t think she wants us in the ocean, but we can’t go anywhere if she’s just going to keep us in a death grip like this.” She grunts, once again trying to pry herself free. She hurled her last words pointedly at squid, a glowing number 5 appearing above her head as she said it.

“There are literally no human words coming out of that squid’s mouth right now!” Tucker agreed with Danny.

Another unholy shriek. This time the squid slapped Danny and Tucker down angrily into the water before hoisting them back out, soaked to the bone, sputtering and gasping for breath. Sam’s face was a weird mix of panic for their wellbeing and confusion over whatever words she had heard from the squid.

“She said the term kraken is more accurate. Squid is a little derogatory,” she parroted, confused by her own words, realizing that maybe this beast had some intelligence. Her mind began running a mile a minute, an idea forming in her head. The squ- the kraken let out another roar, this one sounding more high-pitched and somehow happier. 

“Well, can you tell Mrs. Kraken to please let us go before we suffocate!” Tucker yelled.

Sam again translated for the kraken, after another loud and unholy scream. “She says she can’t trust us to behave once she lets us go. You were throwing bombs at her.”

“What! How is that fair!” Tucker yelled indignantly. “She attacked me first! And why are you on her side now!”

The kraken in response raised one of her other many tentacles out of the water. Wrapped tightly in her grip was the giant bell that Tucker had wrung. One giant eye looked to the bell and back at Tucker as if to say I know you know what this is, and what you did with it , except Tucker actually didn’t know, and voices his confusion out loud, which maybe wasn’t the best idea.

The kraken visibly angered again, tensing her tentacle to dunk him and Danny back into the water. Danny heard Sam yell out for the kraken to stop, but the kraken continued nonetheless. Danny barely contained a gasp as the cold water rushed over him again. Danny sputtered as they re-emerged, grateful that the kraken wasn’t holding them under for longer than a few seconds. The first thing that Danny heard after coming back up, besides Tucker’s twin gasps for air, was Sam’s panicked yelling. It hurt to know that he was the cause of her panic, and it hurt to know that he was essentially powerless against it.

Deciding to test his luck, now knowing that the kraken could at least understand them, he yelled to get its attention. “Hey! Tall, dark, and slimy!” The kraken turned its enormous and angry eye to him, and he lost a little of his surety in his plan. “Uh, if you let my friends go right now, I, uh… Won’t suck you up in the thermos?” he shrugged. It was weak. He knew it, and the ghost kraken knew it, and how was he even going to weaken it enough to suck into the thermos anyway?

“Danny, that was literally a natural 1. A complete failure,” Tucker supplied helpfully, after seeing the number fizzle mockingly above his friend’s head.

The kraken shrieked again, even more enraged now. She raised her tentacle once again, readying for another dunk. Underneath his terror, Danny couldn’t help but feel like this was getting a little old. Sam once again came to their rescue, calling for the kraken to stop and hear them out. Danny couldn’t quite make out what she said, with Tucker screaming in his ear as they started to descend, but he did notice a large number 16 appear and then pop out of existence above Sam’s head. In fact, he didn’t hear any of her words until the kraken brought them back away from the water and let out a genuine purr . She had brought the tentacle holding Sam closer to her face and was listening intently. 

Sam was no longer yelling or pleading, but seemed to be in heated discussion. What. “I totally get it,” she was saying emphatically, gesturing boldly with her arms. “Everyone always assumes you’re mean and nasty just because you look a little different.”

Another purr that ripped the water below.

“Exactly! I bet you just can’t catch a break. Listen, I don’t know how much news about the outside world gets to wherever you live in the Ghost Zone, but I try to uphold my reputation as president of the Animal Rights and Freedoms group at Casper High, and I can see that you’re feeling very violated right now.” She shot Tucker a meaningful glance, gesturing again to the giant bell.

The kraken squealed in a frustrated tone.

“I don’t know how that bell got there, and I’m truly sorry for disturbing your nap.”

The kraken gurgled some more, as if asking her to go on.

“And I’m sorry that our first instinct was to resort to violence and insults as conflict resolution.”

The kraken seemed satisfied with that, but bubbled something else that Danny didn’t recognize, and shook him and Tucker slightly, as if reminding Sam they were still there.

Sam finally turned back toward her two friends. “She wants you to apologize.”

“Uh for what?” Tucker blurted. The kraken growled angrily. 

“Uh, for waking her up, obviously!” She replied with the same inflection. “And she wants Danny to apologize for scorching her second favorite tentacle with an ectoblast, and also calling her slimy.” 

The kraken wiggled the poor tentacle in front of them for emphasis, and Danny could see the slight discoloration where he had landed his blow. He winced slightly.

“Ouch. I’m sorry about that,” he finally relented. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just trying to protect my friends, you know? Is there anything we can do to make it up to you?” 

Tucker blinked a few times. Were his friends crazy? Danny must have been reading his thoughts, because he jabbed him in the ribs where his arm was still squashed between them, making him cough a little. “Uh, yeah sorry about waking you up. I didn’t realize it would be that loud,” he mumbled.

The kraken then began a series of gurgles and shrieks that sounded horrible and incomprehensible, but Danny saw Sam nodding along anyways. When the kraken was finished, Sam translated for them. “She said that if we can figure out a way to destroy the bell to make sure no one can ever wake her up again, she’ll let us go.”

“Oh that’s easy,” Danny sighed. “I’ll just blast it with-“

The kraken interrupted him with a low growl, constricting him slightly and squeezing more air out of him.

“No more explosions!” Sam was quick to explain. “She doesn’t want any more fire or ectoblasts or anything like that.”

“Uh, ok then,” Danny pondered. “Can we just drop it in the ocean?”

After another growl, Sam translated. “She doesn’t want to risk anyone finding it. You have to destroy it.”

Danny was silent for a little bit, before realizing that he was a little stupid. “What if I freeze it!” Frostbite had been teaching him all about how to use his ice powers in conjunction with his normal ghostly powers, to imbue his ice with a little bit of ectoplasm and make it unmeltable. He relayed this information to Sam and the kraken, who also went silent in thought. 

Tucker chimed in from beside Danny with another idea. “I might have something in my bag that can help? I could corrode it, or something, before Danny freezes it.” The kraken seemed to enjoy that idea also, and whistled lightly.

“That sounds good to you?” Sam asked her. At what was apparently a sound of affirmation, Sam turned to her two friends. “She’s in! But be careful,” she warned. “We’re on thin ice already.”

Danny huffed a little at the unintended joke. The kraken was already loosening her grip on him and Tucker, and bringing them closer to where she was still holding the enormous bell. By the time they were close enough to it to reach out and feel its cool metal body, the kraken had fully released them, and they were now standing on the large red tentacle instead.

Danny looked to Tucker first, who was rummaging around in his bag already. “I can’t believe I didn’t lose this thing in all that madness.” He suddenly shouts in triumph and holds up his hand in triumph, showing off his quarry. It is a small clay jug with a cork stopper, no bigger than one of those half-size milk cartons at the store. “If I’m right, and I’m an artificer, then this should be an alchemy jug. I just have to think about what I want it to be filled with and it will automatically fill with that substance.” He furrowed his brows in concentration. “How about poison?” He suggested. The sound of pouring liquid could be heard from outside the jug, and soon Tucker was sloshing it around happily. “Perfect!” he exclaimed. 

Tucker uncorked the jug and a comically green smoke began rising out of it. He pondered for a minute, and then, his decision made, reached over and poured the contents of the jug onto the hammer still swinging around inside the bell. The poison quickly ran over and seeped into the polished bronze, rusting it immediately, and causing it to fizzle and bubble. Soon, they were watching the small hammer break off from its arm and tumble into the ocean. The kraken seemed pleased about this, and bounced her tentacle slightly, as if to remind Danny of his promise as well.

“Well, here goes,” he started. He shook his arms out slightly before pressing them to the bell body. He tugged at the iciness in his core and felt the bell start to cool, water condensing and freezing onto its surface. At the same time, he used the more familiar ecto-energy at his core to pulse small amounts of ectoplasm into each layer of ice. Ectoplasm has regenerative properties, Frostbite had explained to him. So if you infuse your ice with a little bit of ectoplasm, that small amount of regeneration will keep the ice in a locked state, unable to melt. When Danny was done, the ice was fully encasing the bell. The ice had formed a little jaggedly, and it didn’t look very pretty, but it did the job. The kraken squealed happily, turning it over and over to examine it. Then, she promptly dropped it out of her tentacle and into the waiting water below. The bell seemed like it couldn’t make up its mind, bobbing between being fully submerged due to the density of the ectoplasm and the bell, and floating on top of it because of the pure ice. In the end, the ectoplasm won out, and the bell finally sunk into the depths until it was in view.

The kraken let out what Danny guessed was a sigh, relaxing a very palpable tension in its tentacles. She whistled and bubbled, and Sam interpreted all of it. “She said that’s much better.” Another little gurgle. “Really?” Sam replied to whatever she said. “Danny, Tucker! She said as thanks for our help, she’ll take us to the Captain! Oh thank you, that makes this so much easier.” She continued to gush at the kraken, who had now released Sam onto the tentacle where Danny and Tucker stood. The three of them sat, with legs dangling over the ocean, as the kraken began to move. Danny watched the water flow underneath him, huge amounts being displaced by the giant kraken’s mass.

“That was incredible, Sam!” Tucker exclaimed. “How did you calm her down like that?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said honestly. “She was just making noises at first, and to me it really sounded like she was trying to communicate something, so I said that I wished I could understand her, and it suddenly worked. It was like flipping a switch or something.”

“We seriously couldn’t have done it without you,” Danny thanked her sincerely. “I don’t know how we would have gotten out of that one.”

Sam sniffed, embarrassed and prideful at the same time at the praise. “Well, you wouldn’t have, obviously. It’s why you need me.”

The three friends fell into conversation about their successful encounter as the kraken swam along, each adding small embellishments here and there to make the others laugh at their ridiculousness. It wasn’t long before they started to see the large white sails of a huge pirate ship in the distance.

As they approached, the kraken began bellowing loudly, sending ripples through the water that traveled all the way to the ship, rocking it back and forth. Someone on board must have noticed the rocking, because Danny could hear someone begin blowing a loud horn. He was worried for a second that they would be met with more fighting, but as they got closer, he saw probably a dozen sailors swarm the deck from below and begin waving their arms in greeting. At the kraken?

The kraken slowed as she approached the ship, letting out small noises as the pirates all swarmed her with warm welcomes. He picked out one soldier calling her Cecilia. He felt slightly wrong-footed, feeling like he missed something in this kraken that all these other people didn’t, to be happy to see her and even know her name.

The kraken, Cecilia apparently, slowly lowered them to the deck of the ship. Danny and his friends jumped off, but they each clutched at each other for support in this unknown environment. The pirates around them were adorned in colorful and varied clothing. None looked at them with malice, but none of them greeted the teens, either, too caught up in the excitement of seeing the kraken. 

Danny was the first to speak up. “Um, hi?” he called. “We’re here to see the Captain? Um, the Ghost Writer sent us to find some key or something.”

Almost as if by magic, the crowd parted like a wave, revealing the imposing figure of who could be none other than the Captain. He was not partaking in the same joy that his crew was, but seemed rather annoyed that they weren’t acting as tough and as fierce as he was. He strode towards them purposefully, with a wet slopping sound. Danny could see water dripping off him in fast rivulets, more water than would be natural on a real person. The ghost Captain finally stood towering above them, with his arms crossed. He had an appraising look in his eyes, but instead of addressing them directly, he cast his eyes upward at the kraken and spoke to her. “This is who you’ve brought to me?” he asked in a gruff and wet voice.

The kraken gurgled her response. She must have been telling the Captain about their fight, because his eyes hardened slightly as she spoke. At the end of the kraken’s apparent tale, the Captain rubbed his thick black beard thoughtfully. “I see. And who was it that proved you wrong?”

Danny turned in time to see the kraken point one giant tentacle directly at Sam in a surprising show of dexterity. The Captain fixed her with a hard stare. It was hard for Danny to tell if it was a nice stare or not. Finally, after a beat of silence, the Captain spoke to Sam. “Young lass, do you know the significance of what you’ve done today?”

“Well,” Sam thought about her words carefully. “I just did what I would always do when there’s an animal in distress. I try to do whatever I can to give any animal the dignity they deserve. She just seemed so misunderstood.”

The Captain hummed, and then was silent again. No one spoke for long enough for Danny to get uncomfortable. Surprisingly, it was actually the kraken who spoke first, in a low gutteral gurgling noise. Whatever she said must have swayed the Captain into action, because he suddenly reached into his heavy jacket and produced an ornate, overly large key, strung on a long string of leather. He held it out to Sam. “My Cecilia seems to think you’re worthy of this. It’s only meant to go to those who have what it takes to save the Ghost Zone from eternal enslavement to Vlad Plasmius. Is that you?” The Captain’s voice was grave, and challenging.

Sam laughed a little, reaching out for the key. There was a moment when both she and the Captain were holding it at the same time, staring each other down, calculating gazes not leaving the other. “There’s no one better,” she said seriously.

“We’ve been thwarting that Fruit Loop’s plans from the very beginning,” Danny chimed in with confidence.

The Captain appraised Sam for a moment longer, never breaking his gaze. Finally he nodded and let go of the key, finally turning it over to the teen. “I trust Cecilia’s judgment. She does not trust easily. For her to have brought you to me of her own accord is a testament to your worthiness.”

The Captain finally cracked his first smile, only showing in his eyes, his mouth being hidden underneath the thick black beard. “Congratulations, adventurers.”

“All right!” Tucker exclaimed.The three of them shared triumphant embraces, as Sam tucked the key safely into one of the many bags around her waist.

“First key: check!” Danny pumped his fist. “Where to next?” he mused out loud. These pirates were cool and all, and he would love nothing more than to stay and get to know them, but he still had that pull in his chest tugging him onwards, reminding him that Amity Park still needed his help.

“Ah,” replied the Captain. “I can help you with that. The next key you’ll need is kept by Smithy. Last I saw, he was holed up in his over-the-top tower at the edge of the sea. Cecilia can take you there.” He motioned towards the kraken, who waved a tentacle in them in assent. “But be warned,” he cautioned. “Smithy is a solitary creature, who doesn’t like being disturbed. I know well the evil tactics he uses against those he doesn’t like.” The Captain shivered at some memory, then came back to the present with a shake of his head. Noticing the apprehension in the three teenagers before him, he huffed awkwardly. “You should be fine though,” he dismissed with a hand wave, looking away. “Just don’t sneak up on him.”

Danny and his friends barely had time to ask anymore questions before the Captain was signaling for Cecilia to scoop them back up. He yelped in surprise as one of her tentacles gripped him again in a familiar cold and wet embrace, much more gentle and friendly than before. Sam and Tucker were similarly picked up, and just like that, they were off again. They waved to the pirates behind them as they got further and further away. They were headed in a similar direction to where they started, but just slightly off. Danny guessed that they would end closer to the middle of the forest, where there was normally just a solitary walking path through the thick trees. Thinking of the Captain’s parting words, he started to dread just what waited in store for them.

Chapter Text

Danny’s prediction about where they would be dropped off, was mostly correct. To the west of them, he could still see the very top of FentonWorks, but it was definitely further away than before. Cecilia dropped them off on the shore, and waving them off with all 8 of her massive tentacles, disappeared gracefully back into the murky water.

They stood on the shore, unmovinging, while they each processed what just happened. Then, suddenly, they all exploded, all yelling at each other in excitement, clutched each other’s arms and laughing.

“I can’t believe that just happened!”

“I know! I can’t believe you were actually talking to a kraken!”

“ I can’t believe the best you could come up with was tall, dark, and slimy !”

They prodded each other more about their (in each of their own defenses) more than justified reactions to the giant angry ghost kaken. When they were calmer, Danny still had one question. “Seriously, Sam, how were you able to understand what she was saying when neither of us could?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Like I said, I couldn't at first, but then I could. It was like magic.”

Tucker adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. “That actually could have been magic,” he mused. “I think there’s a spell specific to druid’s that lets you talk with animals.”

“Huh,” Sam replied. “Accidental magic. Now I just need to learn it for real.”

“Do we all have magic?” Danny asked. 

Tucker shrugged. “A little bit. I don’t know all the specifics. You’ll just have to figure it out through trial and error.”

Danny sighed, disappointed with the lack of a concrete answer. “Well, let’s get going then. We have at least one more key to retrieve.”

With that, they all turned away from the shore and towards the forest. Through the trees, some unknown distance away was an impossibly tall tower, made of crooked stone, precariously leaning to one side.

“I’m guessing that’s the tower we have to get to?” Tucker asked. “What was his name? Smithy?”

“Hopefully, he’s ready for visitors,” Danny said nervously, the Captain’s warning returning to his mind once again. He took a deep breath and started off through the forest.

The trek to the tower was disappointingly uneventful. Or luckily, depending on how you viewed it. As they reached the base of the tower, however, they were blocked by a thick tangle of vines, tall enough to block their view of most of the bottom of the tower.

Easy , Danny thought. He unsheathed his sword, intending to slice at the giant wall.

Roll to hit , boomed the voice of the Ghost Writer, as Danny pulled back for his swing. Nothing changed about his actions, but he glanced up, and caught the edge of a number, appearing and disappearing above his head. Double digits was good, right? HIs sword landed the hit well, cleaving through so many vines. As he was readying for a second swing, however, the severed foliage wriggled slightly, and then actually grew back together. Danny definitely saw some of them sprout one or two more vines before it was like he never even touched them.

“Aw, man,” Tucker sighed. “It can never be easy can it.”

Danny tried blasting through the vines, as well as phasing through with intangibility, neither of which were successful, either.

He threw his hands up in frustration. “What gives? I thought a high number meant I did good?” he asked, referring to his apparent roll that had appeared before he swung with his sword.

Hmm, are those vines proving tricky for you? The Ghost Writer’s taunted in a sing-song voice. I wonder if there’s anything else you can try?

“I have an idea, Danny,” Sam stepped up. “I’m a druid, right? Tucker, you said druid’s are one with nature? Maybe I can talk with these plants like I talked with Cecilia.” She placed her palm against the vines and closed her eyes in concentration.

Nature check , Danny heard the Ghost Writer whisper.

“Can we please get through? I promise we won’t try to cut you anymore. I’ll even water you a little bit afterwards,” she said. A glowing number 20 flashed above her head, then exploded in a small firework.

At first nothing happened. The three of them glanced at each other in silence. Danny was about to just try blasting the vines again when the Ghost Writer abruptly spoke up again.

Well… The Ghost Writer seemed stunned for words after that. That is a natural 20…

Danny didn’t know what that meant, but it must be something good, because suddenly the vines started pulling back. A few of them curled around Sam, caressing her wrists and cheeks before sliding away, opening up for them to step through into the tower.

“I could get used to this,” Sam said, pleased with herself.

Danny stood stunned. “So unfair!” he cried, but the Ghost Writer had gone silent once again.

Instead, he and Tucker followed Sam up to the big wooden door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. Something about that seemed fishy to Danny. He stopped Same from turning the handle with a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me go first,” he said. “We don’t know what’s on the other side.”

Sam agreed with him and stepped to the side. Danny grabbed hold of the door, and then, thinking for a moment, also pulled the shield off his back and held it in front of him for good measure. He was glad he did, because when he opened the door, his shield was immediately pierced by a deadly looking crossbow bolt. Tucker and Sam jumped off to the side of the door, but Danny continued in, still holding his shield ahead of him, wary of any other attacks, and ready to fight whoever had fired that bolt.

Inside, the first floor of the tower was almost completely bare, except for two sets of empty armor displayed like guards on either side of a wooden ladder, that supposedly led up to the next floor. Torches lit the room, bouncing off of the still shiny metal of the armor. In the middle of the room, an unloaded crossbow stood on a makeshift tripod, with a string attached to the trigger. Danny followed the string's path, and found it, unsurprisingly, attached to the inner door handle that he had just come through.

“It’s safe, guys,” he called. “There’s no more traps.”

Tucker and Sam peeked their heads into the doorway, and upon observing the same thing that Danny had, also entered the room. “Let’s keep an eye out for anything else,” he advised. “We have a lot more floors to climb.” He was not looking forward to all those ladders.

Danny was once again the first to step up to the ladder, with Sam and Tucker behind him. As he grabbed the first rung, he felt something shift subtly beneath him, and then all hell broke loose. The two sets of armor to either side of him suddenly sprung to life, grabbing both Sam and Tucker before anyone could do anything else.

“Danny!” they both exclaimed at the same time. Each of the sets of armor tightened their grip simultaneously, with the two teens in their grasp unable to break free. At the same time, both sets of armor began emitting harsh jets of steam from the holes in their helmets. Tucker and Sam shared twin looks of panic as they realized the metal was getting hotter, and while it was bearable now, they had no doubt it would soon be getting much worse.

Danny hesitated slightly. There were two of them and only one of him. He couldn’t help both of his friends at once, and whoever he didn’t help right away would likely get burned. He didn’t know what to do.

“Go help Sam!” Tucker yelled, somehow finding enough movement in his arm to thrust his hand into his bag and begin rummaging around. “I got this!”

There was no time to lose. Danny trusted his friends, and right now he had to trust that Tucker knew what he was doing. He focused his attention on the armor still holding Sam in a death grip. He could see the bare skin of her arms starting to turn an angry red where it was pressed close to the rapidly heating metal.

Danny didn’t think. He just grabbed onto one the arms wrapped around his friend and started pulling. “Push, Sam!” he instructed, grunting as he yanked as hard as he could. This thing was stronger than it looked, and its arm hardly moved at all, even with both of them using all their strength. Danny was vaguely aware of another number flash above Sam’s head as they struggled, and he had no doubt that a similar number was appearing above his head. The hot metal was starting to scald his hands, and Danny couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Sam. He tried to pull harder, but to no avail.

“It’s no use!” Sam gritted out. “We’re not strong enough!”

“Maybe we can loosen it enough that you can slip through!”

“I’m really not trying to burn the whole front half of my body, Danny!” Sam was able to quip. She hissed in pain as the hot metal touched a new part of her arm. The armor was starting to change color, a faint red gold starting to peek through.

“No! I can’t let you get hurt!” Danny pleaded. Every nerve ending felt like it was going haywire. He barely registered the pain in his hands, solely focused on getting Sam out. A bead of sweat crawled down his face, and Sam was similarly strained.

Then, two  things happened at once. First, Danny heard a loud crack behind him, followed by the clattering of metal falling indiscriminately to the floor. The loud noise broke his concentration, and he turned slightly to see what that could have been.

Oh god, Tucker , was the thought that quickly took over his brain.

The second thing that happened also occurred when he had his head turned towards the sound of the noise. Behind him now, he felt the pressure against Sam from the armor’s arm lessen, and the arm was suddenly tugged close to the suit’s chest. And because Danny still had a death grip on the arm, he was yanked forward also.

He felt like he had whiplash. Turing back to see what had caused this jolt, a shot ran through him and his heart rate spiked when he couldn’t see Sam anywhere. It was like she completely disappeared. He searched frantically around the small room for where she could have gone but didn’t see her anywhere. Strangely, the armor didn’t seem to know or care, and remained unmoving. It was also still heating up.

Danny abruptly let go of the now scalding hot metal and backed away. Maybe Sam had somehow slipped out. She must have, because he didn’t want to think about any other alternatives. Then, from his feet, he heard a tiny squeak. Looking down, he spotted a small, all-black rabbit looking at him and wiggling its nose. How did a rabbit get in here? And where was Sam? But wait… Hadn’t Tucker said something about druids and small animals earlier?

“S-Sam?” he asked hesitantly. “Is that you?” There was no way… Right?

The rabbit hopped slightly and squealed at him. Oh god.

“How do we get you back to normal?” he panicked slightly.

“Don’t worry, Danny.” Tucker was suddenly next to him, perfectly healthy and acting like he hadn’t just been grappled by a walking oven. He brushed some suspicious-looking dust off his shoulder. “If she doesn’t choose to turn back in her own, the magic will wear off in-“

There was a comical pop, and suddenly the small black rabbit was replaced with a disoriented-looking Sam. She stumbled slightly, holding her head, and Danny caught her by the elbow.

“Right now!” Tucker said cheerily. “I don’t think the Ghost Writer started us at a very high level.” Then he frowned slightly, as if offended.

“I’m glad you’re back to normal, Sam,” Danny said. “How did you do that?”

Sam rubbed her temple slightly, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was just thinking that we needed to create space between me and that suit of armor so that I could escape, and then all of a sudden, I was apparently a rabbit. Speaking of that stupid hunk of metal-” Sam whipped around, stepping behind Danny so that he was in between her and the now unmoving set of armor. It hadn’t moved an inch since Sam got free. It seemed as if it didn’t have very much intelligence at all and had only activated when they got close.

Danny unsheathed his sword and cautiously poked at the armor’s chest. Still, it did nothing, and he was able to unbalance it enough that it tipped backwards and fell apart with a loud rattle. Steam dissipated from its insides, but it was hard to tell where it had originated from in the first place. Danny just chalked it up to magic

“You just Wild Shaped!” Tucker supplied to Sam helpfully. “All druids can do it, but at the level we’re at, not for very long.”

“Huh,” was all Sam said. She looked at her hands and arms, and then craned her neck to look at the rest of her body. “Cool.”

Now that the armor didn’t seem to be a threat anymore, Danny was able to think back on what just happened. “Hey,” he said slowly. “How did you get out Tucker?” He looked behind him, and saw the armor that was holding Tucker captive was in a similar state, but a huge hole was ripped crudely through the chest plate and the right arm. There was some sort of black dust stuck to the edges around the hole, as well.

“Oh, I have a gun,” he said matter-of-factly, and pulled an honest-to-god pistol out of a small holster inside his bag.

Danny stepped back in surprise. “Woah, how did you get that? It’s so dangerous!”

“It’s been in here since the beginning.” He tucked the weapon back in his bag and patted it to make sure it was secure. “I didn’t want to use it because, duh, gun. But it was the first thing I grabbed when I reached into my bag just now, and it’s just a hollow suit of armor anyways.” He shrugged. “It was an awkward angle, but as soon as the arm came off, the rest of the armor just fell apart, too.”

“We’re in a fantasy world where people can cast spells and turn into animals, and the Ghost Writer gave Tucker a gun,” Sam complained. “That totally makes sense, and was a really good idea.” The sarcasm rolled off her in waves.

For all his intervention earlier, the Ghost Writer remained quiet at this jab. Maybe because he knew she was right.

With the immediate threat out of the way, Danny was able to truly look over his friends for any injuries. Neither of them were hurt too badly, but they both had angry red burns across their arms and hands where the armor had touched them. Slightly distraught, he held one of their arms in each of his hands, trying to think of a way to fix this. If only he could heal them like he could heal himself, he thought, noticing that the burns on his own hands were already mostly gone.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Danny felt a surge of energy from his core flow into his hands that he didn’t consciously call. His hands glowed a faint ectoplasm-green, and before his eyes, the burns on Sam and Tucker’s arms began to heal themselves. He watched in wonder as the light dissipated and the injuries looked no worse than a bad sunburn. He let go of their arms instantly, looking at his palms as if they were something new. 

“How did I do that?” he asked, bewildered.

“I think it’s a paladin thing,” Tucker replied, rubbing the red marks on his arms. “Pretty handy though.”

“Do you think I could do this in real life, too?” he asked, suddenly thinking about all the times his friends or Jazz had gotten hurt helping him fight ghosts, and wondering if he could have done something after all.

“I see that guilt, Danny,” Sam warned. “Don’t think about the past. Think about how you can use this knowledge in the future. When we get out of this, you can test it out, but we can’t lose focus now.” Her voice was guiding, yet firm, forcing Danny to put aside his worries and focus on the present. She was right. They still had a job to do.

“Right,” he said, steeling himself. “Let’s get through the rest of this tower and get that second key. Hopefully these guys were the last of our problems.” He went back to the ladder and began to climb. Sam followed him shortly after. Tucker made a skeptical noise, and was the last to climb up to the second floor.

‘These guys’ were, in fact, not the last of their problems. To be more accurate, they were actually more like the first of their problems. On the second floor, they encountered moving walls that tried to crush them into pancakes. The third floor was occupied by large toxic cubes of slime. The fourth floor was booby-trapped with flaming arrows and deadly spikes. So on and so forth - you get the picture. They climbed 10 total floors that way, each more deadly than the last. They evaded actual real bears (who puts bears in the middle of a tower anyway??), small labyrinths cloaked in magical darkness (how did they put a whole maze onto one of these floors?), and all numbers and variations of what can only be described as ‘death traps’.

Finally, mercifully , they emerged on the 11th, and final, floor. Tucker was missing a shoe, courtesy of the slime. Sam’s hair was singed at the edges, and she was coated in a mysterious purple ooze that smelled slightly of seaweed. Danny had an instinctive death grip on both his sword and shield, both of which, he was sure, he would have died without. After 10 sets of ladders and fighting for his life, he was understandably exhausted, and collapsed to one knee after climbing through, whatever horrors await them, be damned. He was breathing heavily, and his ghostly white hair was tousled and crazy-looking.

Instead of some monster or trap or new hellish puzzle, when Danny looked up, the room that awaited them was surprisingly mundane. The tall sloping roof signaled this room as the highest room in the tower, and it was the only room so far with windows to the outside. Through these arched windows, Danny could see that it was much later in the day, with the sun just about to set over the horizon, casting this new fantasy world in a soft orange glow. The interior of the room was complemented by this soft glow as well. There was a large fireplace nearest to the entrance ladder, surrounded by a large brown couch and matching chairs that looked like they could swallow you whole in their accompanying pillows and blankets. Moving clockwise from the fireplace, there was a sectioned off portion of the room (a bathroom perhaps?), followed by what was clearly the bedroom, with an equally comfy looking bed, and ornate nightstand. The ‘kitchen’ was next to the sleeping area, with drying and hanging herbs and a wood burning stove giving it a rustic feel. Then, in the center of the room, and actually taking up more space than anything else, was a large round table, completely covered in various bits of machinery, tools, and other miscellaneous tinkering supplies. Splayed out on the table was a humanoid automaton, unpowered, with its head and chest cavities opened up to reveal a mess of wires, gears and other various electronics.

And finally, elbows deep in this robot’s chest, was a short, rail-thin ghost in thick rectangular glasses, not much older than Danny and his friends. His tongue was sticking out of his mouth in concentration, and he had a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and he was balancing precariously with one foot on the edge of a chair in order to reach inside the robot. There was a discarded robe adorned with small stars thrown haphazardly over the back of said chair. Despite being in clear view of this new ghost, they miraculously hadn’t drawn his attention yet, absorbed in his work as he was.

Time to get this over with , Danny thought. He used his sword to brace himself as he stood back up and cleared his throat to get the ghost to notice them, but when that didn’t immediately work he called out in a tired voice, “Hello? Excuse me? Are you Smithy?”

At the sound of his voice, the ghost startled sharply and stumbled slightly on his chair. He barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the table before toppling forward onto the delicate looking robot. He adjusted his glasses, finally noticing the newcomers. “Ah, I see. Someone has made it through my gauntlet,” he announced, trying to hide the slight wobble in his voice from being startled. He wiped grease from his hands onto his pants and jumped down from his chair. “I’m sorry, but visitors aren’t allowed. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Without warning, he hoisted something large off the table, previously hidden behind the robot’s body. He pointed it at the three of them and cocked it. Danny realized that it was a giant gatling gun, and seriously? More guns? Why was he only allowed to have a sword?

“By force, if necessary,” the ghost finished, eyeing Danny’s sword with suspicion.

“Look, we’re not here for a fight,” he said slowly. “Here, I’ll even drop my weapons.” At a nod from the other ghost, Danny slowly placed his sword and shield on the ground, never breaking eye contact with the wary ghost. When he was sufficiently disarmed, he raised his hands above his head, Sam and Tucker shortly following suit.

“What are you here for, then?” the ghost interrogated. “And how do you know my name?”

That confirmed that, then. Danny relaxed slightly, but still didn’t lower his hands. “The Captain sent us? He said you have some key that we apparently need. To stop Plasmius from enslaving the Ghost Zone or something. And honestly, I would also kind of prefer it if it wasn’t enslaved, too.”

Smithy’s eyes narrowed. “That soggy menace sent you, didn’t he? And I guess you did manage to survive my impossible tower…” He trailed off, seeming to be attempting to convince himself of their goodness. Locking eyes with Danny again, he said, “You’re Phantom, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you from some of the other ghosts that you’ve bested in the living world.” Uh oh . “You’re just like Plasmius, too, aren’t you? A halfa? Who’s to say you aren’t going to try to do the same thing as him, hmm?” 

This wasn’t going well. “If you’ve heard about me,” Danny defended, “then you know that I fight with Plasmius, too. He and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. I care more about protecting Amity Park, and unlike him, I actually care about the Ghost Zone. Heck, I have weekly appointments with Frostbite in the Far Frozen and with Clockwork to learn about how I can use my powers to protect both humans and ghosts.”

Smithy raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? Clockwork? I had heard that, but I thought it was only a rumor.” He lowered his gun slightly, and Danny sighed in relief. Smithy gave him a calculating look. Then, after having apparently made a decision. “I’ll tell you what. You prove to me that you’re serious about helping all ghosts by helping me fix my defense bot, and I’ll give you the second key. And I’ll even tell you what I’ve learned about Plasmius’ plan.”

“Deal!” Danny said immediately. Realizing he was not good with robotics or technology, he became hesitant again. “Uh, how do we fix this robot? What’s wrong with it?”

Smithy waved him over, and with a glance at Sam and Tucker, who looked just as lost, he stepped forward. Even being closer to the robot and seeing more of its intricate designs, he still had no idea what he was looking at.

“The issue,” Smithy began explaining, “is that it’s supposed to defend me and attack everything else. Only, when I’ve tested it, it seems to forget that as soon as it attacks something, and I have to force it to power down via the emergency switch.” He grimaced in confusion, obviously having been stuck at this predicament for quite some time.

Ok, now Danny definitely wasn’t qualified for this. He was slowly starting to despair when Tucker placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I might be able to help,” he said confidently. He stepped forward, peering thoughtfully into the robot’s chest. “You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve had to do the exact opposite when we’ve fought Technus. Getting his own tech to fight against him is surprisingly easy when you do it enough times.”

Smithy gave him an appraising look, and then he was unstoppable, delving deeper into more technical jargon that made Danny’s head swim, but had Tucker nodding in understanding. He seemed to be explaining how the robot was supposed to work. Tucker asked a few questions, and soon the two techies were both poking around in the robot’s cavities. Danny felt a little useless and silly as he watched them work. He had no idea Tucker was so proficient at this, but then again, he had made a good point earlier about Technus. He hadn’t realized just how much experience he had gotten from their ghost fights.

Sharing a glance, Danny and Sam elected to get out of the way of their work, the technical details flying way over their heads. They both sat down on the couch, sinking into its plush embrace.

“I could spend days on this couch,” Danny sighed.

“Agreed. If I could stay here for the rest of my life, I would.”

There was no more conversation after that, both friends suddenly realizing how exhausted they truly were. The sun had continued to set throughout their conversation and night was just on the horizon. The room around them was bathed in the warm glow from the fireplace, and Danny and Sam could feel its pleasant warmth sinking into their bones, and swiftly pulled them into sleep. Neither of them resisted, and soon they were breathing deeply and dreaming of nothing.

It was several hours later when Danny woke with a jolt to Tucker’s triumphant cry and Smithy’s whoop of satisfaction. He blinked sleep out of his eyes to notice that it was still night time, so he hadn’t slept that long. Sam was still out like a light when he glanced over at her, so he stood from the couch alone to let her sleep. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, turning to inquire about the commotion. He caught Tucker and Smithy high-fiving each other over the lap of the robot, which was now sitting up with all its bits and pieces stored away. Its eyes had a pale blue glow, as did a swirling pattern on its chest where the metal connected back together.

“I told you it was all in the memory circuit! Just one crossed wire and the whole thing malfunctions.” Tucker exclaimed. “And we managed to make him even better! Danny, come test this out! We upgraded his software so now you can give him other people to consider friendly. Perfect for defending groups! Watch this.” Tucker cleared his throat, and waved his hand dramatically before pressing a button on the robot’s chest in the middle of the glowing swirl. It flashed once, and then the robot turned its head to look at him. “T.S. Eliot,” he addressed the robot. “Log Danny Phantom into your friends database.”

At Tucker’s words, the robot then looked right at Danny. Its eyes glowed brighter and he could feel a sharp beam scanning him from head to toe. When it was done, all of its lights flashed green briefly before returning to their neutral blue. “Profile successfully created. DNA ingested. New friend: Danny Phantom,” the robot intoned monotonously.

“Yes!” Tucker and Smithy fistbumped. “He’s only programmed to recognize my voice or Smithy’s so if someone other than either of us tries to give him a command, he won’t listen,” he explained. “He’s also able to lock on to our DNA signatures as additional confirmation, so he should recognize you as Phantom and Danny. Try it out.”

Danny did as he was told, letting his transformation wash over him again, returning his usual jet black hair and blue eyes. 

“T.S. Eliot,” Tucker addressed again. “Identify nearby friends.”

“Friends identified: Tucker Foley, Arnold Smith, Danny Phantom.”

Tucker was grinning with glee, and Danny was thoroughly impressed, but he did have one question. “Why is his name T.S. Eliot? Is it because you heard his name in Lancer’s poetry section recently.”

“Well, ‘T’ is for Tucker, ‘S’ is for Smithy, and Eliot was just what we thought would fit.” Tucker shrugged. “The poet may or may not have been in my subconscious. We’ll never know.”

“Right…” Danny was a little skeptical, but he’d let it slide for now. “Is our end of the deal satisfied? Will you give us the key?” He turned toward Smithy, expectantly (was his name really Arnold? Poor guy).

“I’d say it is,” Smithy was much more cheerful than he had been a few hours ago. He clapped Tucker on the back and adjusted his glasses. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. And seeing as Mr. Eliot is fixed and better than ever, I suppose I owe you a key and some information.” He glanced out the window behind Danny, also noticing how dark it had gotten. “Why don’t you rest up for the night, and I’ll tell you everything in the morning. After your climb through my tower, I know better than most how tired you must be. You’ll need all the rest you can get.”

Danny could hardly protest. Even after the few hours of sleep he had gotten, he still felt exhausted. Smithy directed them back to the couch, which could easily fit all three friends. Sam was still sleeping soundly where Danny had left her. He took off his armor this time, intending to sleep for real, and was also able to remove Sam’s heavy belt and supply bag without waking her up. Tucker had similarly stripped out of his leather armor, leaving his giant satchel in one of the many chairs. They both climbed into the couch, tucking themselves into one of its large blankets, and were asleep before Smithy could even say goodnight.

When Danny woke for the second time, it was to light upbeat whistling and the smell of cooking bacon. He blinked, noticing the warm morning light filtering in through the windows. Sam and Tucker were stirring as well, rubbing their eyes with a yawn. Looking over the back of the couch, Danny could see Smithy at the stove in the kitchen.

“I may be a ghost,” he called over his shoulder, flipping the pan expertly to toss the bacon, “but I know how important breakfast is. Come eat, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

Smithy had cleared off a small section of the giant table in the middle, and they all sat down, enjoying bacon, toast and simply scrambled eggs. When they were all settled, Smithy began explaining:

“Now this is going to sound a little meta, but bear with me, because this isn’t a conventional game of D&D. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but the Ghost Writer has written us all into a real-life Dungeons and Dragons campaign, and I’m sure you’re familiar with how his powers operate. Once he starts a story, it has to be finished, and for a campaign to end, the party technically has to defeat the BBEG - that’s ‘Big Bad Evil Guy’. In this case, that’s Vlad Plasmius. Are you following?”

At their nods of encouragement, he continues. “You guys are the party, obviously, so you have to be the ones to finish this. The Captain and I, along with one other ghost, were the Ghost Writer’s original party, so he’s given us special roles in your campaign, mainly as the keepers of the keys to Vlad’s secret lab. I don’t know if Vlad knows about this, but if he does, he would probably have already attacked us by now. From what the Ghost Writer said, he seemed pretty overwhelmed with his Obsession at the time, so he’s probably a little single-minded right now. That being said, the only instruction we were given was to give these keys to ‘only the most worthy’. Those were the Ghost Writer’s exact words. From what I know, Vlad’s ultimate goal is to gain power using the Ghost Zone to become practically untouchable, and of course none of us want that.” He scoffs. “So the Ghost Writer figured out a backdoor of sorts to make sure that even if he enabled Vlad’s schemes, someone would be there to stop him.”

“How is Vlad planning on using the Ghost Zone for power?” Danny asked. That was some concerning news to hear.

“In this D&D setting, powerful wizards can create what are called phylacteries, which are used to store souls and prevent the maker from dying. The more souls, the more powerful the newly created lich, and the Ghost Zone literally houses nearly every soul that has ever existed or will ever exist in the future. So… you can say it’s a bit of a problem.”

Danny remembered the Captain saying that word, as well. “How do you make something into a phylactery? Can we stop him?”

“It takes a long time,” Smithy assured. “But I have no doubt that the process has already begun. You’ll have to stop him before he finishes, and destroy his portal so that he can’t try it again. That’s why you need these keys. Speaking of-”

Smithy turned to the idle Eliot still sitting on the table and rotated his arm around, revealing a set of buttons similar to those on a phone, only without the numbers. He pressed them in a pattern at a dizzying speed that Danny couldn’t keep up with, and soon there was a small hiss of air, and the arm opened up into a small compartment. Inside the compartment, was, lo and behold, the second key. Smithy sealed the key back up in the robot’s arm and turned back to the teens.

“I think it’s safest if they stayed in Eliot’s arm until you really need it, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.” Danny was about to protest, but Smithy held up a finger to quiet him. “Which is why I am sending him with you. I taught the code to Tucker last night for this exact reason. Use him to the best of your abilities.”

Danny was stunned. “I- Thank you,” he stuttered. “We’ll take any help we can get.”

Smithy smiled at him. “Please don’t let Plasmius win. That would kind of suck.”

“We won’t let you down!”

The group finished getting ready for the day, donning their armor and their gear, and making sure Eliot had all of them programmed as friends. Tucker and Smithy exchanged words of gratitude and luck, and then they were ready to head out again. Except for the fact that they didn’t know where this third and final ghost could be found.

Danny brought this fact up, and Smithy jumped into action immediately. “You’re right! I forgot! Here,” he ushered the group towards a storage shelf near the fireplace, and pulled out a long, golden spyglass. “The ghost you’re looking for is named Hugo. He’s got a bit of a… fiery… personality.” He chucked to himself before continuing. “He’s a little bit of a loose cannon and does what he wants, which is mainly setting things on fire. Take a look around with this, and maybe you’ll spot some unusual smoke or something. That should point you in the right direction.”

He handed the spyglass to Tucker first, who did not try to hide his amusement at being chosen. He took the spyglass to each window around the room and peered through it. At each window, Danny briefly saw a number flash above his head. All of them seemed good in the double digits, except for the last one, which displayed a sad looking number 5. After his perusal, he sadly announced that he didn’t see anything unusual.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “Let me see.” She snatched the spyglass from his hand and looked through it out of the last window Tucker had gone to. A glowing number 14 appeared above her head. Gasping, she lowered the spyglass.

“What is it?” Danny asked quickly.

“The school! There’s a huge fire at the school! Tucker, how did you miss this?” 

Tucker gaped, offended. “It must have just started! I swear it wasn’t there before!”

“Whenever it started,” Danny intervened. “That’s where we have to go. C’mon, let’s get down there.” He started for the ladder, and then suddenly remembered what they had to face on their way up. “Um, Smithy? Is there another way down, by any chance?”

Smithy looked confused for a beat, and then noticed where Danny was headed, and laughed. “Oh yeah,” he said through his laughter. “Sorry about that. Here, I have an elevator.”

“An elevator!” exclaimed the three friends in unison.

Smithy was over at the fireplace now, tugging at a small figurine in a suit of armor that was sitting on the mantle. As he tipped it, the front portion of the fireplace swung away, revealing a thin elevator, just waiting there. It taunted them with its simplicity.

“It’ll take you all the way to the first floor. I’ll ring the doormen to let you know you’re coming.” Smithy said, pressing one of the buttons inside.

“You mean those crazy suits of armor that tried to roast us alive?” Tucker asked indignantly.

“Who else would I be talking about?” Smithy said in a joking tone. “Now, hurry up and get in. You have a ghost to catch!”

The three of them plus Eliot filed into the elevator. It just barely fit all of them, especially with all their bulky equipment.

“Good luck!” Smithy called as the fireplace door swung shut and they started to descend. The only lights in the elevator came from Eliot’s blue glow and an even fainter glow coming from Danny’s sword and shield.

It took a mockingly short amount of time to reach the bottom, knowing all the effort that it had taken them to go up, and soon they were stepping out of the elevator and onto that fated first floor again. The two sets of armor were somehow put back together again, but the crossbow trap looked like it hadn’t been assembled yet. As they crossed towards the exit door, one of the suits of armor banged a fist to its chest, in what Danny interpreted as a greeting. He mimicked the motion, and the armor inclines its hollow head. They wasted no more time leaving the tower, and as the heavy wooden door shut behind them, they could hear the armor shuffling around inside.

They must be setting the trap back up , Danny wondered. He was grateful that they wouldn’t have to go back in that tower any time soon.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked. “Casper High is so far from here.”

She was right. They likely wouldn’t be fast enough on foot, and Danny couldn’t fly while carrying all of them, especially now that they had an extra member.

“We could make a pitstop at FentonWorks and commandeer the Ops Center,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed. “It looked like it was still there when we went there yesterday. Just in balloon form.”

Then it was settled. They took the shortest route that they knew through the park, back to Danny’s house. The street layout had remained pretty much the same in the transformation, so it was easy to navigate, but Danny still marveled at the strange new architecture. People were just going about their daily lives, as if this was all normal. He spotted some young girls playing with a jump rope and kicking up dust, right next to a horse tied calmly to a stake in front of some store or saloon. These people were oblivious to the drastic change that had happened here, which sent another twinge through Danny’s core at his desire to fix this as fast as possible.

They made it to FentonWorks in a record 10 minutes, and soon were walking up the stairs to the front door. Danny opened it and was immediately assaulted by his older sister throwing him into an embrace. “Oh, Danny, I was so worried about you!” She whined. “Mom and Dad didn’t come home last night, and then neither did you, and I was so worried.” She pulled back, holding him at arm's length to check him over. “Are you ok?’

“I’m ok Jazz. It’s just been an eventful day.” Then, he fully registered what she said. “What do you mean Mom and Dad never came home?” A feeling of dread started to well up inside of him.

“That’s exactly it. They left right before you came to see me in the Ops Center, and then they haven’t come back. I’m worried.” Her quiet voice betrayed her fear. At closer inspection, she had dark bags under her eyes, and her fingernails were chewed raw.

Their parents were frequently out for overnight experiments, so that wasn’t the unusual part. What did worry him was the fact that they hadn’t told them beforehand. Sure, sometimes his parents weren’t the best at paying attention to their kids, but they always made sure to let them know if they were going to be MIA for some experiment or test when the need arose. The fact that they hadn’t checked in set off a warning bell in Danny’s mind.

“Do you think Vlad could have taken them?” Sam asked. “Smithy did say he was going a little Obsession-crazy, and we know part of his Obsession does involve your dad…” She trailed off, not liking where this line of thought was taking her.

“Sounds like you guys are already into something deep,” Jazz noticed. “If you’re going to fight Vlad, I’m coming with you. What’s going on?”

“It’s a really complicated backstory, Jazz,” Danny attempted to explain. “But essentially we’re trying to stop him from turning the Ghost Zone into one giant, superpowered phylactery.” Jazz gasped, recognizing the word. Danny was just glad he had apparently said it right. “We have one rogue ghost to catch in order to gather all the keys needed to break into his lab and stop him. It might be really dangerous, Jazz. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can handle myself, little brother,” she defended. “Plus, I finally got the hang of that shield spell! Look!” She replicated the chant and the motions that she had been practicing in the Ops Center, and the swirling colors of energy immediately expanded and curved around her in a graceful shield. Jazz beamed as she let the magic dissipate.

Danny quirked a small smile. “That puts me more at ease. Alright, you can come with,” he conceded. “We’re taking the Ops Center to the school. That’s where we think this other ghost is - Hugo.”

“Great! Let’s go get it started up and you can fill me in on the full plan while we’re in the air.” Jazz turned and quickly bounded the stairs up to the Ops Center, with Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Eliot following close behind.

Danny wasn’t sure how the Ops Center would work if they didn’t have the same technology for it. As Jazz was spinning wheels and flipping levers, he puzzled over it until she finally noticed him.

Rolling her eyes, she heard his silent question. “It’s called a zeppelin, Danny. Did you already forget Dad’s flying lesson 101?”

“Sorry Jazz,” Danny apologized, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I must’ve not been paying attention.”

It wasn’t long before the zeppelin was in the air and heading for the school. Jazz at the helm called them all over. “Now tell me the plan and everything you know. Don’t leave anything out; I don’t want to be underprepared.” 

Danny wanted to tell her everything, from the very beginning. This was going to be a difficult story to explain.

Chapter Text

The full story was, indeed, difficult to explain. The more he talked, the more confused Jazz seemed to get. He started by trying to describe what the real world was like, and that all of this was not normal. He got into how they were thrown into this mess, and what the various ghosts had told them so far. He ended where they were right now, on their way to retrieve the final key from Hugo, the flaming, temperamental ghost.

“I have so many questions,” Jazz said after a heavy pause. “You’re saying none of this is real?” She gestured vaguely at everything passing by below them.

“It’s not not real.” Danny tried to explain. “It’s just different from how it’s supposed to look.”

“And it’s all like this just so Vlad can satisfy his weird power fantasy?” Jazz asked angrily.

“Pretty much.” Danny shrugged. When you put it that way, it definitely was a little silly.

Jazz paused for even longer, digesting everything she had been told. Finally she nodded. “Alright,” she decided. “I believe you, Danny, even if I don’t really grasp what’s going on. Let’s find this ghost and then go teach that weirdo a lesson.” She punched a fist into her open hand, a murderous look in her eye remeniscent of they time they used the Ecto-Skeleton to fight Vlad together.

They were quickly approaching the school, and so they all shifted their focus back to the task on hand. The school was below them, consumed entirely by flames. Luckily, it was still the weekend, so the only people there had been the football team during a morning practice. The practice had been forgotten altogether, in lieu of gaping in horror at the blazing inferno that used to be Casper High.

Danny and crew made the smart decision to land the Ops Center a good distance away and upwind from the school. The exited quickly, scanning the area for signs of the fiery ghost, but if he had been here, he was long gone. Giving the building a wide berth, they approached the football team, hoping to ask them some questions.

“Hey, did you happen to see the ghost that did this?” Sam asked them, choosing speed over etiquette.

One of the bigger guys tore his gaze away from the flames to answer them. “It all just happened so fast,” he said, voice deadpan with shock. “One minute we were just practicing our formations, and the next the school was just like this.” He gestured to the fire and then let his hand fall limply.

“We’re trying to catch whoever did this,” Danny supplied. “Did you notice anyone at all? Anyone ghost-like?”

Another footballer piped up from behind him. “Yeah, I saw him. He was laughing like crazy and just kept shooting more flames from his hands.”

“Did you see where he went?”

The player pointed towards the center of town, and Danny’s stomach sank. This was very bad. Danny exchanged wide-eyed glances with his group, without a word, took off towards the direction that the football player had indicated.

“Thanks, guys!” Tucker called behind him as they ran.

Already, they could see signs of the carnage that Hugo had left in his wake. They came across scorched and still-burning plants on the side of the road, an overturned carriage also (of course) on fire. As they entered the more dense part of the city, they noticed that they were the only ones going toward the source of the fire. Citizens were frantically putting out small fires, trying to preemptively soak their valuables so they didn't get wet, and straight up just running away. Several buildings were completely engulfed in flames, and Danny spotted a few people desperately trying to keep the fire from spreading.

In the end, it wasn’t hard to find where Hugo ultimately went. They found him in front of City Hall, in the middle of torching the giant statue of Vlad as mayor that somehow still made it into this fantasy setting. All the citizens had already fled this area, so it was just Danny, his friends, and this angry burning ghost.

Hugo was tall and slender, with wild green flames adorning his head like hair. With his hands out in front of him, he was shooting fire straight at the wooden statue like he was the most overpowered flamethrower in the world. He had the most maniacal grin on his face, rage and pleasure burning brightly in the reflection of his eyes. Danny could see that the base of the statue was already weak from the flames, and it was leaning precariously to the left. Its trajectory when it fell would slam it directly on top of a small bakery that Danny recognized. He had saved the baker’s wife once, and now as Phantom, he was given free croissants any time he stopped by.

Danny wasted no time, transforming into Phantom immediately. “Hey hothead!” he called. “Freeze!” He tugged at his icy core, and shot a blast of ice directly at the base of the statue, snuffing out the flames and strengthening its support all in one go. He pulled the shield off his back, and unsheathed his sword, ready for a fight.

Hugo whipped around angrily, focused solely on Danny. The intensity of his gaze was a little scary, and Danny suddenly realized that getting this key would not be as easy as the previous two had been. With Hugo facing him, he could see the key hung prominently around his neck, as if taunting him to try and take it.

Hugo’s eye was sharp, and he spotted Danny glancing at the key. “I suppose you’re here for this?” he asked in a low and dangerous tone. “Well, the joke is on you, because I don’t care what the Ghost Writer said; I’m not giving this key to anyone!” He clutched it protectively to his chest.

Danny watched him carefully, ready to spring into action the moment he looked like he would attack. “Listen, Hugo, I’m sure we want the same thing-” he was interrupted by a sharp peal of laughter from the other ghost before he could finish his sentence.

“You’re already so wrong,” Hugo laughed. “What I want is to be left alone. I want to be able to do what I want, when I want, with no one to stop me. If I give you this key, you’ll just change everything back to the way things were, and then I’ll be stuck back at square one, wasting away in Walker’s godforsaken prison. If I stay out here, I get to escape Plasmius. Right now, that pitiful halfa has horse blinders on, only focused on the Ghost Zone. As long as he’s concentrating on his phylactery, I get to roam free.” Hugo laughed again. “So you see, I can’t let you have this key, and I can’t let you stop Plasmius’ plan either.” His voice got lower, more threatening. “And I think you and I both know what’s going to happen next. Are you going to fight me for this key, Phantom?” he taunted. “Be my guest!”

And with that Huge threw both hands in front of him, spewing flame at Danny and his friends behind him. With lightning fast reflexes honed from two years of ghost fighting, Danny was able to lift his shield just in time to block the deadly blast of fire. It spread outward from where it impacted the shield, and Danny could feel just how hot it was, practically singing his eyebrows and hair. This was no ordinary fire, this was ghostly fire. And to combat ghostly fire, you needed ghostly ice.

Plan in mind, Danny slowly started inching forward, shield still braced in front of him. He was surprised, as he moved, just how much force this fire was pushing into him. The flames around him continued to get hotter and brighter. When he was sure that he was close enough to Hugo, he breathed deeply before channeling as much energy as he could and pushing it out from his shield. He instantly saw the edges of the shield frost over and Danny was immediately chilled to the core as a huge spike of ice shot forward, piercing through the fire with ease and slamming into the unsuspecting Hugo. He heard the other ghost grunt in shock as the ice rammed into him, knocking him flat onto the ground.

Seeing his opportunity, Danny ran forwards towards him, lowering his sword and attempting to use it like a spear to hook the key off of Hugo’s neck. He just barely succeeded in getting his sword through the loop, and was elated that his plan was working, when he suddenly felt his feet disappear out from underneath him. His back hit the ground hard, and he felt all the air leave his lungs in a sharp gasp. Hugo was suddenly on top of him, ripping his sword and shield out of his grasp before he could collect himself again.

“Nice try,” he boasted. “But you can’t beat me that easily. You’ll regret trying to get in my way.” Hugo held his hands out again, and Dany could feel the heat starting to build up before the imminent blast. He struggled to break free, but even if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge the blast in time.

But the blast never actually came. One second, Hugo was just moments away from turning him into a Phantom-shaped crisp, and the next, he was at least 20 feet in the air, entangled in a mass of thick vines that had sprouted from the ground all around them. He squirmed and yelled, but the vines were too thick.

Danny looked around for the source of the vines, and saw Sam off the side, with her hands outstretched towards the trapped ghost. Noticing Danny’s attention, she smirked at him. “I can’t let you have all the fun,” she quipped. “Now go get that key.”

One of the vines shaped itself into a zig-zag pattern, leading all the way up to Hugo. Danny climbed it with ease and was about to grab onto the key. The only warning he got was a large number 16 appearing above Hugo’s head before he finally broke free of the vines. Because Danny was so close, Hugo was easily able to grab Danny’s arm. There was no time to pull away before Danny felt a searing pain rip through his forearm where Hugo was gripping him. 

He heard someone call out to him, and then he saw his armor begin to glow slightly purple. He noticed Jazz in a similar position to Sam earlier, only this time she was holding a long thin wand. “It’ll protect you!” she called up to him.

From the other side of him, Danny spotted another smaller blast of ice shards shoot out from Tucker’s outstretched hand. They were much smaller and less solid than Danny’s ice had been, but they were coming at him just as fast. Danny was able to lean enough that the small ice chunks passed by him, but caught Hugo square in the face, blinding him and causing him to lose his grip on Danny’s arm.

Danny was able to yank himself free, but the momentum from the tug caused him to over balance, and he flailed his arms wildly trying to stay upright. Feeling himself losing that particular battle, he instinctively grabbed at whatever was in front of him. Just his luck, his fingers closed around the large key. He tumbled backward, key in hand, but the leather strap tethering it to the flaming ghost didn’t budge, and so that’s how they fell: Danny first with a deathgrip on the key, followed by a startled yet enraged Hugo, still attached to said key.

Danny quickly calculated the possibility of being able to flip Hugo over his head, so that he landed on the ground first this time.

For the first time in a while, he heard the Ghost Writer’s voice booming out, Give me an acrobatics check .

Danny still didn’t know how they all actually achieved these rolls that the Ghost Writer was asking them to make, but he did his best to tuck his legs in and somersault in the air, pulling Hugo around with him like some twisted midair trebuchet. Just in time too, because Hugh was suddenly hitting the ground at terminal velocity. He gasped, but was allowed no time to recover before Danny landed on him, cannonball-style, still holding onto the key.

“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” Danny feigned sympathy. He was breathing heavily from both exertion and adrenaline. “I think I will actually take this key now.” He moved to pull the key over the head of the still-stunned ghost beneath him, but this seemed to shake him back to reality, and he was suddenly back on Danny again like a wild animal, trying to grab him.

Danny found that his first attempt failed, his hand sliding right over the glowing purple membrane on his armor. He took a second to silently thank his sister before Hugo tried again, this time succeeding. The two ghosts grappled on the ground desperately, both trying to win the upper hand. At one point, Danny thought he felt a brush against his shoulder before he and Hugo rolled away, and suddenly he was landing his blows more often and more easily winning their little contests of strength.

The odds seemed to be turning in his favor, until the fire ghost let out a guttural roar and practically burst into flames. Danny was forced to disengage and roll swiftly away, or else risk being burnt to a crisp. Tucker and Sam are both there immediately to help him stand and return his gear to him, showering him with simultaneous praise for his scrappiness and chastisement for being so reckless. The only downside was the Huge still had the key, and now no one could even get near him.

“I can try to cast Mage Hand to grab it,” Tucker suggested quickly, already forming his hand into the shape of some ward. He pushed his hand away from him and yelled an incoherent word, and suddenly a spectral version of Tucker’s hand was flying towards Hugo.

Tucker was able to maneuver it behind the ghost and pick up the leather strap from behind. In one swift movement, before the ghost even realized, the key was off his neck, and Tucker was frantically ushering the hand back towards him.

“Nooo!” Hugo screamed, lunging for the key, but Danny was suddenly in his way, already with his shield out to block him from the retreating spell. “Give it back!” he growled, and tried to lunge for Danny again.

Sam and Jazz were rushing past him in unison, easily grabbing each of his arms and wrestling him to the ground. He thrashed around, trying to break their hold. They may have both been spellcasters in this new setting, but Sam still led a self-defense class at the school, and Jazz was still Maddie Fenton’s daughter. They subdued him with ease, allowing Danny to get in his finishing blow.

He blasted the flaming ghost with as much icy ectoplasm as he could muster (or was it ectoplasm-y ice?). The ice quickly surrounded and dispersed the flames coming off of the other ghost. Sam and Jazz jumped back just in time as the ice crawled over Hugo’s hands, encasing him fully. It hardened almost instantly, trapping Hugo in an unmeltable block. Hugo’s eyes were angry and pleading at the same time, but Danny didn’t feel bad about trapping him at all.

“Why don’t you chill out for a second?” he joked. Then, more seriously, he added, “I promise, as soon as we’re done with Vlad, I’ll take you so deep into the Ghost Zone and release you like a fish, where you can go nuts to your heart’s content, as long as you stay in the Zone, and out of anyone else’s territory. Sounds fair?”

Hugo couldn’t respond, being trapped in ice as he was, but Danny took this as a yes, and sighed deeply, suddenly feeling the aches and exhaustion from his fight. He turned away from the frozen ghost back to his friends.

Tucker held the third key out to him. “Here, you deserve to hold on to this one.”

Danny took it gratefully, feeling its warmth in his palm, well-deserved.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he tried lightheartedly, but truthfully, he was still recovering from his fall off Sam’s vines

“Do we get post-fight refreshments?” Tucker joked. “Like orange slices and a juice box or something.”

“Oh, I would kill for a Capri-Sun right now,” Samm agreed wistfully

“The Ops Center still has that secret stash of snacks Danny and I snuck out of the kitchen last week,” Jazz supplied helpfully. She swiped a bead of sweat off her forehead. “C’mon, let's regroup and come up with a plan.”

Grateful, they all turned away from the city center and headed back towards where they landed the Ops Center. It looks like most of the fires had been put out, with only the biggest ones remaining. Danny helped a little as they walked, using his ice powers to snub out some of the more stubborn flames.

By the time they reached the Ops Center, they were all ready for a nap. Jazz pulled a basket filled with dried fruits, crackers, and small glass containers of juice. They all helped themselves, and then gathered around the large table that had occupied Jazz’s magical tome earlier. If they wanted to beat Vlad, they would need a strategy.

Chapter Text

Danny, Tucker, Sam, and Jazz all stood around the crudely drawn map of the layout of Vlad’s castle. Eliot the robot was standing motionless behind Tucker. They all agreed that his ugly mansion in Amity Park was probably the most likely place for this secret lab of his to be, since that’s where it had been in the real world. The plan was to send Eliot in first as a sentry and to scout for any traps, and then report back. The entrance to the lab was most likely hidden, so they would split up in groups, with Danny and Sam searching one wing, and Tucker, Jazz, and Eliot searching the other. Danny didn’t like splitting everyone up, but he had to agree that it was the fastest way to find the door to the secret lab. Danny didn’t know what this entrance would look like, or what the keys were for, but he assumed he would probably know it when he saw it, given Vlad’s flair for the dramatic.

“So when we do find this lab,” Jazz was asking. “What do we think is going to be down there?”

“Smithy already told us he was going to try to turn his ghost portal into a phylactery, but I don’t know what that entails.” Danny looked to Tucker for assistance, but his friend just shook his head.

“I don’t know either. I only know some general stuff about D&D, not how lich’s make their little live-forever-boxes.”

“Is that what Vlad is in this setting?” Sam asked. “A lich?”

“He’s probably trying to become a lich,” Tucker amended. “Which would be very bad, especially if he has the full power of the Ghost Zone behind him. Lich’s are, like, super mega powerful. We’re toast if he finishes his ritual in time.”

“Well then, we’d better get moving,” Danny decided. “Everyone ready?” he most definitely didn’t feel ready, not knowing what awaited them, but when was he ever fully prepared for a ghost fight.

Everyone nodded their assent, and Jazz stood from the table to get the Ops Center ready to fly.

“We have to find my parents in there too,” Danny mentioned to his friends quietly. “I’m sure Vlad has them somewhere.”

“We’ll get them, Danny,” Sam assured him. “They’ll be fine.”

The flight to Vlad’s mansion didn’t take very long, and the closer they got, the more anxious Danny became. Did he know they were coming? Were they already too late? He was practically vibrating by the time they touched down some distance from the mansion, behind a small patch of trees.

They unloaded together, checking and rechecking to make sure they had all their gear. Tucker was nervously reorganizing the contents of his bag, Sam was fiddling with the strap of her belt and taking deep breaths to try to center herself, and Jazz was whooshing her wand around, nose deep in a small leather book, practicing her spells. Danny shifted the shoulder guards of his armor so that it fit more comfortably and then made sure his shield was strapped securely to his arm.

They stealthy made their way up behind the imposing building, moving slowly and deliberately. Danny still had a hard time being quiet in his full set of armor, and they paused every time he made a particularly loud clatter to listen for any sign that someone had spotted them. Thankfully (or suspiciously) they were met with no resistance as they finally reached the large double doors leading into the back of the mansion. There was a wide, dirt path lined with thick shrubs leading up to the doors. The four humans ducked behind them to stay out of view of the castle, and Tucker instructed Eliot to attempt to break in and scout around. 

So far, so good, Danny thought.

They all held their breath as they watched the robot approach the door and pull out a set of lock picks. Eliot made quick work of the door, and opened it immediately.

Danny flinched instinctively, remembering the crossbow trap from Smithy’s tower and trying not to think of what horrors awaited them here. Luckily (or suspiciously, again), there was no trap on the other side of the door, and Eliot just walked right in. Danny could see him as he turned and stalked past one of the windows.

His knees were just starting to get sore from crouching for so long when Eliot finally returned, walking right out of the door, as casual as can be.

“The target area is now safe to enter,” the robot reported. “No hostiles encountered. All traps neutralized.”

“Anyone feel like this is a little too easy?” Sam asked the question everyone was thinking.

“Maybe he’s just not home right now,” Tucker said hopefully.

“Does that mean we can go search for the lab?” Jazz asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Let’s go in.”

They all left their places from behind the shrubbery and cautiously made their way up to the door. Danny held his shield in front of him as an added precaution as he stepped through the doorway. Vlad’s mansion was over-the-top on a normal day, but now that it had been transformed into this enormous dramatic castle, it was somehow even worse. The ceilings were at least 30 feet high, with  enormous, ornate chandeliers hung at regular intervals. There was a lot of strange and varied art in the form of paintings and statues everywhere you looked; a lot of it was of Vlad himself (Danny snickered too himself), but he definitely spotted at least two paintings and one bust that looked eerily similar to his mom (gross).

Just as they remembered from being in Vlad’s mansion before, in the real world, they had entered into a large back foyer that cut straight through to the front of the house. They were looking at the back of two sloping staircases, and to either side, on both the ground floor and second floor, the mansion extended into two separate wings.

They agreed to meet back in this main area in 30 minutes, and then finally split up. Danny and Sam took  the left, and Tucker, Jazz, and Eliot went right. The long hallway leading to the left wing had no doors, and so Danny and Sam were able to quickly make their way  through it. It opened into a smaller sitting area, complete with a fireplace surrounded on both sides by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a huge, expensive-looking couch, and a grand piano. There were two large doorways out of this room and into the rest of the wing, forming a ‘T’ with the hallway that Danny and Sam had come through. 

They obviously made a bee-line to the books first, since they were the most obvious choice to disguise the switch to open up a secret passage. When that didn’t work, they tried many combinations of pressing keys on the piano, with similar success. They did another thorough search of the room before determining that the entrance wasn’t in here.

They made their way through the rest of the wing with similar luck. They searched empty bedrooms, a huge bathroom with a tub sunk into the floor, various storage rooms, a full library, and even a small room, tucked away and mostly hidden, that when they swung open the door, revealed the biggest collection of tacky green and yellow Green Bay Packers merchandise Danny had ever seen. How did this of all things, make it through the transformation unchanged? The Ghost Writer had a good sense of humor; Danny had to give him that. He and Sam had to hold back laughter as they shut the door on the embarrassing room. It was unfortunately the last room they had to check, so they started making their way back to the main foyer. Hopefully Jazz and Tucker had more luck than them.

Right on time, Tucker came rushing back through the opposite wing, panting slightly. “We found it!” he told them. “Come quick; Eliot is holding the door open.”

Danny and Sam followed Tucker back into the other wing. They were led into a literally bare room, with no furniture or even junk for storage. Completely empty. At the center of the room, Eliot stood, straining to support the weight of an enormous trap door on the floor, with Jazz beside him, peering down at what it revealed. A winding staircase disappeared somewhere below, and after approaching it, Danny could see faint light coming from something at the bottom.

“How did you find this?” Danny asked, noting the lack of anything that could even be considered a clue in this room.

Tucker looked just as bewildered as he was. “I don’t know. All I know is that out of the blue, Eliot just waltzed right in here with a purpose, and straight up just lifted the entire floor up.”

“I was tasked with searching for traps and hidden objects.” Eliot defended himself, monotone voice somehow still sounding indignant. “It was easy to spot.”

“Well, thanks. You made my job much easier,” Tucker told him. He approached the staircase next to Danny. “So… Want to go first?” he suggested.

Danny glanced at all of them in confirmation, and after seeing that they were all ready to go, he let his ghostly transformation wash over him, held his shield out in front of him and started to descend. Once they were all on the stairs, Eliot was the last to follow behind him, dropping the trap door behind him, sealing off the light from above. 

The bottom of the staircase opened up into a large stone room, filled with similar equipment and clutter to Danny’s parents’ lab. Danny barely noticed any of that, instead immediately focused on the figure standing imposingly at the opposite side of the room. They were dressed head to toe in gleaming red armor that obscured their face. A long and imposing sword the same color as their armor was slung casually over their shoulder, and they stood facing the group, as if expecting them to show up. The figure slowly lowered their sword, pointing it at Danny’s chest in challenge. Behind the mysterious red knight was a large circular door with three obvious holes, very clearly made for a certain set of three keys. Oh yeah, they were definitely in the right place.

“Step aside,” Danny warned. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The knight in response, barked out a harsh laugh.. “Who says you’re doing the hurting?” Their voice was distorted and layered slightly, as if multiple people were actually talking at once. “I cannot let you through this door.” 

The knight sliced their sword across their arm guard, causing sparks to jump up and tumble to the floor. Where the sparks hit the ground, suddenly there were 5 ghosts rising up out of the floor. Two of them held bows, two wielded swords, and the other hoisted a dangerous looking mace.

“Come at me!” yelled the knight. They were suddenly across the room in an instant, along with their ghost companions. Danny was able to parry the knight’s powerful blow with his own sword, but not without getting grazed across his left cheek by its razor-sharp tip.

He heard Jazz cry out a spell behind him, but had no time to see what it was before the knight was pulling back and swinging again. This time, their blade caught his in a flash of sparks. They pushed against one another both trying to overpower the other.

The ghosts that the knight had summoned had rushed right past Danny and towards his friends. He could hear, but not see, the chaos that was happening behind him. Words were being yelled, spells were being flung and one point Danny thought he heard Tucker’s gun go off. He barely had any time to think about that, as it took all his focus to keep up with the knight in red armor.

They traded blow after blow, Danny sometimes being able to stun the knight with his shield and land a damaging swipe, only for the knight to return it twice as hard. It seemed that for every one of his attacks, the knight was able to get in two.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the five ghosts get hit with a volley of glowing, magical missiles and disappear in a cloud of smoke. One down. Unfortunately, that was enough to distract him, and the red knight slammed the butt of their sword into his head and immediately body-slammed him to the ground while he was still seeing stars. His sword left his hand as he fell, and he had to use his shield to redirect the immediate blow aimed straight for his chest.

Two more of the ghostly fighters were dispatched simultaneously. One with a loud shot from Tucker’s gun, and the other to a large ghostly hawk that materialized over Sam’s shoulder and immediately dove for the unsuspecting ghost, distracting it while Jazz blasted it with a different spell.

Just three more enemies to go: two ghosts and this mysterious knight. Said knight cried out in anger at seeing two more of her companions get beat. Danny took this opportunity to try to gain the upper hand. Just as he had done to his shield during their fight with Hugo, he channeled all his energy into his sword, watching as the edges sparkled with frost. He then swung it in a large arc above him, catching the knight in the chest and causing them to stumble back. In a flash, Danny was back on his feet. He tried to use the knight’s momentary disorientation to his advantage, but they were quick to recover as well, blocking his next attack.

Danny then attempted to disarm the knight by swirling his blade around theirs and flicking it to the side. At first this seemed to succeed, with the knight letting go of their sword immediately and watching it sail to the side and clatter on the floor. Danny wasn’t allowed to relish in his triumph, as in the next second, the sword disappeared in a puff of greed mist and reappeared in the knight’s awaiting hand.

“How come you get to do that?” he yelled, incredulous. “You’ll have to teach me after we defeat Vlad.”

“You won’t be getting anywhere near him so long as I’m alive,” the knight warned, swinging at Danny once again.

“You shouldn’t lie, you know,” Danny replied. “It’s not a good look.” He swiped up with his sword, taking the knight’s with it and leaving their chest exposed. He immediately slammed his shield into them, knocking them backwards. A vine suddenly sprung up from the rocky earth (thanks, Sam), and the knight tripped backwards and sprawled on the floor.

The knight’s helmet tumbled off their head, and all the fight left Danny as he saw just who it was. “Valerie?” he questioned loudly.

Valerie Gray was slow to sit up, swaying slightly and holding her head. She groaned. “Ugh, what happened?” she asked in a pained voice. It no longer had that layered quality, and she sounded completely normal. Finally looking up, she first noticed the lab, and then the last of the two ghosts being destroyed with some good communication and a brilliant use of tag-teaming from Sam and Tucker. 

“Where am I?” she asked herself. That was when she noticed Danny for the first time, standing over her, stunned. Her eyes hardened.

“Phantom.” she said darkly. Valerie stood quickly, taking a defensive stance. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything, I swear! We’re just trying to help!” He gestured at his friends behind him. “You seriously don’t remember the fight we just had?”

“No!” Valerie yelled. “The last thing I remember was being at home doing school work, and then I was just here.” She pressed her hand to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut. “I swear I heard a voice telling me what to do. I couldn’t resist it.” She threw her hands up. “And now you’re standing here pointing a sword at me! Tell me what’s going on, or I’ll fight you for real this time!” She bent her knees and pointed her sword menacingly at Danny again, ready to jump at a moment's notice.

“It’s a long story-”

“Tell me everything. I have time,” she warned.

“Fine, but you won’t believe me,” Danny huffed in frustration. “Vlad Plasmius, who is right behind that door-” He gestured behind Valerie, but she didn’t look, holding eye contact with him the whole time. “- is literally in the middle of performing a ritual that will make him the most powerful ghost to ever exist. It sounds like he mind-controlled you somehow to get you to guard this door. I’m here with some back up to stop him.”

Valerie's eyes narrowed. “That’s not all,” she said. Damn, she was sharp.

“It’s harder to explain after that. This whole world as it exists now isn’t real. It was all created by the Ghost Writer in order to enable Vlad to get what he wants. We’re all in the middle of a fantasy role-playing game. If we stop Vlad, we also return the world back to normal.”

Valerie was silent for a minute, never shifting out of her attack stance. “I don’t believe you,” she finally said.

“I told you so,” Danny deadpanned.

“At least not the second part. I’ve accepted that you’re just going to lie to me - that’s what ghosts do, but if Vlad is really behind that door, what is he doing?”

“He’s making a phylactery,” Tucker finally spoke up.

Valerie suddenly seemed to notice the other people in the room. “Sam? Tucker? Jazz? What are you doing here with him ?” She gestured in disgust at Danny. “And where is Danny?” She scanned the room quickly, looking for someone who was right in front of her.

“He’s, uh… Manning the Ops Center outside?” Danny said weakly.

“Why are you helping a ghost?” Valerie questioned again.

“Because he’s telling the truth,” Jazz answered. “Please believe us. I know ghosts more than anyone thanks to my parents, and I know Phantom is a good one. If you can’t believe him, at least believe me. We could really use your help to defeat Vlad. I know you hate him too, so what do you say to a temporary truce? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’, and all that?”

A glowing number 17 appeared above Jazz’ head, and Valerie looked to be considering her offer. “I’ll let you open this door,” she conceded slowly. “But if there’s any funny business-” She shot a deadly glare at Danny. “I won’t hesitate to take you out. Got it?”

Danny nodded. “Scout’s honor,” he replied.

Satisfied, but no less wary, Valerie stepped to the side, to let them pass.

Danny and Sam both pulled their respective keys out from where they’d been hanging them, and Tucker made his way over to Eliot, who had ectoplasm from the battle splattered on his face, and extracted his key from the robot’s arm. The three of them approached the door, taking in all the details. The three keyholes were spaced apart in such a way that no one person could turn them all at the same time. Small pictures above each hole indicated which key went where: a small wave, a wrench, and a lick of flame. After positioning themselves at their respective keyholes, Danny signaled for them to insert and turn their keys in unison. The door gave a reverberating click, and suddenly it was swinging inward.

Danny could not have expected what he saw on the other side.

A swirling green ghost portal was open on the other side of the room, in much the same way that his parents’ had been. The runes holding this one open seemed less clean, and there were clear marks of old chalk where whoever had made this portal had erased incorrect marks. The light coming from the portal was almost blinding, and instead of one single uniform swirl, there were multiple, spinning in opposite directions. It seemed occasionally to try to readjust itself and go back to normal, but it was immediately snapped back into its unstable state with a harsh word from the figure on the floor.

This figure was none other than Vlad Plasmius, but he looked like a Vlad Plasmius that had been dragged through the mud and then used as a dishrag. From behind, Danny could see that his hair was disheveled and his long robe was wrinkled, the collar dropping unevenly.

When they entered the room, Valerie let out an involuntary gasp, and Vlad immediately stopped his chanting. It took him a moment to turn around and face them, but when he did Danny could see just how serious his condition was. Vlad’s eyes looked crazed, and held none of the sinister intelligence that he was used to.

“Ah, how unfortunate.” His voice was just as smooth and as condescending as usual. “I see my spell wasn’t strong enough to keep young Valerie in line,” he mused. “Nonetheless, as you can see, I’m in the middle of a very important ritual, and it’s imperative that you don’t interrupt me again.”

He started turning back towards the portal, but Danny took a step forward. “There’s no way in hell, we’re going to let you finish that spell, Vlad!” he warned.

Vlad laughed heartily. “Oh, Daniel, that’s where you’re mistaken.” He was suddenly grinning at them like a maniac, sharp teeth glinting in the green light. “You are going to let me finish, unless you want to be responsible for killing poor Jack and Maddie Fenton here.” He gestured off to his right, where, being lowered to the floor in a large cage, stood Danny’s parents.

Jack was still looking around in confusion, but Maddie locked on to Vlad instantly. If looks could kill, this campaign would be over already. “What are you planning on doing with us, ghost?” she demanded, gripping the bars of the cage.

“Mmm, it’s not about what I’m going to do with you,” Vlad replied easily. “It’s about what he’s going to do to you.” Vlad gestured back at Danny, and then addressed him directly. “If you try to get near me in any way,” he explained, “the poor Fentons are in for quite a shock!”

To demonstrate what he meant, he waved his hand at the cage, and it immediately erupted in chaotic bolts of electricity. Danny’s parent’s cried out in pain, and then the electricity disappeared as soon as it started.

“You see, Daniel, you really don’t have a choice, so why don’t you let me work in peace.” He chucked to himself, and then turned back around to the Ghost Portal, placing his hands on it and immediately beginning his chant again. The portal resumed its unnatural swirling.

Danny’s heart was racing; he could barely think. He could feel the pain of his Obsession clawing at his core, so close to making him lose control. How dare he threaten his family like that. How dare he hurt his family like that. He was without thought as he took one step, and then another, and then was breaking out into a full sprint at Vlad’s back. He suddenly was stopped dead in his tracks by some invisible force.

Good try, my boy,” Vlad interrupted his chanting to say. “Why don’t you play with these for a while, since you seem so eager for a fight!” With a wave of his hand, suddenly a horde of ghosts came tumbling out of the portal. Each more mean looking than the last.

They raced towards Danny and his friends. They reached him first, since he was closest to the portal, and swarmed him like ants, swinging their weapons and kicking with their feet. He was easily overwhelmed, only able to dodge or block a few of the blows before he was entirely outnumbered. 

He fought with all he had, but wasn’t in a good enough position to do anything significant. One of the ghosts kicked in his knee from the side, causing him to cry out in pain and fall to his knees, where the attacks just kept getting worse. He could hear more fighting around him, but it took all he had to keep the ghosts from absolutely beating him senseless. He was curled on the ground in the fetal position, and so didn’t notice that the number of ghosts around him had thinned considerably until he opened his eyes and saw someone reach their hand through the throng to help him up. Danny took it immediately, and the hand yanked him out of the eye of the storm.

To his surprise, his hand was clasped tightly in Valerie’s. As soon as he was standing again, she dropped his hand like it was a hot pan. “What Plasmius is doing is clearly wrong,” she tried to explain. “I’m calling a temporary truce for now, so that we can save the Fentons. After that, I’m hunting you down again like the monster you are.” 

Danny couldn’t think of anything to say, still overwhelmed with the weight of his Obsession and also maybe a kick or two to the head. Valerie rolled her eyes.

“Besides,” she said with a smirk. “I bet I can get more of them than you.”

Danny smirked back. “You’re on.”

Between the five of them (plus Eliot) they stood a better chance at defeating these ghosts, now that they were all working together. They were all in perfect harmony, with spells being cast at just the right moment to heal an ally or harm an enemy, and Danny and Valerie sweeping through ghosts like butter. Each ghost that disintegrated at the tip of their sword was called out, so they could keep track of their respective kill counts.

The only problem was that the ghosts just kept coming. Even with all the damage they were doing with their swords and spells, there was just a never ending stream.

“They’re never going to stop!” Tucker yelled in Danny’s ear, as they stood back to back, holding off ghost after ghost that tried to get to each of them. “We have to keep Vlad from summoning more of them!”

That was going to be difficult, seeing as any time he had gotten close to Vlad in this fight, even by accident the cage with his parents would light up with electricity.

“How do we do that?” Danny yelled back.

“Maybe I can send Eliot in!” Tucker suggested. He called out to the battle robot, who had just finished smashing the heads of two ghosts together, watching them disintegrate in his hands. “Go turn off the portal!” 

It was a silly, yet effective request, as this portal also had the equivalent of an on/off switch drawn in runes next to it, just like the portal at FentonWorks. Eliot’s lights flashed green, and he went to do just that. Vlad’s eyes were closed in concentration, and he didn’t see the robot until it was too late. Eliot ripped the paper with the stabilizing rune off the wall, and the portal immediately closed with a whoosh of air.

“Noo!” Vlad cried, turning his full wrath on poor Eliot.

In a flash, there was a basketball-sized hole ripped straight through Eliot’s chest. The robot’s eyes flashed once before dimming altogether.

“Noo!” Tucker yelled, in a copy of Vlad’s outrage, as Eliot’s now lifeless body toppled unceremoniously to the floor. “You’ll pay for that!” Pure anger emanated from his voice.

Vlad growled, finally taking in the carnage behind him. Noticing that his ghosts seemed to be losing, and that the portal was closed and not producing more, he said. “When you want it done right, you have to do it for yourself.”

At that, he yelled in a guttural voice and thrusted his hands forward in a pushing motion, before balling them into fists. A small pin prick of light began to appear just in front of Danny’s chest.

Tucker gasped when he saw it. “Run!” he called, and dove to the side.

All Danny had time to do was turn and jump, as the small dot of light suddenly erupted into a massive fireball. He felt white hot pain scorch his back, and he cried out before hitting the floor. He could hear Vlad laughing behind him, before he was grappled by two ghosts and hoisted up. He struggled to free himself, as the ghosts started dragging him towards Vlad and the portal. He saw the first small warning spark of electricity shoot between two bars in the cage.

“What is with the fire today?” he said weakly. “Everybody’s into the fire now. I think ice is much better.” He tugged at the ice in his core, and blasted it out in a sudden wave, flash-freezing the two ghosts next to him. He yanked his arms free from their grip.

“Danny!” Sam called from behind him. He looked to where her voice came from, just in time to see her toss his sword at him. He caught it with grace, and immediately turned his focus on Vlad again, ignoring the burning in his back. His sword glowed with a mix of purple and green. Jazz and Tucker must have enchanted it somehow. It felt lighter and easier to swing. He smiled, ready to face off against the crazy Fruit Loop, who was acting more crazy than normal.

They shared no words before they were on each other; Vlad too enraged, and Danny in too much pain. Danny tried to get in close, but Vlad kept dodging and getting away, blasting him with some spell or another each time. He was starting to feel the extent of his injuries, and his movements were getting sluggish. He managed to hit Vlad several times, enough to do significant damage, but he feared that he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

Just as he was starting to despair, something happened that Vlad did not expect. From behind, as he was focused on Danny, another sword came into view - a red one, held by a knight in red armor. Valerie swiftly sliced upwards on Vlad’s back, letting out a an angry roar as her blade connected with skin

Vlad arched back and cried out in pain, and then all of a sudden stopped moving. Danny could see his muscles in his neck bulging as he struggled to break out of whatever magic was holding him in place. 

“Hurry up and do something!” Sam called out from behind him. “I can’t hold him forever!”

Thinking quickly, Danny called out. “Jazz! Open the portal again!”

Jazz immediately sprung into action, dodging past the remaining ghosts to reach the portal. She picked up the discarded paper from Eliot’s hand and stuck it to the wall again, activating the portal in a whoosh of sound.

With all the strength and energy, Danny could muster, he pulled his sword back behind his head. He could feel it growing brighter as it absorbed his ectoplasm. Vlad’s eyes went wide when he saw the white flames curling from the sword’s edge. Danny smirked at him. “I think you need a time out to think about what you’ve done,” he quipped, and then with all his strength swung his sword like a baseball bat at Vlad’s chest. The ectoplasm stored in its blade exploded outward, pushing Vlad backwards with enough force to send him sailing through the portal and into the Ghost Zone. 

The remaining ghosts, seeing their leader now defeated, retreated back into the portal as well, and Jazz quickly closed it back up when the last one dove through the vortex.

Danny immediately collapsed to his knees, completely exhausted. Whatever magic was keeping the cage locked seemed to disappear, as the bars fell outward, and his parents were finally free. Seeing his parents safe, made him smile, and he closed his eyes, just wanting to rest for a second. He could feel the world tilt slightly, before someone’s hands were gripping his shoulders and guiding him to the floor on his side, mindful of the injury on his back.

“Stay with me, Danny,” Sam was saying above him. “Oh god, please work,” she said desperately to herself. Danny felt her hand press lightly to his back, and then a warmth was spreading out from his fingertips. It soothed and healed over the worst of his burns, and he sighed in relief, finally being able to breathe. She held his head in her lap, and he felt like he could just never get up.

Nevertheless, it was a herculean effort to open his eyes when he heard everyone gasp. All around them, the stone walls and magical equipment were fading away, replaced with the more modern white walls and technology that they were used to seeing in Vlad’s lab. The runes of the Ghost Portal turned back into the usual metal frame, and as Danny watched, everyone’s themed outfits disappeared, leaving them all in their usual jeans and tshirt. Danny’s armor faded into the familiar black and white jumpsuit that he wore in his ghost form. Only Valerie’s outfit remained relatively the same. Her red armor transformed back into her red ghost-fighting suit.

As the Ghost Writer’s magic faded, everyone’s memories seemed to come back, as well. His dad yelled “Ghosts! I knew something was fishy!” 

Valerie was looking around her in bewilderment, now realizing that what he had told her was true. Jazz blinked several times, absorbing all the changes.

Congratulations! Called the Ghost Writer’s voice with a loud echo. You’ve completed the campaign to stop Plasmius’ evil scheme and saved Amity Park and the Ghost Zone! A burst of confetti rained down onto the floor from seemingly nowhere. You may now go back to your regularly scheduled lives! There was one last manic giggle from the Ghost Writer before his voice faded back out of reality. 

Danny could no longer feel his lingering presence in the back of his mind. It was finally over.

“What just happened?” Maddie Fenton asked angrily. “Phantom, I know you were a part of this somehow.” She took stock of the people in the room, noting the absence of a particular dark-haired scrawny young man. “Where’s my son?”

Danny laughed tiredly and smiled. “I guess I have a lot of explaining to do.”

FIN

For now…

Chapter Text

Vlad fumed in his cell, as the ghost across from him pleaded with him again. “Please, Vlad, just one game! I promise I’ll make it quick.” The Ghost Writer smiled innocently at him.

They were both in maximum security cells in Walker’s prison, neither of them able to see each other, but Vlad knew he was smiling all the same.

“It won’t be like last time, I swear! I don’t even have a keyboard, now!”

Still, Vlad was silent.

“I’ll just tell the story again and again until you ask me for something new,” the Ghost Writer warned.

…

“Fine, I gave you your chance.” The Ghost Writer cleared his throat and then began his story:

“The Ghost Writer was in prison for breaking the Holiday Truce. Was it his proudest moment? Looking back on it, not really…”