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“Ugh,” Todd groaned as he leaned back on his seat, resting his legs on the stool’s footrest. “We’ve been waiting for almost five hours. Can’t your dad just break down a wall or something?”
“He's busy with the whole invasion thing, you know.” Danny crossed his arms. He sat at the back of the room, huddled around a table with Sam and Tucker.
“I'm tired!” Star rolled her eyes, glancing up from her phone. The screen flashed with glitched-out static, but she just kept tapping at it with her long nails. “Shouldn’t Phantom be here by now? I’m so ready to go home and never hear all that howling ever again.”
The blonde cheerleader stared daggers at the classroom’s barred front door. The irritatingly loud echoes—something like a wind through a gap in the wall mixed with the static of a television screen—were the only things they could hear for the past two class periods.
Mr. Lancer’s sophomore class gasped when the ghost alarm rang with red lights blaring. They were locked in the science laboratory, one of the only rooms in the middle of the building with no access to any windows. The entrance, the only exit, was bolted down by a thick, ecto-proofed iron gate, a protective measure against any large-scale invasions—ghosts or otherwise.
In most ghost attacks, the specters usually have one set objective. If Lancer remembered correctly from the school's last-minute specialized training, these goals are based on what the Fentons called a “purpose” or “obsession,” like fixing the lunch menu or hunting down children for their skin. It was terrifying and disturbing enough, but they got used to it after months of chaos and despair. Phantom would defeat the ghost, and the other ghost hunters would deal with the remaining issues… including trying to capture Phantom. That was a typical Tuesday at Casper High. Everything would remain the same, despite the occasional new monster-shaped hole in the wall.
The defense system had been extraordinarily helpful in decreasing property damage and keeping the students of Casper High safe during fights. The new system could fix any problem.
This time, the defense system was the problem.
There was barely any time for the ghost alarm to ring when an avalanche of ghosts invaded the school. They phased through the walls with weapons and armor, chanting in cult-like worship of a much more powerful ghost. Lancer didn't get the chance to see it, but its deep voice echoed all over campus with a booming laugh.
The barricades immediately flew down, locking the classrooms to keep the students supposedly safe. They relaxed after that and, though most students rambled about wanting to see the fight, Mr. Lancer convinced them to just go back to their worksheets until the ghosts were defeated.
And then the ghost shield turned on.
Those ghost armies didn't attempt to leave. They hadn't tried to fight anyone or destroy property or take over the world. The defense system was now keeping both ghosts and humans locked in the school, and neither could interact with the other.
This was nothing like any ghost attack they had witnessed. This was strategic. It felt more personal.
The outside world—Mayor Masters, APPD, the Fentons—were trying to open the gates to let people leave safely without releasing the ghosts that marched along the halls like soldiers on patrol.
Lancer hoped they were trying, at least. He had no clue.
“Phantom will for sure show up soon! Then we’ll all get out of this shit.”
“Language, Mr. Baxter,” Mr. Lancer scolded, sending the quarterback a glare.
Dash was an interesting student. He was a brute, and no matter how many anger management classes he went to, nothing seemed to calm down his temper. Of course, his home life wasn’t the easiest, but that was one of the many things Dash was used to hiding. Casper High was ruled by the typical high school hierarchy, and Lancer hoped they’d grow out of those basic stereotypes someday. He would do anything he could to help achieve that.
One thing that Dash never hid, however, was his avid support for the local ghost hero.
“The ghost shield is up to stop ghosts from leaving and entering,” Valerie jumped in. “So Phantom literally can’t. And it’s not like he’d be any help either way.”
Valerie, on the other hand, quickly became an enticing force in any controversial class discussions. She was clearly opposed to all ghosts—understandably, after the story Lancer heard back in freshman year.
“Phantom could easily beat those guys.”
“Oh, please. There are way too many monsters out there. Not even the Red Huntress could defeat all of them alone, so that ghost playing hero definitely can’t.”
Paulina cut her off with a gasp. “Phantom is way stronger than the Red—”
“Settle down, class.” He pressed his fingers up against the bridge of his nose. Maybe the headache would go away. “There is unfortunately no way in or out. These defenses are here to protect us while the experts figure out what exactly happened, and what ghost is keeping us here. It is—”
There was a sudden bang against the classroom’s front door as something heavy slammed against it, getting zapped with a shock of electricity. Some students shrieked at the loud noise, but most were already used to the jump scares.
“—difficult to be calm in times like these, but we have been through worse. All I ask for is some peace and quiet while we wait.”
“This SUCKS!” Todd yelled into his backpack to muffle the noise of his frustration, and Kwan offered two comforting pats on his shoulder.
“Does anyone have Jenga? Uno?”
“We were playing Patience earlier.” Mikey held up a pack of black and red cards in his hand, adjusting his glasses, “But we got impatient.” Kyle nodded in agreement.
“Never have I ever?” Tiffanie suggested, leaning her face on her hands. Her close friend group—Ashley and Brittany, always doing projects together—rolled their eyes in complaint.
“Girl. We did that last night. At some point, you run out of nevers.”
“Do we still have no signal?”
Star turned her glitchy phone screen towards Ashley and nodded, frustrated. The trio groaned in response.
Mr. Lancer knew he had no grip on the situation, and it was exasperating for everyone. It was far from what they were used to. The longer he stared at the math worksheets he was correcting for extra credit, the faster the words started to float off the page, the words and numbers incomprehensible. The repetition was almost numbing, but he was running out of his stale coffee and wanted to get this done while he had the opportunity. His eyes ran over the pages a second time to search for any mistakes, but boredom and worry were both fighting for control of his mind. Anxiety was no help, either. He couldn’t focus.
A few minutes had passed when Lancer glanced up again, as Nathan picked up his backpack and loudly dropped it on the table.
He unzipped the main opening and fiddled with his notebooks before searching through every pocket, even flipping over some of their contents on the lab table. His friends sitting by him frowned, their concern evident in their clenched jaws. As the class slowly turned to him, his actions got more careless and rapid.
Nathan had realized something, and everyone was nervously waiting for the shoe to drop.
“Does anyone have…” Nathan ran his hand through his hair. “Food?”
It took a few seconds for everyone to process what he was saying—and chaos followed with an explosion of side conversations and panicked hands digging through bags. This is exactly the type of anxiety Lancer was desperately trying to avoid.
“I don’t have anything…”
“Nope.”
“Nothing here.”
“Why would you mention that?” Brittany flopped onto the table, folding her arms over her head. It reminded Lancer of how much she had enjoyed the Shakespeare unit. She looked up at Nathan, annoyed. “Great. Now you reminded me that I’m hungry. I missed lunch today…”
“We won’t be here long enough to starve,” Kwan argued. “We really don’t have to worry about that yet.”
“Mr. Jae-Hyung is right, class. There is no need to exaggerate.” Mr. Lancer sighed. “We have enough worries as is.”
“Yeah,” Valerie grunted, fiddling with her red watch. “You folks are just dramatic.”
“Well, Val, what if we do starve?” Todd complained, dramatically. “And what about going to the bathroom?”
The question made the more popular girls let out a collective ewwww. Paulina covered her mouth with her hand, “Don’t be gross, Todd. Nobody wants to think about that.”
“Doesn’t Danny have stomach problems or something? What if he has to run off to the bathroom like always?”
Todd pointed at Danny, who was clearly not paying attention to the conversation.
The room fell quiet, all eyes darting towards the trio. Sam clicked her pen over the sheet of paper they were writing on, muttering something to Tucker, who fiddled with his P.D.A. In the sudden silence, they were able to overhear the group’s whispered conversation.
“We’d still need to time everything right. The principal’s office is on the other side of campus.” Sam drew a line on the paper.
“I can run fast,” Tucker quipped.
“Not that fast." Danny smiled at the joke but quickly snapped back to a serious tone.
Mr. Lancer had never seen Danny that concentrated. Though his leg bounced up and down on his lab stool, his eyes were cutting sharp. His hand tightly held his chin in thought, grim and alert. He opened his chest, his shoulders broad and wide despite his small stature. It barely looked like he was breathing.
This was a much, much different image than the curled-up, tired student Lancer spent the last two years trying to teach. Danny was introverted and often missed class, and even though his grades had been improving that past semester, there was always something off-putting about him. Something was wrong, but the whole town was aware of his home life, his sister seemed perfectly capable of handling herself, and he was happy enough around his friends. Danny was a separate case, Lancer knew, but he had no idea how to reach out.
He tried. He tried several times in those past years, but nothing seemed to fit the bill for what Danny needed. All that Lancer wanted was to see him as his true self, without whatever invisible weight pressed down on his shoulders.
Mr. Lancer realized that this was the closest he would ever get to seeing that.
“It’s best to stick to the middle hallway and split at the intersection,” Danny suggested, the sound of his pointed finger wrinkling the paper echoing around the classroom. “Even if we wing it—"
“You probably will.” Sam cut him off, raising an eyebrow.
Danny only stared at her for a few moments in annoyance. “Even when we wing it,” he continued. “We gotta have some backup. The main shield is in the gym, so—”
Dash stood up from his seat. “What the hell are you guys scheming?”
Mr. Lancer opened his mouth to correct Dash for his language again, but the words barely got to leave his mouth before fading back into a whisper. There was an unsettling energy circling the room, and Lancer suddenly felt like he was stuck as a background character, watching a plot twist unfold but unable to change anything if he chose to intervene. The situation was weird, honestly, and the way Danny carried himself was even weirder.
Danny quietly stared at Dash, unmoving.
He then turned to Tucker, tilting his head to the right and glancing at the door. Tucker nodded. Danny then turned to Sam, knitting his eyebrows with a pout. She also nodded.
Mr. Lancer saw literal ghosts every day in the past few years, and somehow, three of his students having a completely silent conversation by sending signals was one of the most uncanny things he had ever seen.
“Dash,” Danny grinned with an unfamiliar mischief, leaning over the table. “Do you still remember how to use a bō staff?”
“Mr. Fenton,” Lancer frowned. “What do you—?”
“Oh, absolutely not!” Todd stood from his seat, throwing his arms up into the air. “I am NOT doing this again!”
“Mr. Perkins, you—”
“Just because your last mission went great doesn’t mean I want to repeat it. It was cool, but it was still terrifying!”
The class mumbled in agreement. Lancer had no context for the situation, but it was evident that something had happened—he could tell from the students’ stiff shoulders and widened eyes. The class gasped as memories seemed to wash over them.
The class sparked with chatter as students turned to whoever sat near their tables to recount lost stories.
Mr. Lancer locked eyes with Valerie, who seemed to be just as confused as he was.
“Wait, what?” She tugged on the jacket of whoever was closest, her voice thundering above the others. “What are you guys talking about?”
After a pause, Ashley moved her arm away from Valerie and turned to Mr. Lancer. She must have noticed how lost he was. “A while ago, some ghosts kidnapped all the adults in Amity Park. Those three,” she pointed at the trio in the back, “made a plan to fight the ghosts and save everyone. It worked, surprisingly.”
“When?” Valerie gasped, “When did this happen?”
“Oh, it’s been ages… Like, November of freshman year?”
“You weren’t in town. You were still setting up your place in Elmerton,” Star added.
“Oh.” Valerie frowned, and you could almost see the loading screen in her mind, connecting the dots. Her eyes met Danny’s, asking for an explanation, but he just pressed his lips together and looked away. Lancer knew that those two had some unresolved issues.
This was… surprising news.
He could not be more grateful for his students saving his life, but to put themselves in danger like that was beyond irresponsible. Danny lived with his parents, which in itself was a dangerous position to be in, but he must have been taught something or another about fighting ghosts when necessary. Other students had no preparation, and it was almost absurd to imagine them in battle. They were children. They should never put themselves in such a threatening position, with or without training. They were just too young, and they were already traumatized enough by living in Amity Park.
For Danny, though, the situation was even more confusing. This was a student Lancer knew was terrified of ghosts, rightfully running away from every ghost fight for the past two years. To see him, someone always in the shadows, finally taking the lead with his classmates against an army of ghosts, was… It was impressive, really.
Lancer felt a bit ashamed of his double standards. He was a teacher, and he knew how wrong this entire situation was. He knew neither Danny nor anyone else should be throwing themselves into battles with powerful supernatural eldritch entities. Nonetheless, there was a small, tiny, minuscule part of him that couldn’t help but be incredibly proud.
This was still absurd, though.
Dash scoffed. “The last time you made one of your plans, you bailed on us! I’m not gonna be ordered around by a coward.”
“I promise I won’t run away.” The defiance and annoyance were clear in Danny’s voice—a voice that barely sounded like his. It was much louder, and much more powerful. “Sam, Tucker, and I are going out there. When we open that door, the ghosts will be able to come in here. The chem lab won’t be protected anymore, and whoever stays behind will be defenseless. We all have to leave together.”
Todd crossed his arms over his chest. “No way. Have you seen how many ghosts are strolling around? If we die out there, we’ll come back to haunt you and kill you too.”
“Do you wanna just sit around and wait until Phantom magically goes through the ghost shield? Or do you prefer waiting for the Guys In White?”
No response.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
The three jumped out of their stools and spread across the lab, settling down on different lab tables. Danny took the sheet to the center of the room, Sam stationed herself near the back wall with all of their backpacks, and Tucker sat right across from Lancer with his P.D.A.
“There’s gonna be a fight, and it’ll be a big one.” Danny started, stretching the piece of paper over the table. Kwan, Todd, and some of the girls huddled around it, finally able to see a very detailed recreation of Casper High’s blueprints. The map was surprisingly well-made, and its hallways and doors were covered in red circles and arrows. Along the center hallway, one large circle had two arrows: one pointing to the principal’s office, marked with a star, and one pointing to the gym, with an angry face drawn in the middle.
“Y’all remember how to shoot an ecto-gun, right?”
“Your parents don’t let us forget.” Kwan tensed at the proposed idea, but something sparkled in his eyes. Lancer knew that look, quickly noticing and fearing the agitation that was going around the table as Danny explained his strategy.
“These ghosts have to be led by someone: a powerful leader, like an army general, a gladiator—”
Sam stopped searching through her bags and coughed into her hand.
“—Or something like that,” Danny continued, stopping for a second to listen to the whirr of ghostly noises from outside. “That main ghost is stationed at the gym, where the shield was activated, so we’re gonna need a lot of firepower there. Most of us will be there on the attack, but,” Danny pointed at Tucker, “the real powerhouses will be defense in the principal’s office.”
“Why the office?” Tiffanie swiveled in her stool to ask Tucker.
“It’s the main place connected to the school’s intranet.” He pulled up his phone, showing bright green text on a fully black background. There were, surprisingly, no glitches on the screen. “We may have no tech right now, but we can still connect through the cable to unlock the doors.”
“Ey!” Paulina sat up, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Why is your rusty P.D.A. fine, but my phone isn’t?”
Tucker only gave the group of girls a knowing look, the pride evident in his smirk. “Oh, I just reprogrammed it to make it ghost-proof after way too many incidents. The ANT1-T3CHNU5 program works wonders.”
“Really? That’s, like, so cool.”
“And so not fair, Techno Geek. I want that too!”
Tucker fully took in the attention, striding with glee towards Lancer’s desk as he flipped imaginary long hair. “Which reminds me, Mr. Lancer. I’m gonna need to use your laptop.”
“… What for?”
Tucker sighed, as if the answer were obvious—perhaps it was obvious to him. “Before we do anything, I need to hack into the school’s security system to unlock this barrier.” He nodded at the classroom’s door.
“And you… you can do that, Mr. Foley?”
Star, surprisingly invested in the conversation, pouted. “But why not just open all the doors and let us out of here?”
“If you want a battalion of scared students running around the halls while there are dozens of ghosts around, then sure.” Star nodded in understanding. “We open this door, get rid of the ghosts, then deal with the rest.”
“Mr. Foley… Mr. Fenton, Ms. Manson. This plan is way too dangerous. I won’t let you, me, or anyone else jump into battle with such risky ideas. I understand you wish to help, but by The Iliad, I assure you that tossing our lives away is not the right thing to do.”
“We don’t have much choice, Mr. Lancer." Sam set all of the trio’s backpacks on the table, finishing her check of… whatever she was checking. “And you’re not going to stop us, either.”
“You are my students and my responsibility. I refuse to just let you walk out there and put yourselves in danger.”
Sam rolled her eyes and opened her bag.
“Furthermore,” Lancer continued. “We have no methods of fighting back. Where would you even expect to get an ecto—”
His student proceeded to slowly pull an entire ecto-shotgun out of her spider-themed backpack. She went through all of the trio’s bags, taking out three separate thermoses—one more damaged than the others—four glowing bracelets with lasers attached to them, two batons, a pair of metal gloves, two curved hand-held lasers, three ecto-pistols, and an entire bazooka.
… What?
Students gasped around the table. Some took a cautious step back, but most insisted on getting closer to the ghost weapons, smiling in near-admiration at the thrill of the battle.
“Are those real??” Kyle nearly tripped as he moved to get a better look.
“Hey, what the fuck?” Dash yelled.
Lancer wasn't going to correct him. Dash was right. What the fuck. “Have you—have you been bringing these to school?”
Sam stared at Lancer with a thin smile on her face. “Always gotta be prepared.”
He paled.
“It’s Fenton Compacting Technology, if you’re wondering,” Danny said without even looking up, ominously staring at the wall again as if he were paying attention to the outside noises. He frowned at a sudden, high-pitched shriek from one of the patrolling ghosts. “Makes travel easy when hunting ghosts.”
“You’re all nuts,” Ashley yelped, failing to hide her nervous laughter.
"Nope." Danny turned to her with a pained smile. “I’m just really unlucky.” The squinting expression really brought attention to his eyebags, letting gravity take over as he surrendered to his existential exhaustion. He was focused, sure, but he still looked like he was missing several days of sleep.
Unfortunately, this was the Danny that Lancer recognized.
Lancer couldn’t help but wonder if this was the reason. If this was the reason for his absences, for his exhaustion, for his escapades. This all started at the beginning of freshman year, when the town became officially haunted. The ghosts could have been targeting Danny all along—he was the son of the local ghost hunters, after all.
Was this what Lancer had been missing?
He blinked in realization—and Valerie must have read his mind. “Have you been fighting ghosts all along?”
Danny shrugged at her. He just shrugged. “Sometimes I have to.”
“But I’ve never seen you—”
“So you guys have actual ghost-hunting training?” Tiffanie walked up towards Sam, hesitantly hovering her hand over the weapons on the table.
"You could say that." Sam’s voice lingered, drifting her eyes to the side as if searching for the correct words. “But right now, we are your only way out of this mess.”
Sam picked up one of the bracelets off the table, twisting it around in her hand and adjusting its wrist size. Without any apparent caution, she shoved the device in Tiffanie’s direction, who flinched as the sudden fear and adrenaline washed through her body.
She very carefully put the bracelet on her arm. “Are we really doing this?”
“Well,” Mikey stepped forward, picking up one of the thermoses. “I think we can. We’ve done this before, right? If you three lead the way…”
“And we can be the heroes of Casper High!” Paulina smiled. She swiveled on her heel to face a frustrated Dash, who sat by with crossed arms. “We’d be legends!”
He didn’t seem to back down from his declaration, refusing to listen to anything the trio suggested. Lancer grimaced at the obvious targeting.
“Everyone would be proud of us…" Paulina continued, to no avail. The head cheerleader gasped as an idea crossed her mind, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Phantom would be really happy to see us fighting ghosts…”
Dash immediately perked up.
“Fine, but only because he showed up last time, and it would be awesome to fight beside him again.”
Students headed to the back of the room, picking out whatever weapons would work best for them. Sam picked up one of the larger combat weapons and handed it to Kwan, mentioning something about his build and how the weapon would be the best for him. Her commentary was surprisingly accurate, and the whole class group jittered with anticipation to put their armament to good use.
Lancer realized he was still standing behind his desk. While the students prepared for battle—which, in itself, was already something so beyond unfathomable to him—he caught sight of Tucker and Danny crouched together over a contraption of wires and machines. Danny gripped one of those long-distance ecto-weapons, and the way the weapon rested so casually in his hands sent a chill down Lancer’s spine.
How had Danny moved around the room so fast? Lancer had no clue.
Tucker’s P.D.A. rested on the table right at the center of the entanglement of wires, its port connected directly to Lancer’s school laptop. Between the P.D.A. and the computer, the wires met on top of a thin piece of green plastic with small copper attachments over it. Lancer wasn’t sure where Tucker and Danny got it, but he honestly didn’t want to know. Both devices’ monitors displayed the black-and-green screen that Lancer had previously only seen in bizarre science-fiction movies from the 1990s where characters performed unbelievable hacking feats.
He never expected to see it in real life, much less on one of his student’s devices. Considering all the wonderfully horrific things Amity Park had experienced in the last few years, he really shouldn’t be surprised at this point—particularly if the student in question is Tucker Foley. He was a bit of a troublemaker, but Lancer had never met anyone as intelligent and passionate about computer science. Lancer may not have approved of Foley’s behavior, but he knew that he had an incredibly bright future ahead of him.
The same applied to Sam Manson. She was a great writer, and although she had some more aggressive tendencies, her dedication was evident in her work. She knew what she believed in and was a great public speaker. She and Tucker both had areas for improvement, but it was beyond obvious that their academic grades did not accurately represent their true potential. Lancer always tried to take that into consideration, though there were no clear explanations as to why they did not, and basically refused to, give their full efforts in class.
Lancer stood still, dumbfounded, finally understanding what kept them so busy in their free time.
Ms. Gray’s case wasn’t too dissimilar, though it was her part-time job that kept her occupied instead of ghosts.
Even in this situation, Danny Fenton was an exception—it seemed that he was always an exception to every rule, but never in a positive way. He had potential, but unlike his friends, his academic effort was practically nonexistent. Even when he did try, there was some invisible wall impeding him from doing his best.
It was great to see Danny being a role model for others. It was not great to see him replacing academics with ghost fighting, brawling against mighty paranormal creatures that could kill him in a flash rather than using any of the knowledge he has.
It felt to Lancer like Danny was wasting his potential—and the worst part was that he didn’t seem to enjoy what he was doing. Danny’s demeanor changed, suddenly carrying himself with wisdom and experience, but never with the same excitement as the other students in his class. Danny was stern and strategic, and something about his serious tone told Lancer that there was far more at stake than they realized.
It only served to confirm to Lancer that Danny did not choose this life. He was constantly put in danger in Amity Park, living right above a portal to an entire alternate world. If Lancer were to be a good teacher, and he wanted to be, he would do whatever he could to get Danny out of such a dangerous situation.
Now he knew where Danny ran off to instead of going to the bathroom.
Lancer wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation, but Tucker must have told a hilarious joke by the volume of Danny’s laughter.
Danny laughed —it was a sound so foreign that it quickly startled Lancer out of his thoughts. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard Danny laugh so genuinely, but his voice was much deeper and more mature than it used to be.
It must have been years ago.
“Dude…” Tucker exhaled in relief as he finally stopped typing, throwing his shoulders forward as he folded into himself. Was he already done?
“Why can’t we just have one chill day?” He asked his friend without turning away from the screen, as it flashed with a bright white padlock icon—hopefully a good sign. “Just one normal, regular day where everything is normal. I blame you for your complicated life.”
“Hey, you’re the one who chose to be my sidekick,” Danny teased.
Tucker turned around in his seat to face Danny, mouth wide open in shock and disbelief. He took in a long breath, as if he were actually offended. He stood still for a second, a caricature of betrayal with his hand on his chest, before the two broke into giggles.
It was really sweet to see.
“Are you dorks ready?” Sam called from the other side of the room, striding forward as she spun two of those curved weapons on her fingers. The other students followed her like a small army, some excited and some afraid, but none backing down.
Sam tossed one of those curved weapons to Tucker, who caught it with both his hands. “Yes, sir. Doors are ready to go up.”
In a flash, both students grabbed the handles and pressed a button on the weapon—which then unfolded to cover their hands, chest, legs, and heads in a metallic battle suit perfectly adjusted to their size. Steel cylinders wrapped around their arms, and a reflective shield fell over their faces.
Many gasped in awe, including Lancer. They had seen the suits before—the Fentons had openly used them in past ghost fights to protect the town, apparently calling them “Fenton Peelers.” The real shock wasn't the advanced technology—a design that would have been unbelievable only a few years ago—but rather how surprisingly well the suits fit the misfits. It was baffling to see two awkward teenagers in full battle armor.
Danny stood apart from them, a bit to the side, only holding the beat-down thermos and that long-range ecto-shotgun in his hands. He seemed proud of his friends.
He strode to meet Lancer as the class fawned over the leaders of their tiny rebellion.
“Hey, Mr. Lancer—” Danny raised the ecto-shotgun in his hands, noticeably pointing the barrel away from himself. “Uhm,” he pauses. “This one's for you.”
“I'm… I'm not sure if I—”
“I know you can. Just, uhm, aim for the higher ground. Hit anything that comes from above, okay?” He signaled the height by lifting his flat hand far above his head.
So he didn't accidentally shoot the students, Lancer reasoned.
The gun was safe for humans, though, so this idea could be just because he was tall… but Lancer doubted that.
“Thank you, Mr. Fenton.” He grabbed the ecto-weapon and pointed it to the ground, as was the procedure. He let out a nervous laugh, “I'm not sure what exactly to do with this.”
“Never used one of these weapons before?”
“Not exactly… Paradise Lost, this entire situation is still surreal to me. Are you absolutely sure you know what you're doing?”
Danny nodded once. “It's fine, Mr. Lancer. We'll be fine. I'll make sure of it.”
Mr. Lancer frowned at that. That was concerning.
The teenager quickly changed topics, pointing at the gun in Lancer’s hand. “Look through the small hole and make sure it’s lined up with that green marking in front. To recharge, just turn around the tube at the back.” His finger lined the markings of the thick metal pipe, engraved with the neon green FentonWorks logo. “See?”
It was only then that it dawned on him. It was when he accepted what was going to happen, his responsibility to protect those teenagers, the real dangers beyond the excited young minds of his students. He already knew it, but only now did he take this situation as something real and tangible that was actually happening.
The ecto-shotgun was so heavy in his hands.
He was not paid enough for this.
“I'll do my best.”
Lancer's precision was actually not that bad. He knew that games and real life were very different, but arcades in his youth had enough laser targets for him to practice. He was not going to let his students wander off into danger, but if he could do nothing to stop it—and, admittedly, the trio's inspirational incentives were getting to him—he would not make himself a burden.
He'd defend these kids with his life.
“You have so much experience with these ghost weapons. Your parents must have taught you a lot, with all of their lengthy presentations.”
“Ha,” he rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it. I actually worked on some of these, and my dad was a chatterbox the entire time we were down at the lab. You can't imagine what breakfast is like.”
“You helped build these?” Lancer couldn't stop his mouth from falling open. Danny rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that he never let go of.
“Uh, yeah. Some things.”
Lancer put his free hand on Danny's shoulder, and both jumped up at the same time.
His student recoiled at the sudden touch, tensing his entire body in less than a second. He jumped up as if his body were taking a photograph. That was very concerning.
Lancer, in turn, flinched at the surprising coldness of Danny's shoulders. Winter had already passed, and the locked-up room was too stuffy from the hours of underperforming ventilation for him to be that chilling to the touch.
He pressed his hand firmer.
“I won't say I approve of your actions, or that all this isn't a horrifying experience, but you're a good leader. I'm proud of you for taking this stand for your peers.”
Danny froze in place. His face slowly contorted as he processed what he heard, the words taking a few moments to really settle in his mind.
When it did, he turned away. “I'm just,” he paused in disbelief at every word, phrasing it almost as if it were a question, “doing what I can.”
“I think you're undermining yourself here. You may be reckless, but your heart is in the right place, and you're the only one capable of motivating your classmates to fight for the school. I am very worried—of course I am; it's my job to be—but know that I'll do whatever I can to give you the necessary help. I really wish to see more of this side of you.”
Danny to the side as his face slowly turned red, his starry eyes looking at anything but Lancer. “Thanks, I guess.”
Lancer made a mental note to find whatever accommodations Danny could legally receive. For years, there was never a concrete reason for him to receive special help, and his refusal to give a proper justification to the school board made it much harder to convince them that he even deserved academic help. War and Peace, it took months for Lancer to convince himself of that, instead of believing that Danny had just fallen into a lazy slump. He thought Danny just didn't care enough.
He could not have been more wrong. Danny was clearly targeted by ghosts for being the ghost hunter's youngest son—perhaps it was the same mentality of trickster witches or demons?—and Lancer wouldn't stop until Ishiyama accepted that excuse to give the boy extra time on assignments.
Lancer had just started opening the door into his student's life, and a tidal wave had already thrown him off balance. He couldn't wait to know what else he'd discover.
Danny took a sheepish step back, picking up the damaged thermos he had left on the table. It must be his personal one, since it was clearly put to use more often than the others. Lancer wondered how many ghosts entered the Fenton household through the portal, triggering alarms at late hours of the night. It must be exhausting. It evidently was.
The sight of Danny holding the thermos made him itch, a discomforting thought picking at his brain. His mouth acted before he did.
“Wait. Where is your weapon?”
“Huh?” Danny blinked.
“How do you plan on defending yourself, Mr. Fenton?”
“Uhhhhhhhhh…” His voice trailed off. “I can handle myself.”
“But that's not—”
“It's time, Danny!” Tucker closed Lancer's laptop, the white padlock code now displayed on his P.D.A.
Danny's entire body relaxed as he was saved by the metaphorical bell, much to Lancer's dismay. “Sam, did you go over the plan with everyone?”
“Yep,” she popped her ‘p.’ Her and Tucker's voices were slightly muffled by the suits. “Val's ready too.”
It was odd to point her out specifically, though it would make sense to discuss some ghost-fighting procedures with her, considering her anger at the specters. Lancer must have missed something, because Valerie stood speechless next to Sam, eyes wide and veins pulsing on her neck.
“Ms. Gray, are you—?”
“Yes, yes. I'm fine. Let's just get this over with.”
“Don't be such a buzzkill, ” Brittany groaned. “We'll do great!”
“Yeah! No ghost will be a match for us!” Dash, now more motivated than ever— thank you, Paulina —jumped forward to take the lead.
Valerie only carried a small lipstick laser and a metallic thermos in a different color—must have been another model of some kind.
She stopped right in front of Danny, sternly shaking her pointed finger in front of his face. “We have a lot to talk about later.”
He reflexively raised both of his hands with palms facing forward, a universal sign of surrender, but his smile was stretched too thin to be innocent.
Valerie stomped past Lancer as she headed to the door, mumbling to herself with her head hung low. “Can't believe those three idiots knew all along…”
Lancer didn't quite understand what she was talking about, but he wasn't going to get involved in his student's personal lives like that. He had enough on his plate as it was.
“Alright, everyone!” Danny marched forward, lifting his head to look at his classmates. “Ready?”
“Ready!” They cheered.
Lancer was not ready, but Sam was right. They didn’t have a choice.
Tucker pressed a button on his P.D.A., and the electric systems over the door frame whirled to life. The soft lime-green haze over the iron gates faded until it was fully gone, leaving behind only a metal barricade over the exit. The defenses swiftly rose back into a hidden compartment in the wall and revealed a simple white door with a window stretching from the door handle to the top. They could see a blurry outline of the lockers on the other side of the hallway and, thankfully, no ghosts at the moment. They couldn’t waste a second.
Danny smiled wider than Lancer had ever seen before.
“Let’s go.”