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1. Dash
Dash rolls his shoulder; after he fumbled his throw at the game last, his dad had him do extra training drills for hours and man, are his muscles sore. But instead of sitting with the fact that his dad is a royal pain in the ass sometimes, or that he really is exhausted, or that he didn’t have time to study for the makeup test he’s definitely going to fail, he just wants to take out his anger on something else; something nerdier, turdier.
(Alright, alright, he admits that’s not his best work, but he had a long night, okay?)
“Fen-turd!” he calls down the hallway. He watches Danny keep walking with his two friends, and nope—that can’t happen. Because the only thing worse than sitting with his thoughts is sitting with his thoughts and being embarrassed Danny didn’t take the bait. “What, you just going to keep walking?”
He hears the goth girl murmur, “Here we go again.”
Danny turns around with a shrug. “Uh, yeah actually. I was just going to ignore you.”
Danny snickers and oh! Hell no. Dash’s temper flares up again, and he grabs the nerd by his nerd-shirt and looks into his dumb, nerdy-nerd face. Nerd.
“I don’t think so, Fen-turd,” he taunts. He half expects Danny to get angry (Dash’s favorite) and half expects the eye-roll (becoming unfortunately more common).
What he doesn’t expect, however, is the dread. He looks at Danny, and it feels like the wind was knocked out of him. He drops his shirt and clutches his chest, his heart feels frozen, and all of the shadows in the room seem to spiral towards Danny, like he’s some kind of fucked up darkness magnet. He can’t breathe, and Danny’s not blinking, and the air is getting colder. The lights are flickering, and there is nothing but pure darkness behind Danny’s eyes. Dash is too scared to move, even as the cold in the air solidifies to frost, even as it creeps onto his skin and letterman jacket.
“Just leave me alone,” Danny says, and there’s something wrong with his voice; it’s too low or loud or powerful and Dash feels nailed to the spot.
“Y-you’re…” Dash’s voice dies in his throat. “You’re not worth the trouble.”
He walks down the hallway as fast as he can without it looking like he’s running away.
2. Sam
Sam watches Dash run away—like actually run away out of fear. It’s, like, super cool and all, but also, it means something’s up with Danny.
She looks at the frozen lockers, at the lights that are finally ceasing their flickering. She shivers a little; even she was put off by Danny’s aura just then. And it was not an easy thing to out-dark the goth.
“Danny…” Sam trails off, not sure what she even wants to say. Did he just have enough? Hit some breaking point where he didn’t want to hide his ghost side anymore? Because if so, that would open a world of problems Sam doesn’t really want to deal with right now.
“What was that about?” Danny says. His voice sounds back to normal.
“Uh…dude…” Tucker fumbles; he still sounds afraid, and Sam can’t blame him. She never thought she’d be afraid of one of her best friends, and that would be disturbing if it wasn’t so goth. Because it’s definitely goth. And she’s definitely not shaking a little right now, worried that he’s going to shift into that thing again. That thing that’s not Danny, or even Phantom, but something more.
“‘Uh dude’ what?” Danny says, using air quotes, sounding genuinely confused. He scoffs. “He just ran off for no reason. That’s so weird.”
No reason? Did Danny do all of that by accident? Did he not even realize?
Sam can’t stop herself from asking. “But didn’t you see-”
The bell rings, cutting off her sentence.
“Aw nuts, I’ve gotta go before Lancer kills me,” Danny says. He blinks. “Again.”
He turns and walks away down the hallway.
Sam swipes a finger over the locker, watching the ice melt on her skin.
“Well, this can’t be good,” Sam says.
Tucker waves his hands around.
“Obviously!” he shouts. “What the hell was that?”
Sam shrugs.
“Danny’s gotten more powers before,” Sam says with a shrug. “Maybe this is just a new one?”
Tucker shudders.
“Gee, I hope not. He’d be like, the anti-wingman. That would suck!” Tucker says, exasperated. Sam snorts. “His new power is having negative game?”
“Glad to see your priorities haven’t changed,” Sam says with an eyeroll.
But secretly, she’s glad. Because she’s afraid of Danny, and it’s clear Tuck is too, but that isn’t changing anything.
They’ll stick by his side. Always.
3. Mr. Lancer
Something is wrong with that Fenton boy, and it’s not just his abysmal understanding of the language arts. Because, and let’s be frank—he is not one of William’s favorite students.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about Daniel Doomed-for-a-career-at-the-Nasty-Burger Fenton, because he does; he sees more than the boy thinks. The bruises, the bandages, the scared looks. William had thought it was his parents, at first—he even tried to look into the family but the higher ups at Casper High were…unhelpful.
However, it was not quite a year ago, right when his academics shifted from bad to worse, William saw Daniel fall through his desk and try to play it off as ‘just being clumsy.’ He realized that the truth was in reality, much stranger than any fiction.
William began to give out more detentions as a weird, one-sided mercy—Daniel would have no option but to have at least one uninterrupted hour to focus on school in the midst of whatever it was he was caught up in. When it comes to ghost-related issues, William preferred not to get involved, wishing they remained nothing but melodrama on novel pages. Long story short, his eagerness to hold Daniel after school was usually out of concern for the boy.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for today’s detention. That one was all on Daniel. William had dared to feel a dash, an ounce of hope when the Fenton boy turned in his essay on time—was it possible the positive influence of his sister was finally effective? But between the vague sentences (not even grammatically correct, mind you) and the nonsense points, it was clear Daniel had not even read the prompt correctly.
“I’m giving you the chance to make this right,” William says, trying not to let his temper get the better of him when it’s clear Daniel is staring off into space. “You’ll have an hour, understood?”
Danny rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever.”
William goes back to his desk.
The room is quiet—too quiet. William shifts in his seat. When had it gotten so cold? He shivers, turning his attention back to the actually completed essays he still has to grade. There’s something off, today, something in the air that feels wrong. Still, he focuses, enjoying a little too much how much red ink he’s getting to use.
But that quiet. It’s grating on his nerves.
He looks up. He blinks. He is not sure what he is seeing.
There is something floating above Daniel’s head; it almost looks like a crown, but every time William tries to focus his eyes, the shapes shift around, like it’s trying to hide itself, not meant to be perceived.
What's more shocking—and infinitely more concerning—is Daniel himself. For one, his eyes are glowing a fierce, ectoplasmic green. Then his skin…that’s even worse. His veins are glowing that same, terrible green, a color so wrong and other worldly that green isn’t a good fit. The glow under his skin is brightest in his right hand, in which, mundanely, Daniel is somehow still trying to write his essay. Perhaps William has not been giving him enough credit on his work ethic. Still, that light; it’s like a bolt of lightning, with all of its branches and forks, was frozen in a moment beneath his skin.
“The King in Yellow, Mr. Fenton!” William squeaks. He didn’t even know his voice could go up that high. Danny looks up, startled. He, and the room, are back to normal. Had William just imagined it all?
“Uh, what is it Mr. Lancer?” Danny says. He blinks, eyes graciously blue. “You’re kind of cutting into the thirty minutes I have left.”
“I…yes. Continue, Mr. Fenton,” William says shakily. Danny raises an eyebrow. Come on, William, think of an excuse. Any excuse. Anything. “Apologies. I realized I missed an appointment earlier.”
Danny smirks. “And you get mad at me for missing my deadlines. Isn’t that kind of hypocritical Mr. Lancer?”
William pinches the bridge of his nose. Thirty minutes. He just has to hold out for thirty minutes. “The clock is ticking, Mr. Fenton. You’d better get back to work.”
4. Maddie
Maddie can’t stop the grin on her face. Oh! And Jack will be just thrilled!
She looks down at her newest invention—a ray gun designed to tap into a ghost’s unique ecotosignature and identify its weaknesses. Unfortunately for her, Jack’s better with the names, so she’ll just have to wait.
She hears the door open—that’s right. Danny should be back from school, maybe he’ll have an idea of what to call the latest innovation in the ghost hunting world.
“Danny!” she calls. She’s not expecting a verbal response, but he usually comes down. And sure enough, though he’s dragging his feet, Danny does come to the lab. He looks around, with a weird mixture of boredom and fear on his face. Maddie bites back a reassurance—she and Jack had noticed how afraid he was of the ghosts, but every time they tried to comfort him that they’d rip those monsters to atoms or even capture them for dissections, it only seemed to make Danny more scared. So, she stopped trying.
Danny glances down at her ray gun, unimpressed.
“New weapon?” he says, unenthused. Maddie purses her lips. He could at least pretend to be interested.
“That’s right Danny,” she says, grinning. She won’t let his disinterested teenage phase cramp her style.
“And what does this one do?” Danny says. The air is sucked out of the room. There’s no oxygen, just her son’s horrible, unbroken stare. His blue eyes look wrong, somehow. “How are you killing them now?”
Maddie must, must be imagining it. But for a moment there, his teeth looked sharp, like fangs, but that was impossible. She blinks. Her son stands in front of her; angry, but he still looks like Danny.
“Danny, how many times have we told you, ghosts can’t die, they’re just-”
Maddie’s voice falters. Danny’s skin looks too pale. His voice sounds wrong; hollow, somehow. Too many things are wrong with him, it’s almost like he’s…no. No, that’s not possible.
“Get rid of it,” Danny commands, looking at the gun. Maddie startles, taking a step backwards. This isn’t like him, he doesn’t talk back like this, he’s sweet and lazy and laidback and wonderful and he doesn’t scare her. Danny smiles, and the fangs are on full display, there’s not denying it this time. “Please.”
Maddie nods, tossing the gun in the trash immediately.
She hates the relief she feels when he leaves the basement.
5. Jazz
“Mom, dad, I’m back!” Jazz calls out to the house. She waits for a response, getting none. That’s not unusual. “Do you need me to cook dinner again?”
Still, no response. She groans, stomping her way down to the lab. She hates when they ignore her. But she doesn’t see her dad, just her mom, uncharacteristically out of her lab suit.
“Mom?” Jazz asks. She looks—professionally speaking, of course—rough. Hair disheveled, pale face. Almost like she’s seen a ghost (Ha! Actually it’s not funny. She must be spending far too much time with her father).
Her mom stands up from her chair with a jump, startled.
“Jesus! I didn’t see you there, don’t scare me like that!” she exclaims, hand to her chest.
Just as Jazz stops herself from saying ‘Actually my name is Jazz’ (this time, she’s spending too much time with Danny), she realizes the absolutely terrified look on her mom’s face.
“Mom, are you…? What happened?” Jazz asks. She’s never seen her like this.
Her mother runs a hand through her hair.
“I think it’s finally happened,” she begins, and boy, her vagueness is not reassuring Jazz. “The ectoplasm—I must have been exposed to enough during my research that I’m starting to have hallucinations.”
That is not, Jazz thinks again, not reassuring.
“Hallucinations?” Jazz echoes, trying not to shout.
“It was…” she shakes her head, eyes wide. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t real.”
Jazz purses her lips. She understood her parents’ neuroses, she has for years; always knew how to counter their choices with evidence and research. However, this…this is different.
“Well, I…” Jazz falters. She blinks. “Do you need me to make dinner tonight? Danny-”
“Don’t,” she interrupts, voice hushed. Jazz holds her breath. There’s no way she found out about Danny, right? That would be very, very bad. She needs to check on him, and now.
“Text me if you change your mind,” she says, frowning at her mother. Trying not to move too fast, she ascends the lab stairs and goes right to Danny’s room. It’s closed, which is not surprising.
Jazz knocks on the door; it’s cold to the touch.
“Danny?” Jazz calls through the door. “Mom was acting really weird. Are you okay?”
No response. Jazz feels a cold sweat break through.
“Danny, are you there?” Jazz asks. She knows how easy it would be for him to fly away, but she has a really bad feeling. Her throat feels tight. “Mom was acting really weird, like really weird, and I’m worried.”
Still, no response.
“Alright Danny, I’m warning you now,” Jazz says, determined, “I’m coming in the room.”
She tries the doorknob. It’s locked.
“Leave me alone, Jazz,” Danny responds. His voice is echoey, like when he’s Phantom. Jazz breathes a sigh of relief. So mom didn’t hurt him too badly, she didn’t kill–
Jazz shakes the thought out of her head, suddenly feeling nauseous.
“Danny, did mom hurt you?” Jazz says, not hiding the tears. She leans her head against the door. “I”m scared, I’m just worried about you…”
She hiccups from the sobs.
She hears the door unlock.
She pulls the door open and steps inside. It’s absolutely freezing; Danny’s dresser and floor are coated in a thick layer of frost. It’s darker than it should be; somehow, the shadows are stronger in this room, completely swallowing the moonlight. Danny had taken his comforter and wrapped it around himself, hiding himself fully, like a little cocoon. Jazz may not be able to see him, but she can sense the ghostly power. She knows he’s not ready to show that side of himself, not yet, so even though it feels silly, she hugs the bundle of comforter, knowing that Danny’s inside.
“I’m so glad you’re safe, little brother.”
Danny
Alright, Danny knew something was up. He knew it when Dash ran away like a dog with its tail between its legs, he knew it when Sam and Tucker looked kind of spooked, he knew it when Lancer lied (badly) about missing an appointment—the man would never.
He knew something was wrong but he just kinda…didn’t want to deal with it?
Look, he’s not stupid or anything, it’s just that when you save the town—also the world—you kind of want a break. Ancients, that would be nice. An actual, full-day break.
He thought he could ignore the weirdness for a day. To his credit, he almost managed it, until his mom…
Danny pulls the blanket tighter around himself. Jazz isn’t leaving, and he’s not sure how he’s going to explain this to her.
“Are you okay, Danny?” she asks. She hasn’t asked about the blanket once, and for some reason, that’s less reassuring.
“‘M fine,” he says, and he knows it’s not convincing, and that Jazz is definitely going to pick up on that.
Jazz sighs. “If you ever want to talk about what’s going on with you…”
Danny shuts his eyes, curling in more. I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.
“I was going to wait until you were ready to tell me,” Jazz starts. Well. This can’t be good. “But I think you need support now, so here goes—I’ve known you were Phantom since Spectra.”
Danny freezes.
“I didn’t say anything, I wanted you to feel safe enough to come to me but Danny, the way mom was acting…I was just so scared.”
And it all makes sense; the excuses, the covering for Danny when she didn’t have to, the even more intense pro-ghost arguments at dinner, it all makes sense. Danny hears Jazz sniffling. Suddenly, he feels very silly under his blanket, so he lets it fall. He hopes he doesn’t look too strange; whatever’s happened to his powers hasn’t gone away.
“I’m okay, Jazz.”
She looks up through her tears and hugs him tight.
“She didn’t hurt you?” Jazz asks, pulling away.
“No,” Danny shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
Jazz’s face pales.
“Danny-”
“Look, I’m not sure what’s going on with me today,” Danny says. He does not want to talk about his parents right now. “It’s like my powers are on the fritz, they’re stronger, somehow.”
Jazz nods for him to go on.
“I keep scaring people, even Tuck and Sam. I scared Sam today, Jazz, I didn’t even think that was possible.”
Jazz shrugs.
“She probably thinks you’re cool now,” Jazz says. “Silver lining?”
Danny sighs, leaning against the wall. “I guess? I just wish I knew what was up with me. I just-”
Danny pauses, looking down at his glowing hand—did his ghost form always have claws?
“It must have something to do with the ghosts that tried to take over Amity,” Jazz guesses. “Did something happen there?”
“I mean, I guess,” Danny says with a shrug. “I stopped Pariah Dark—that’s the king of the ghosts by the way—by locking him back in his coffin.”
Jazz looks baffled.
“He’s going to sleep for a looong time,” Danny says. Jazz doesn’t seem impressed.
“King of the Ghosts?” Jazz exclaims. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“Me neither,” Danny says with a snort. “It would have been helpful to know about him before I fought him and stole his crown.”
“You stole…the king of the ghost’s crown?” Jazz asks.
“Uh…yeah?”
“Danny,” Jazz sounds defeated. She rubs her temples. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t accidentally become Ghost King.”
Danny looks at her. He blinks. He looks back at his clawed fingers.
“Oh,” he says simply. “I hadn’t thought of that.”