#ectoberweek2018

After he came to that conclusion, he approached his next revelation about what really made ghosts more active at night. Over a period of a few weeks of constant night attacks, he started noticing something. The ghosts he fought at night were stronger than the ones he fought during the day, and he... was also stronger at night. It had taken him a while to figure it out, since he hadn't really noticed that his opponents were stronger and he also had enhanced strength during those hours, but once he realized it, he couldn't ignore the sensation of strength that he acquired at night. It was weird – how much more refreshed and energized he felt at night, like his body had gotten some kind of natural power-up. And once he recognized that sensation, he realized that it didn't happen during the entire night – it only occurred between certain hours. He started keeping track of specific times and decided that it only happened between 3 and 4 AM, the most popular hour for attacks. Of course, none of it was a coincidence.

“Literally anybody could've told you that, Danny,” Sam rolled her eyes. They were sitting in her basement, and Danny had randomly brought it up after thinking about it for a few days. “The Witching Hour is common knowledge.”

“You're a goth encyclopedia,” Tucker argued. “You know everything when it comes to paranormal lore.”

“I mean, I knew about the Witching Hour,” Danny said, “but I didn't really realize that it was a thing that affected ghosts, and me.”

“Well at this point,” Tucker started, “I'm sure we can assume that every myth throughout history is real, so are you really surprised?”

“Good point,” Danny shrugged. “I mean, not really, anyway.”

So, the three of them brushed it off, since it wasn't really significant for anything. They spent the rest of that night watching scary movies, before Danny had to fly Tucker and himself home.

It was a few weeks after that when Danny realized that the Witching Hour had a much more thorough grasp on him than he had initially thought.

Jazz pulled all-nighters a lot. Sometimes even on school nights, which resulted in a considerable coffee demand until she could come home and take a well deserved nap. So there she was, dull red eyes staring into her computer screen, almost completely in the dark, typing up another essay for college applications. She'd lost track of time, and since it was the weekend, she couldn't really find the mind to care very much. She just couldn't stop typing, because she would lose her momentary vision for the essay. The words were in her head now, and she had to transcribe them somewhere, before she inevitably forgot them in the void of sleep.

She wouldn't stop typing until this was completely finished. She was determined that she would not comply to sleep, sleep would comply to her.

'I've found with experience that this is...' Jazz paused. What was the word? 'Important'? No, she decided, that word is too vague. Maybe the words 'vital' or 'crucial'? She pondered each of them, and decided on the word 'vital'. '...this is vital to my formation as an exemplary student' No. Rewrite that. '…this is vital to my outstanding high school career, and that without it I could have never accomplished my current...' She was stuck again. Why do words have to be so complicated? she lamented, almost deciding to give it up and go to sleep before she passed out face down on the keyboard again.

But she resisted the temptation, opting to continue writing instead, though within minutes, she found that her mind was slowly delving into the thrall of unconsciousness, and she was starting to lose the battle against the irrepressible force. Darkness seemed to subtly drip within the words on her computer screen, causing the pixelated text to blur into formless black shapes. Her eyes became dull and her sense of focus was compromised, and her eyelids began to droop with finality.

She wasn't even aware that she was slipping away.

The keyboard didn't even feel uncomfortable when she blindly laid her head on it.

Her mind wasn't present, and her eyes were open by a sliver, but the sudden movement in her peripheral vision unnerved her, causing her heart to adopt an alarming tempo. She felt the invasive sensation of air being vacuumed out of her lungs, and consequently fell out of her chair when she attempted to sit upright. Her forehead met the carpet with a vengeance, and she was left reeling, scouring the darkness for what had startled her out of her near sleep. She pulled herself up once again, and glimpsed motion beyond her doorway, causing her heart-rate to escalate for a second time.

Her groggy brain lagged as it failed to comprehend the sight before her; a suspended figure, arms slack beside it, hovering as if it was being held in the air by a noose descending from the ceiling. It felt like some kind of surreal nightmare, and she probably would've believed it was just that, except that something in her head finally clicked into place, and the figure in the air was suddenly familiarly haunting. He was in human form, and his eyes were closed, and his face showed no hints of awareness as he floated slowly, as if his body had it's own awareness. Even though he was currently Fenton, his skin gave off a faint unnatural glow, which was only visible in the utter blackness of Jazz's bedroom. The light from his skin cast dark shadows, creating jagged blotches of darkness around his eyes and nose, which accented the barely visible green tint moving behind his shut eyelids.

She was used to watching Danny exhibit his powers, but seeing him so... lifeless, was unnerving. It sent pangs of fear within her, and if she hadn't been so sapped of her energy, she might have just scurried backwards along her floor until she was against the opposite wall, her knees buried in her chest. She remained where she was instead, opting to just gape in silent fixation.

But then, Danny disappeared from her field of vision, surpassing the space in front of her bedroom door, continuing his path down the hallway. It took her a few moments after that to disregard the eeriness clinging to her weary nerves. And it was like she had awoken from a trance. Her mind began to function properly again (as proper as it could in the wee hours of the night), she began asking the appropriate questions regarding the situation. For instance, why Danny was floating down the hallway, seemingly asleep, but conscious enough to use his powers without realizing it? If anything, Danny had exclusively told her that hovering in human form was uncomfortable, that his ghost form was much more equipped for defying gravity, so why was this the power that decided to manifest in his sleep?

It was almost like he was... sleepwalking. But that's not what this could be, right? Danny had never sleepwalked as a child, she was sure of it, so that meant that this had to be a recent development. So was he ghost sleepwalking/hovering? That's sure what it looked like, because when he had passed by her bedroom door, Danny was not there; he was definitely somewhere else, dreaming.

Since it appeared that he was asleep, Jazz wasn't keen on waking her brother up, but it wasn't like she could risk having him float out the front door and out into the street in the middle of the night, in human form, nonetheless. She had to wake him up and send him to bed so he could sleep uninterrupted.

She pulled herself off of the floor, her legs wobbling beneath her, and she tried to compose herself as she strode into the hallway. Danny was now making his way down the stairs, descending slowly over the steps, maintaining his levitation and never touching them. Shivers caressed her spine again, watching as Danny absently glided through the air with an otherworldly presence that he usually concealed with his liveliness; Phantom never unnerved her because she was always reassured that he was Danny, zoetic and aware of the world around him. But now his human quirks, what attested his earthly sentience, was absent, and all that remained was the uncanny eeriness within him.

She followed him to the bottom of the stairs. Once he had established himself above level flooring, she took a harrowing breath and cautiously reached out to touch his shoulder. She wasn't too surprised when his skin was cold to the touch, but she was concerned that his temperature was lower than usual in human form. She gripped her hand into his shoulder as his body continued to follow its nonexistent path throughout the house. And then, he suddenly ceased floating and collapsed into a hyperventilating heap on the floor, similar to what Jazz had experienced when she had first seen him outside of her bedroom. He didn't notice her at first, and instinctively held up a fiery green fist while he attempted to maintain his erratic breathing.

“Danny,” she said softly. At the sound of her voice, ethereal green eyes decimated her where she stood, and she nearly flinched at the malice in his defensive glare. Danny realized quickly that it was only Jazz and let his hand extinguish immediately, chastising his fight or flight response for almost accidentally pulverizing his sister. He was still on the floor, and his shallow breathing had already modulated into a regular pace.

“How'd I get here?” he looked up at Jazz, confusion evident in his unceasing green eyes. Instantly, her irrational dread vanished; the haunting version of Danny retired behind his usual human awareness. There was emotion in his expression, in his voice, and he was there – not just an empty vessel floating aimlessly through the house.

“You were sleepwalking,” she explained. “Uh – well, technically sleepfloating? Levitating, I guess. Scared the crap out of me so I thought I'd wake you up in case something happened.”

Danny stared at her blankly. Her words took a moment to process, but when they did he was incredulous. “Sleepwalking? I – I've never done that before, though.”

“I know,” she said, remembering her initial doubts. “It was really weird. Since you were using your powers – I didn't even know you could do that in your sleep – do you think it was a ghost thing?”

…

“Maybe?” he yawned. She could see the wheels in his head attempt to turn and just give up. It was too late to truly think about it, or too early, and now that this was over they both needed to go back to sleep.

“Let's go to bed,” she said. She suspected that he probably would've crashed right there if she hadn't suggested it fast enough.

They started walking back up the stairs. “What time is it anyway?” he muttered.

“Maybe like fifteen 'til four,” she guessed without thought.

He paused. “So like 3:45?”

“Mm... yeah?”

“I got an idea what this is, maybe,” he said. “I'll tell you in the morning, though.”

She didn't object. She was kinda too tired to care at this point. “Alright. Goodnight, Danny.”

“Goodnight, Jazz.”

They both fell asleep, and neither of them moved until late the next morning.

Jack and Maddie were unimpressed at the usual exhibit of teenage laziness, but let them sleep late, regardless. It wasn't until about 11 AM that both of them had ventured downstairs for some breakfast (more appropriately brunch now) and recalled the strange occurrence the night before. Danny, as he promised, explained his theory to Jazz. He told her about the inexplicable increase in ghost activity during the Witching Hour and how he had eventually realized that he was stronger during that time-frame.

“Wait, so you think that the ghostly paradigm during that time of night is causing you to use your powers in your sleep? Not just using them, but making  you sleepwalk.” She sounded skeptical, but it was apparent she was intrigued by the idea.

He shrugged, “Weirder things have happened.”

And with an inappropriate lack of concern, they moved on, not thinking too much about it, since it was easier for both of them that way. It wasn't until the next incident that Danny actually considered that his unconscious haunting was more than just an odd, single occurrence.

Back in middle school, sleepovers with Tucker used to stretch far into the morning, typically concluding their crazy video game nights with a sunrise. Now that they were in high school, exhausted from homework and the responsibility of being a superhero, their rare sleepovers usually expired sometime before midnight. Tucker would sleep on the bed while Danny would roll out a sleeping bag, which was also different from when they were younger. Tucker used to sleep on his own sleeping bag next to Danny, but now that they were older, Danny insisted that Tucker got a good night's rest in his own bed. (“I'm half-dead, I sleep like it too, so don't worry.”)

So there they were, after a long week of school drama, hopeless assignments that neither one of them could expect to complete, and more strenuous ghost fights, Tucker on the bed and Danny in the floor. There wasn't much discussion before they passed out, and they each promptly hit the hay after a few seconds. The room was still and quiet, with the intermittent hum of the heater turning on and off to warm the fresh autumn chill in the air. Simultaneously, the numbers on Tucker's digital clock rose and rose, plummeting after midnight, and continued to climb again into the morning hours of the night.

Neither of the boys were aware of the transition between 2:59 and 3 AM, but there was definitely some sort of supernatural liminality that occurred. The clock fell from fifty-nine to zero, and rose from two to three. Something in the air shifted, something cold, even though the heater was still running, and something... restless filled the room. There was an atmosphere of heaviness, an indescribable ambiance churning in the shadows. If anything, the energy in the room was akin to the poise of power, feeding off the darkness, growing. It was unnatural.

There was no build-up, no anticipation. It simply happened. The insubstantial

energy in the room (it wasn't just in the room, it occupied the moment) flexed and twisted, growing heavy around Danny's core. It left him as he was, asleep, and his body was animated, almost like a marionette. His skin adopted a translucent glow, a light only faint enough to be seen in complete darkness, but unwaveringly present. In the same instance, his body sensed an obstacle – the sleeping bag still had him trapped – and automatically phased through it. His rhetorical strings were pulled upwards, and he was instantly vertical, afloat in midair.

Now that he was hovering, his body naturally leaned into the movement of flying, a dormant action, which was inexplicably guided by some unconscious knowledge of the location of his surroundings. He moved across the room, towards Tucker's window, somehow avoiding crashing into a tall shelf.

The dim light his skin emitted was enough to gradually wake Tucker from his sleep. The black boy stared across his room, seeing the blurry outline of a figure in white hovering around his room. Petrified, he didn't make a sound, squinting in utter confusion since his unaided vision was downright awful. Eventually, Tucker's muddled brain collected the courage to reach for his glasses, and pressed them to his face slowly. When he reexamined the floating figure in his room, he choked out in disbelief.

“What the fuck, Danny?” he sputtered.

It was when Danny's eyes frantically shot open, causing him to unceremoniously fall to the floor, that Tucker realized that his friend might have not been flying around his room like a creep intentionally.

“Wha-?” Danny exclaimed. He pulled himself up, and looked towards Tucker for an explanation. His green eyes were the primary highlight of his current appearance, and his skin hadn't ceased glowing. Tucker was initially taken aback, since usually Danny only glowed and had green eyes in ghost-form.

“Dude, you were like floating in your sleep, going all around the room and stuff and I couldn't see you at first, creeped me out, God,” he blurted in a single breath.

Danny blankly processed his words, “Really?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah,” Tucker confirmed.

Danny didn't seem to hear him, and looked down questioningly. “Again?”

Tucker barely heard it, and found himself concerned. “What?”

Danny showed no indication that he had heard Tucker and bit his lip curiously. “What time is it?” he asked, instead of responding.

“What do you mean 'again', Danny?” Tucker didn't have the patience to play games.

Once again, Danny ignored him, and moved to the other side of Tucker's bed so he could get a clear view of the lamp-like digital clock. Besides Danny, it was the only thing that was currently providing light to the room. It read 3:13 with a haunting sort of elegance.

Danny's jaw dropped to resemble a sort of “oohhh” expression, and Tucker continued to glare at him interrogatively.

“What's going on, Danny?”

The ghost boy's eyes darted between the clock and his friend. He decisively sat on the edge of Tucker's bed and started to explain.

“Remember what I was saying about the Witching Hour making me stronger? Well a few nights ago Jazz found me sleepflying and we sort of decided that it was an extension of that. For some reason my powers kind of turned on without me doing anything. I hadn't realized that it would be happening more than once, though, I just thought it was a glitch....”

“Wait, so some paranormal force in between 3 and 4 AM can basically make you sleepfly? Why though? Because it's creepy or something? Cause it was creepy to me, man. No offense, but when you're asleep, you look really, like... dead. I mean actually like the scary kind of dead you see in horror movies. Absolutely terrifying.” Tucker froze, realizing that he'd said a little too much. “Oh God, I didn't mean for it to sound like that, I'm sorry dude. You know that-”

Danny gave an ironic laugh, “It's fine, Tucker. I'm a ghost, how can I be offended by the fact that I look dead?”

“True, I guess,” he admitted. “So, does this happen some nights, or is it every night and you've just now noticed it? Oh, and if it's only some nights, then why not every night?”

“I think it's only some nights. I don't know why some nights are different than others. I know I'm awake a lot at 3 AM, but not always, so I don't know what determines if I sleepfly or not.”

Tucker put his hand under his head in thought, “So you don't know a way to prevent it, then?”

“If I can't predict it, then I can't really prevent it,” he replied. “So, nope. But to be honest, I don't know if there's a point to preventing it – it's not really harmful, and it's beyond our control, so it's just another thing that I've decided to let go for now, unless it becomes relevant.”

Tucker realized that he was right. If Danny sleepflew around his house for less than an hour while everyone was sleeping, it wasn't really dangerous for anybody. He voiced his agreement, and the two boys simultaneously expressed their wish to go back to sleep. Danny returned to his discarded sleeping-bag, and Tucker surrendered his glasses for the night, burying himself underneath his blankets again.

Their breathing evened as their minds entered a secure tranquility, and the numbers on the clock continued to rise....

It was about a month or so later when Danny was awakened during one of his sleepflying excursions for the third time. He'd been somewhat aware of some nights that it occurred, because every once in a while he would notice that he'd wake up on top of his covers instead of underneath. He never pondered it much, and usually forgot about it after a few minutes of his daily routine.

That particular night was a nice one for Danny. He got all of his homework done for once, he had managed to stick three ghosts back into the Ghost Zone, and somehow fell asleep before midnight. It was honestly too good to be true, which probably explains why his luck turned sour later on. But in the moment, he was grateful for his momentary break.

Elsewhere within FentonWorks, Maddie meticulously cared for Jack, who had caught the flu at an unfortunate time; they were so close to completing one of their latest projects when he had spontaneously grown ill. At first, both scientists were convinced that Jack's sickness was the scheme of ghosts, and had dragged the Fenton Ghost Catcher out of storage so they could purge all of the ghost energy supposedly contaminating his body. However, Jazz (who had been seriously unimpressed) talked down to them and reminded them of their last attempt at using the Ghost Catcher to cure their sickness. They had camped in a tent by the Ghost Catcher for about two weeks expecting their sickness to go away, when in reality, the only thing that alleviated their flu was over-the-counter medication and ample rest.

So, reluctantly, Jack agreed to combat his sickness 'the normal way' and rest in bed with medicine until he got better. It was only the second night, and even though he was improving, he wasn't in a good condition. The only thing he could eat without throwing up were crackers, the bedroom had to be kept boiling hot at all times, and he had already gone through two boxes of Kleenex. Even though she wanted to be by Jack's side at all times, Maddie couldn't bring herself to sleep in a room so hot. She had tossed and turned and sweated nonstop the previous night, and was not willing to repeat that experience. So instead, she discretely snuck downstairs to sleep on the couch. It wasn't a pullout, so it wasn't as nearly as comfortable, but with a good pillow, it was so much more tolerable than the sauna upstairs.

Somewhere past 2 AM she woke up, and went upstairs to check on Jack for a few minutes. He was sound asleep, but she noticed that the glass of water on his night-stand was empty. She figured that he'd been waking up and falling asleep intermittently, as one usually does when they have a fever, so she decided that she'd refill his water for the next time he woke. She quietly trekked downstairs, being extra careful not to step on the extremely loud floorboards. It was a school night and she couldn't afford to be responsible for her children not getting sufficient sleep.

She reached the kitchen, and used the filtered tap on the fridge to fill up Jack's glass. She walked back upstairs and placed the cup where she found it, making sure not to cause any disturbance. Satisfied, she left the room and habitually closed the door behind her. It made an audible squeaking sound and she cringed at the sound, hoping that it'd been quiet enough not to wake Jack.

“Mads?”

Damn, she'd woken him. She peeked back through the door, and saw her weary husband looking at her expectantly.

“I – My head is hurting again.”

“I'll get you some Ibuprofen, sweetie,” she whispered, making a second trip to the kitchen and back. She returned with two of the pills, and double-checked the time. It was nearly 3 AM now, so it was safe for him to take another dose. She put them in his hand, and watched him attempt to swallow them while laying down, too worn to try and sit up.

“Thanks, Mads,” he muttered, finally swallowing the pills.

Normally she would've kissed him, but she was hesitant, in case she caught his sickness. “Go back to sleep,” she smiled.

He didn't reply. She wandered back downstairs, definitely ready to return to sleep herself. But before she could carelessly flop onto the couch, however, she was paralyzed.

She wasn't literally frozen, but... there was some kind of intangible fear clouding her intuition, petrifying her, turning her sense of reason into molasses. She was at the edge of the living room, and it was like her mind just... stopped processing.

And then, the merciless paralyzation dissipated, releasing Maddie from her disorientation, allowing her to comprehend the sight before her. Her heart immediately drummed with an insistent urgency in her ears when she realized what exactly she was looking at. In the center of the room, above the coffee table, there was a figure, shrouded in unearthly white light, suspended in the air like a silent, menacing wraith, awaiting her arrival. She couldn't decipher many of it's features, but she could see that it was small in stature for a humanoid ghost, which oddly incited more inexplicable terror within her.

With her composure forfeited, Maddie gave little thought to her actions, and she was screaming before she even realized that the sound had left her lips. Her scream not only startled herself, but it also caused the floating figure to fall out of the air.

The specter crumpled to the floor helplessly, and Maddie reflexively took a step back, hoping to find protection in the kitchen. But before she could flee, her eye caught something, something much more horrifying than the ghostly invader in her living room. Because she could see the fallen figure's identity now, and she could see his frightened green eyes staring up at her.

She could see that Danny (her son) was afraid of her. And she could see that something was very, very wrong with him.

Alright, so this is going to be a series of oneshots, but the first two themes sort of ran together, so I decided to make it a two-parter. All other entries will be standalones. This will be continued tomorrow for Disappearance. 

“Danny,” she said his name with a bad taste in her mouth. (That was not Danny.) “You just fell. You – you need to come down to the lab with me, right now.”

Those soulless green eyes mimicked befuddlement. “I fell?” he asked. “What are you talking about? W – why the lab? I feel okay.”

“We just need to go to the lab,” Maddie insisted. Because there she could save her son and get that thing out of his body.

“No,” he said. “There's no reason to.”

She was getting frustrated. Clearly this ghost knew that she was a ghost hunter, and that the lab meant an inevitable doom for ghosts. She wouldn't be able to deceive it into entering the lab, so she would have to force it. And to do that, she'd have to shatter it's little act.

She took a step towards it and said with minimal hesitation, “There's a reason to when you're possessing my son, ghost.”

She felt something stab her in the gut when she saw the look of immediate hurt on Danny's face. It was raw, forlorn trepidation; his eyes dulled, the corners of his mouth quivered, and for a moment it almost seemed like he was trembling. Maddie couldn't let this affect her, because even though it was eminently convincing, that was not Danny. That was an ectoplasmic entity, extremely adept at acting, residing in his skin.

“No,” he whispered. “Not again.”

“I see through you,” she continued. “And I am not letting you stay in Danny.”

Maddie reached out to grab his arm, and he flinched away, taking a few steps backward. The action was almost redundant for a ghost, but Maddie was grateful that it wasn't running away with Danny's body.

“I – I'm not going to the lab,” he repeated. “I know how this nightmare ends. I don't want to do it again. I've had it too... too many times....”

Whatever the ghost was saying didn't make sense. Was he trying to convince her that she was in a dream? Or was he pretending that he was in a dream? Ghosts certainly couldn't dream, nor sleep, so that meant that it was still trying to imitate Danny.

“I don't want to be your experiment again. I wanna wake up. Please let me wake up, Mom.” The look in those fiery green eyes was desperate. It's a facade, she reminded herself.

“I know you're not Danny,” she confirmed. “You can't fool me. You're just a ghost, pretending. If you don't leave Danny right now, I will make you leave.”

He took another two steps back, strategically putting more distance between the two of them. “Please, Mom... I wanted to tell you. I want to tell you so much, please don't do this to me. I don't want to be ripped apart again.” She was taken aback when tears obviously welled around the corner of his eyes. The ghost must have a very deep connection to Danny's body if it's able to provoke crying. She had to sever that connection before it permanently harmed Danny. “I don't want to be ripped apart again.”

The fake crying was finally what set her off. Maddie was done trying to negotiate with this thing. It was cruel, and it had the very audacity to use her son's body as a flesh puppet, only to act like she was the perpetrator, trying to make her believe that she was the one hurting her son. “Stop pretending to be my son!” she screamed.

He flinched away from her, feigning more false tears. “Can't I just wake up this time?”

There was a scuffling noise behind her, and Maddie turned defensively, ready to fight. Maybe it was a second ghost, maybe the ghost overshadowing Danny was just supposed to be a distraction! She kept an eye on Danny while she maintained a resistive stance towards the direction of the noise.

A new figure emerged from the darkness, descending from the stairs. Thankfully, Maddie took no time at all identifying her daughter's frantic sprint, and stopped herself  before she kicked Jazz in the chest.

“Mom,” Jazz breathed, weakly. Maddie realized she must have scrambled out of bed and ran down the stairs. “I heard screaming-”

Jazz's eyes curiously fell on Danny, who's green gaze was strewn with barely luminescent tears. He held his arms close to his chest and was breathing heavily, like air was a burden to him. Maddie watched in wonderment as Jazz's mouth fell open, establishing a firm determination in the young girl's stare. When Jazz walked past Maddie, opting to go towards Danny, Maddie was stupefied.

“Jazz, your brother is being overshadowed!” she warned. However, Jazz didn't seem to acknowledge that nor care. Instead, she approached Danny and comfortingly put an arm around him.

What...?

The ghost whispered something to Jazz, and Maddie swore she heard the word 'experiment'.

Jazz looked at Maddie coldly. “Mom,” she started, “how much do you know? What did you say to him?”

Why was Jazz humoring the ghost? Anybody could clearly see that Danny was overshadowed, so why was Jazz playing into it's hand? And why did Jazz look so... bitter towards Maddie?

Nonetheless, Maddie found herself answering her daughter honestly. “I – Danny's overshadowed by a ghost. At first it was just floating in the living room until I came down here, and now it's pretending that he's Danny in some sort of nightmare or something. I just, I'm trying to get it down to the lab for tests so I can get it out of Danny.”

“Nightmare?” Jazz repeated quietly. Maddie could almost see the cogs turning in Jazz's head as she reached some sort of enlightenment, prompting her to turn to the ghost. “Danny, look at me,” she said, softly. “It's Jazz. Everything's okay. You're not in a dream, you're awake. You were sleepflying again and mom saw you. This is all a misunderstanding, everything is alright. No one is going to experiment on you.”

Danny blinked the tears out of his eyes and looked at Jazz in shock. “What? This is actually happening? Jazz?”

The ghost had fooled Jazz. It was stringing her along, and despite Maddie's warning, Jazz was falling for every single move. She couldn't let that happen, she couldn't lose her daughter too.

“Jazz, get away from that ghost! It's using you!” she interrupted.

“This isn't a ghost, Mom!” Jazz argued. “This is Danny! He isn't overshadowed!”

“How do you know?” Maddie asked. None of this was making any sense.

“I just do,” Jazz said. “Look, this is Danny, and not some ghost. All the stuff you saw him do was him, not anything controlling him. Isn't that right?”

“Yeah,” Danny added, clearly too frightened to elaborate further.

“That – that's a lie,” Maddie decided. “People can't just float, Jasmine! I'm not an idiot.”

“People can't float, maybe, but ectoplasm can change a lot about an individual's capabilities,” Jazz said.

Was she saying that Danny... was contaminated? He wasn't overshadowed, but his body was tainted by himself?

“Are you saying that Danny's been poisoned by ectoplasm?” Maddie heard her voice crack and almost flinched.

“Look, Mom,” Jazz said quickly. “Danny hasn't been poisoned. Not overshadowed, not corrupted or anything. He's himself, and if there's a little ectoplasm in there, then – then it's a healthy amount. No need for any tests. You just gotta trust me Mom, okay? I promise that we've already made sure it can't hurt him, and that I monitor his mental state like a hawk. Can you just trust us and leave this alone for now? Please?”

“I'm fine,” Danny added.

They were making up lies, Maddie realized. There was something deeper here that they were attempting to cover up. There was something wrong with Danny, and both of her children were saying as much as they could to appease Maddie into a false security and to persuade her not to ask any questions. They were deliberately avoiding a confrontation in the lab, which suggested that medically, there was something that they didn't want Maddie to know about Danny. And it had something to do with ectoplasm and ghosts. Whatever was wrong with Danny, it gave him ghostly attributes, and that wasn't alright. She had to know what was going on with her children.

Maddie clenched her fist against her side, “I want the truth, now. Immediately, or I swear I will drag you down to the lab and find out myself, Daniel Fenton.”

Danny and Jazz looked at each other, sharing some kind of reluctant decision between them. She could see the vulnerability between her children, and the depth of their silent conversation did nothing to reassure Maddie's worries.

Jazz took a deep breath. “Danny has ghost powers,” she said with an unclouded finality. “The portal accident-” she recalled the incident, remembered Danny's skittishness and Sam and Tucker's assurances that everyone was okay, remembered how her scientific eagerness outweighed her parental concern,“-bonded ectoplasm to his DNA. It's not harming him, though, and we've figured out that getting rid of it would definitely kill him.”

Danny was slowly nodding, but Maddie couldn't bring herself to consider Jazz's words. Ectoplasm... bonded to him? There were many reasons why that should be impossible, since ectoplasm is, but not limited to: radioactive, toxic, and pretty much the anti-matter of all life. Beyond the theoretical realm, it would never be able to bond with someone's DNA without downright killing them first. Years ago, Maddie herself had conducted many different experiments examining that hypothesis,  and she had determined that ectoplasm was incompatible with all forms of cellular life. Vlad Masters was living proof for crying out loud! He suffered for years in the hospital after he was poisoned with ectoplasm, and now Danny and Jazz were trying to convince her that Danny was the exception? No, no she wouldn't fall for that.

“Ectoplasm can't coexist with living tissue,” she told them firmly.

Jazz continued to hold her arm around Danny, “It can, given the right... conditions.”

“No,” Maddie reiterated. “Ectoplasm can't bond with DNA because they're basically the opposite of each other. Humans can't have powers. The only way you'd have ectoplasm in you would be if you're contaminated or you're a ghost. And you're not a ghost, Danny.”

When she said the words, she didn't expect the reaction she got. Instead of another argument or half-explanation, Danny visibly swallowed and averted direct eye contact. Jazz acted in a similar manner, unable to bring herself to look Maddie in the eyes.

Maddie's mouth felt dry. “Danny?”

His answer was quiet, almost shameful, but he at least managed to look up. “I'm... part ghost,” the words sounded wrong coming from her teenage son, and she almost convinced herself that they were a figment of her imagination. “I'm still alive, I have functional organs, warm blood, and human brain, but I can... turn,” he said the word distastefully, as if he wasn't used to utilizing such a term, “to be like a - a ghost. My human and ghost sides overlap a lot, which is why my eyes are-” he gestured to his green eyes, “-like this, right now. Well, I mean normally I can control them, but at 3 AM it's hard to explain.”

“You're not a ghost though,” she said, simply. She couldn't... this wasn't making sense. At first they were saying it was just ectoplasm in his DNA, now they were expecting her to believe that Danny was some sort of what – a human-ghost hybrid? Alive but with some kind of permanent ghost attributes? It wasn't sensible, wasn't known, wasn't – wasn't-

“That's what I said, I'm part ghost. Not full,” the way that he said it suggested that admitting this was almost painful for him. “I have the abilities of a ghost.”

To be a ghost, but not completely dead? It was unorthodox, it was a preposterous idea, akin to something from science-fiction.

She clung to denial. “That can't be-”

“It's true, Mom,” Jazz interjected. “You saw him floating.”

She had seen him floating. And even now, his eyes reflected that eerie green haze. There had to be some other explanation, because she would by no means accept that her son was part ghost. Theoretically, the implications of being alive and dead in a single existence were terrifying, unknown and messy. She didn't want that kind of misery for Danny, she had to ensure that Danny wasn't part ghost, she had to achieve some conclusive source of evidence, and that meant....

“Let me run tests,” she said.

“No,” Danny said immediately, “no tests.”

“You definitely have ectoplasm in you, Danny,” she said. “You say you're 'part ghost', and that scares me. I have to find if you're right, and if so... I can't let you be that, I have to fix it.”

“Wha – what do you mean 'fix', Mom?” Danny's voice wavered. “There's no fixing this, we've... we've tried and getting rid of it will kill me!”

“I'm an ectologist, I'm pretty sure if anyone can fix it, I can,” she insisted. “Go down to the lab.”

“No, Mom! I'm this way, whether you like it or not! Don't you get it? What happened did happen, and I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life. I'm okay with it, I have to be, because there's no other option. I'm not going to be yo – your lab rat just to prove you wrong.”

“You don't know everything,” Maddie spat. “You are fifteen, Daniel. You're not the one who makes these decisions.”

“I've dealt with this for the past year, so I'm confident that I definitely know more about what I am than you. I get that you're having troubling understanding it, we can talk it out, but that doesn't mean that you have to experiment on me-”

“I never said experiment!”

“It always comes back to experiments,” Danny accused. “Especially with ghosts. I'm almost one, so don't you think I'm a little justified to be hesitant?”

Maddie's eyes glassed over. “Don't you dare say that,” she demanded.

Now Danny was confused. “Say what?”

“You're not almost a ghost,” Maddie whispered. “You're Danny. You have ectoplasm in you, but you're not almost... almost-”

“That's what this is all about, isn't it?” Jazz summed up. “You can't handle that he's part ghost. You want to run tests, and if Danny's too ghostly, you're going to try and 'fix' him. Because even being part ghost is too much for you to bear.”

“And can you blame me?” Maddie blurted. “I can't let my son be like that, like – like a ghost!”

“And what if you can't fix me?” he muttered. “What if you try everything and still can't?

“I won't let that happen. My son will not be a ghost.” She gripped Danny's arm, once again trying to direct them to the lab. She pulled on him, but despite her tight grip, he wouldn't budge an inch. She was so absorbed in this movement that she missed the look of fear cross across Danny's face, and almost missed seeing him vanish into the air, seconds after he slipped intangibly through her grip. Disappearing.

Jazz was the first to react, “Danny!”

Maddie's mind reeled at the unexpected disappearance, struggling to process what had just happened. “Wha-?” One moment Danny had been there, in her grip, and the next moment he was just gone! For the life of her, she couldn't piece together how that had happened. She wondered, was that... was that one of the ghost powers that Danny had mentioned? (But those powers still couldn't be real!)

“We have to fin him,” Jazz didn't allow much time for Maddie to dwell on her panicked realizations. She noticed that Jazz was also on edge, that she also hadn't actually expected Danny to straight  up fade into thin air.

“What do yo mean find him?” Jazz was talking like Danny had gone somewhere, like he had walked away. But he had completely disappeared. Despite her usual tactful reasoning skills, Maddie still couldn't understand most of this. “What happened?”

Jazz shot her an incredulous look, as if she should know the answer by now. This was all new territory for Maddie. Ghosts... ectoplasm... part-ghosts... refusing to go to the lab... powers.... So much had happened in just the past five minutes – how was she supposed to keep up?

“He used his powers to leave,” Jazz confirmed Maddie's dismissed suspicions. She looked over Maddie and decided something, And on second thought, I should be the one to look for him since he trusts me more. That and you still don't know about...” she trailed off again, before blinking rapidly and forcing herself to continue. “Alright, you stay here. If I don't return by sunrise, go to Sam and Tucker for help.”

She was slowly bringing herself to more conclusions, and this was starting to spiral out of control too quickly. “Jazz!” she protested as her daughter started to trek back upstairs, presumably to get something to aid her in her search. “That's crazy! You can't just go out in the middle of the night-”

“Well too bad,” Jazz shot back, putting the banister between her and Maddie. “I have to, because you scared my brother out there.” She didn't look back down as she practically sprang up the stairs. “Not going after him would be crazy. Protecting him is my responsibility, after all.”

Her words were simple, but she could hear the undertone of venom laced within Jazz's explanation. She disappeared up into her bedroom, and Maddie was left alone and astounded at the turn of events. Everything from the moment she saw Danny floating... to Jazz revealing that Danny had powers... to his reluctant admittance that he was part ghost... and to the moment she went too far, when she crossed the line of what Danny was apparently comfortable with. She still didn't want to believe that he was part ghost, she couldn't wrap her mind around it. But his disappearance... it was gradually assisting in convincing her.

That, and Jazz's harsh words still reverberated in her mind. Protecting him is my responsibility. Those words hurt the most; she was Danny's mother, she was supposed to be the one to protect both of her children, and from what she could see, she had failed. What mattered was that Danny had been tainted by ectoplasm, hurt by the nature of ghosts... no. Her invention, the Fenton Portal, was the thing that irreversibly imbued him with ectoplasm, and by his claims, he was unable to be fixed. And by that logic, since it had been her invention and lack of supervision, it was her fault. She had created the circumstances for what he was, some sort of in-between anomaly.

(No! What was she saying! Danny still isn't part ghost!)

She was still denying it, over and over, and she needed to conquer her denial. Even though she couldn't prove it in the sanctity of her lab, she had to trust that Danny and Jazz were telling the truth. And that's all that mattered now, because she had screwed everything up.

She was the one who told him that she wouldn't allow him to be part-ghost, which was what she unknowingly made him into. She was jagged and cruel and Danny was justified to use his... abilities to run from her. He was right to be afraid of her. Hell, she realized now, that when he had awoken, he had been convinced he was in a recurring nightmare. And his nightmare was her, he had begged her not make him her experiment again. He must have been bearing this burden and harboring this fear for how long and she just... rejected him? (It's common sense that you don't want your children to be part ghost, though! Fixing him is the easiest solution!)

Tears were welling in her eyes, and she didn't have enough awareness to blink them away. As if on autopilot, she slowly dragged herself back to the couch, and plopped down on it haphazardly. She placed her head on her knees, trying to condense her body to occupy as little space as possible. The question echoed over and over throughout her head as she cried into nothingness.

What had... what had she done?

Jazz found the Booomerang discarded in a spare drawer, threw it in the air, and followed it's trajectory. Instead of leading her outside though, it lead her to the Fenton Portal first, meaning that in order to follow it, she had to quickly start up the Specter Speeder without any preparation. She'd only flown it a handful of times, and at times the controls were frustrating, but it was operable nonetheless. She tracked the Booomerang through the portal and let it lead her to Danny, who had already fled deep within the ghostly dimension. She knew that if he really tried he could fly up to 200 mph, so she was a little anxious, since the Booomerang's maximum tracking speed was 10 mph, at most.

However, the search for Danny didn't take as long as she anticipated, and after half an hour she found Phantom huddled on a nearby floating rock. When he heard the telltale sound of the Speeder's engine, he looked up in a panic, but Jazz quickly turned on the intercom to reassure him, “It's just me!”

Seconds later the Booomerang threatened to smack him in the head, and he threw up a hand to catch it.

Almost immediately, his expression placated, but she could that there was still some weariness there. Just like she was afraid of; Maddie's words had really hurt Danny. He was absolutely dejected, and even though avoiding the issue sounded nice in theory, Jazz knew that he needed her as support. She wouldn't let Danny suffer through their Mother's mistake alone, they would reach an understanding with her, allow her to see that Danny's ghost-side wasn't something that needed to be 'fixed'. And then once they reached that point, they could tell her the rest, tell her about Phantom, but only when everyone was ready.

“Why'd you come after me?” Danny spoke, and the microphone outside the Speeder relayed his query. “Leave me alone, Jazz.”

“You really think I'm going to leave you alone? Now?” she asked. “After your little disappearing stunt?”

He was silent, and shifted uncomfortably on his rock. For about a minute, neither of them spoke, testing the unpleasant silence, as if to test who would break their previous reality first, see who would talk about what Maddie did.

Danny eventually buckled under the pressure. “She's gonna hurt me. She wants to get rid of Phantom,” he blurted.

“She doesn't know anything,” Jazz countered. “She hasn't seen enough of your powers to really know that you're not in danger. She cares about you. She was just jumping to conclusions. In fact, I think that your disappearance, maybe... helped her readjust some of her priorities.”

“That doesn't change the fact that she still doesn't want a ghost for a son. She said it herself. All I am is her biggest disappointment,” he muttered, hopelessly throwing his head down.

It was almost painful for Jazz, because everything in her was telling her to go and comfort him, but she couldn't. She couldn't leave the Specter Speeder, since neither Mom nor Dad had installed an autohover feature yet, meaning that she had to manually keep the vehicle in the air.

“No you're not, Danny,” she reassured.

“Yeah, I am, Jazz,” he mimicked. “She hates me now, and everything in my nightmares has come true. And I'll have to stay here alone for the rest of my half-life, because it I ever go back, she'll experiment on me for sure!”

“Not if I can help it,” she said.

“You barely stopped her from dragging me down to the lab tonight!” Danny yelled. “Face it Jazz, I'm not safe with her. I'm never going to be safe with someone who can't accept that I'm part-ghost. I mean, she doesn't even know that I'm Phantom, and she hates me this much already. I'm a hopeless case.”

“She never said that she hates you,” Jazz pointed out.

“That hate was already in her eyes. You didn't see her when I first woke up, Jazz. She was ready to kill me.”

“You're misinterpreting things, Danny.”

“Yeah? And you know everything since you're little Miss Psychoanalysis?” he asked sarcastically. “I can't go home, ever.”

“And what? You're just going to disappear in here forever? Leave Amity Park to fend for itself? Never see Sam or Tucker ever again? Never graduate or go to college?”

“I-”

“You can't disappear forever,” she continued.

“Then what do I do!” he screamed. He floated up from his rock and pointed accusingly at the Specter Speeder. “How am I supposed to deal with this!”

She took a deep breath and articulated her words evenly. “You come with me in the Speeder, we go home and sleep, and we talk about it with Mom and in the morning, and start everything afresh.”

“That's a horrible plan,” he stated.

“It's not,” Jazz said. “We can't just run away from her, because if we do that, she has even more reason to suspect that you're just some emotionless husk of ectoplasm. We have to face this, show her that even though you're part-ghost, that you're still the same you. And we'll make it clear that you, as her son, has boundaries.”

“That's giving her too much trust, though,” Danny looked down again. “What if – what if she does do something-”

“Then you can just disappear again,” Jazz said wryly. “You've made it clear that you're capable of that. But Danny... when I don't think that will be a problem. When I... left the house, I'm pretty sure I heard her crying before I came to get you. That at least means she regrets what she did.”

“Or maybe she was upset that I'm a nasty ghost,” Danny mumbled.

“We know Mom. It isn't like her to cry over a thing that's out of her control, however, she's much more likely to cry over something she directly caused,” Jazz paused. “I said some things to make her realize that it was her fault you left – so I have no doubt that she's guilty about it.”

“I... you're sure?” there was a certain vulnerability in his voice.

“Ninety-two percent, give or take,” she admitted. That seemed to be what made up his mind.

“... Can you turn off the Speeder's ghost shield for a second?”

She obliged, and seconds later Danny was by her side. He turned back human, and she switched the shield back on. The ride back to the portal was spent in silence, and normally, at this time of night both of them would've been fast asleep due to the lack of conversation. Both their minds were occupied with enough paranoia to keep them awake for the entire ride.

When they finally made it back home, it was somewhere around 5 AM, and they realized that Maddie had cried herself to sleep on the couch. They left her there undisturbed, afraid of waking her; neither of them wanted to really try speaking to her again until they were well rested.

The walk upstairs almost felt like some sort of premature acceptance of everything they would have to face tomorrow, realizing that these final hours of sleep would be their last moments of subterfuge; the morning would bring reckoning, and both of them would have to own up to the truth that they had revealed. It was almost surreal, those short moments before reaching their bedroom doors, and both of them reflected on the events that had occurred previously in the evening. However, their sleepy reveries were broken by the startling sound of toilet flushing.

Both children jumped at the unexpected noise, only to spot Jack stumbling out of the bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway. They were both greeted with the feeling of relief.

“Danny? Jazz?” he slurred, questioningly. The hallway was still dark, shrouding him in shadows.

Danny looked at his father cautiously, quietly asking him, “Dad, why're you up?”

Jack steadied himself against the wall, “I think... my fever broke,” he mumbled. “Wha-”

“That's good....” Jazz cut him off.

“Goodnight, Dad,” Danny said quickly, skittishly.

Even though this party was a thing to be commended, especially the decorations, Danny still couldn't help but regret coming. He was isolated, and he had only decided to come on a whim. Sure, he'd sort of been invited, but he wasn't exactly like the other ghosts there since he wasn't a part of legitimate ghost society and was technically half-human.

Hell, he didn't even see Johnny 13 and Kitty anywhere, who were the ones responsible for even telling him about it in the first place.

It'd been a regular school day and a regular day of ghost fights. The rebellious couple had managed to drag themselves out of the Ghost Zone again, this time by the skin of their teeth, much to Danny's irritation. They supposedly were out on a date at the roller rink, but by the end of the day, it turned into a catastrophic disaster for the other skaters, who thanks to Shadow, ended up falling into a giant crevice in the urethane coated floor. The roller rink wasn't close enough to Casper High for Danny to be alerted by his ghost sense, but one of the victims ended posting something on Snapchat and word traveled around the school quickly. From there, Danny managed to maneuver his way out of class through Mr. Lancer and went to resolve Johnny and Kitty's mess.

It was kind of a dull fight, to be honest. They had left the roller rink and had flown somewhere over near Sam's house. Kitty was mostly at the sidelines, apathetic because Shadow had already ruined her date and she had nothing to care about anymore. Johnny, on the other hand, was taking the fight slowly, slow enough that their 'banter' eventually regressed into a droll conversation.

“Wait,” Danny lazily dodged a punch from Shadow, “so if you guys have an ice rink in the Ghost Zone why'd you come here for a date?”

“Because we know all the people there,” Kitty rolled her eyes from the sidelines, “and they're all total buzz-kills. That, and they never play good music there – they always play 1890's ragtime music! At least here they play modern shit.”

“Don't even get me started on the fucked up rules they have at the rink either. They make everyone who died after 1958 wear knee-pads!” Johnny groaned. “I'm not a child! Just because I died less than forty years ago doesn't mean I'm gonna injure myself!”

Danny threw an ectoblast at Johnny's shoulder, barely grazing him. “Wow...” Danny laughed. “That's messed up.”

“Tell me about it,” Johnny muttered. He commanded Shadow to punch Danny again. “If any of the older ghosts had their way, they'd probably mandate some kind of baby-care for all of us younger ghosts.”

“Actually, I think Walker petitioned that about ten years ago,” Kitty said. “The Observants still have it hanging in the air, but since they literally sit on their asses for ninety-nine years per century, it's not gonna pass anytime soon.”

Danny laughed, holding up a shield against Shadow. “Oh my Ancients, if they forced all the kid ghosts to go to school I'd lose like half of my enemies right there.”

“I mean, they'd probably try to force you to go too,” Johnny pointed out. “They don't really discriminate about how much you qualify as a ghost.”

“Pft, they'd try,” Danny replied smugly, finally pushing Shadow away, “but they've already tried to kill me and failed at that, so I doubt they'd get me to go to another school.”

“Oh man,” Kitty realized, “that's right, you still go to that awful human school. Man, that's gotta suck. The one week I went there I wanted to gouge everyone's eyes out and use them as stress balls.”

“I mean, that's what it was like when we went to school,” Johnny added. “Well, I mean when we weren't playing hooky, riding around town, sneaking into bars, and giving no shits.”

“We always have been the life of the party,” Kitty shrugged. “Couldn't stop us from being wild then, can't stop it now.”

Danny scoffed, “What party? All you guys literally do is come into the human world and do what every living teenager does on a daily basis. That's not really that 'wild'.”

“You don't know that this is all we do,” Johnny spat defensively, throwing an ectoblast himself this time.

“Yeah,” Kitty said, eyes flaring a little, “we like, go to parties and stuff.”

“Parties? There's parties in the Ghost Zone?” he asked. Sure, he knew about the Christmas Truce, but he assumed that the Ghost Zone was so anarchic most of the time that it'd be difficult to really plan an organized event.

Johnny chuckled, dodging another stray ectoblast, “Wow, you really don't know anything, do you?”

“Wherever there's teenagers, there's parties,” Kitty explained, “it can't be helped. And then there's always the mainstream parties that everyone goes to, like the Harvest next week.”

“Oh man,” Johnny said, “I forgot about that. So, we're going this year? I don't think we've done it in a few years, right?”

“Eh, it's the biggest party of the year. Why not?” Kitty decided.

“Wait, what's this Harvest thing?” Danny inquired.

“Oh!” Kitty exclaimed, “You've got to come! Oh my Ancients, how come nobody has invited you yet?”

Now Danny was confused. Him? At a ghost party. “Huh?”

“It's pretty much mandatory for all new ghosts,” Johnny explained, “one of our most sacred traditions. You have to go within your first five years of dying or like... you're a total dipshit.”

Shadow threw another punch, and Danny blocked it.

“Socially speaking, it's extremely important and it kind of baptizes you into being accepted into ghost civilization,” Kitty contributed.

“But what is it though?” Danny asked again.

“Okay, so you know in the human world, you guys have like Thanksgiving? It's a little bit like that, but with a lot more partying-”

“I think Mardi Gras would be a better example-” Johnny interrupted.

“No, no,” Kitty corrected, “Mardi Gras is just full on partying. Harvest is an acceptance ceremony with partying.”

“That's true, Princess. But your first description of it earlier was better. It's pretty much just ghost baptism, but it has food, music, and dancing,” Johnny concluded.

“Yeah, that's about right,” Kitty nodded. She turned back to Danny, “It's really fun.”

“I don't really do parties, though,” he protested. “And I'm a halfa, so I don't really get why ghost society is really important for me.”

She sighed, “Look, Phantom, you are a ghost, even if not wholly. And this is a tradition for all ghosts, so it's not like you have a reason not to go, right?”

“Plasmius goes every few years,” Johnny added, “so it's not weird.”

“Ew. I don't want to go if he goes,” Danny frowned.

“I doubt he'll be there,” he shrugged. “His reputation has kind of plummeted since the Pariah Dark incident.”

“What about my reputation?” Danny asked. “I mean, I'm always fighting you guys.”

“Nah, that's not as serious,” Kitty reassured. “We know you only do that to protect your haunt, so nobody'll hold that against you.”

Finally, with much reluctance, Danny gave in. “So if I decide to go, only if, when is it?”

He got the information, expecting to forget about the party until he changed his mind at the last minute and decided to give Harvest a chance. And now he was there in the animated horde of eager party-goers, completely uneasy and experiencing ridiculous amounts of social discomfort. He didn't belong there, he wasn't an actual ghost, and unlike the energetic spirits around him, he didn't have many ghost friends.

He continued to aimlessly float throughout the crowd as he contemplated just going home. It was a Friday night so if he left now there was still a possibility that he could have a movie night with Sam and Tucker. He wouldn't even have to ask his parents since his parents thought he was over at Tucker's house for the night anyway. All he would have to do is just get out of this crowd and find his way back to the Fenton Portal...

“-eyy, Phantom! You actually made it!” someone behind him laughed. Like everyone else, they were speaking in Ghost Speak, but Danny's mind didn't take long to process the translation since the language was something that every ghost innately knew.

He took a moment to orient himself in the air, having to dodge a few elbows here and there as he turned around to see who was talking to him. Johnny and Kitty hovered casually, seemingly composed and collected as opposed to some of the other overzealous ghosts who were already flying around screaming. To Danny's surprise, both undead teenagers had dressed in accordance of the occasion, wearing apparel that reflected the festivity of Harvest. Johnny had traded in his gray leather for a black one and instead of his normal white t-shirt, he wore an orange shirt with a silhouette of a skull on it. Kitty, on the other hand, had opted for a more flashy outfit and wore a bright purple leather jacket with a matching skirt; an orange and green ombré crop top; orange stocks with purple skulls; some short, black platform boots; her usual green necklace and purple scarf.

Behind Johnny and Kitty there was another ghost in their group, and when Kitty moved a foot to the right, Danny was surprised to see that it was Ember. Unlike Kitty, she was wearing just her normal outfit with the exception of an orange choker.

“Yeah,” Danny replied, also in Ghost Speak, “I managed to come.”

“To be honest I thought you were just going to ditch it,” Johnny said.

“So did I,” he admitted. “I only came last minute. Parties aren't really my thing.”

“Well,” Ember butted in, “this is a lot better than a party, I'll tell you that. Just wait until they start with the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” he asked. He didn't remember Johnny and Kitty mentioning anything like that, though, they had said that it was a sacred tradition integral to ghost society.

Ember laughed, turning to Johnny and Kitty. “Oh? You guys didn't explain the historical importance of Harvest to him? Oh my Ancients, this is going to be hilarious.”

“Well,” Kitty said, “it's kind of customary to keep newbies out of the loop of things. Makes it all more fun.”

“True,” Ember commended. “I never got to be a part of the initiation ceremony. I think the first Harvest I attended was fifteen years ago when someone asked me to perform for it. Now, this is just one of my annual gigs.”

“Wait, what ceremony?” Danny backtracked.

“You'll find out soon enough,” Johnny replied cryptically. “They round up all of the newly dead in the Onyx Platform, which is this closed off, raised area in the center of the party. They do the ceremony there, which is the 'official' party starter.”

“Hold up, you mean I have to go there?”

“Well, yeah,” Ember rolled her eyes. “You are newly dead. You're less than five years fresh, so that means you qualify.”

“So, you won't tell me what it is?” he asked hopefully.

All three of the other teen ghosts grinned, “Nope.”

Danny groaned. The new knowledge that was going to have to participate in some kind of ceremony that no one would tell him anything about presented some unavoidable anxiety. Now that they were here leaving was unavoidable and from their current giddiness, he could tell that there was no way he could get out of this 'ceremony' easily.

“Great,” he muttered. He decided to change the subject, “So Ember... you said you're performing tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded. “I play every year. I get to share the stage with a bunch of old fuckers who think that classical piano and the bagpipes are still the hottest shit around. I'm the only one here who actually knows how to play rock 'n' roll, so watch out for my performance.”

“That reminds me,” Kitty said. “Are you playing “Betray Me in the Catacombs” tonight? Because if you are, can you do the English version instead, because the translation for that version is so much more expressive than the Qiexoar.” (Qiexoar, the official name for Ghost Speak.)

“The music director's gonna hate it since we try to keep things understandable for the entire audience, but I really don't give a shit about what he shoves up his ass since he's a verified lemurfucker.” She smirked, “So sure, I'll do the English version for you, Kitty.”

Kitty smirked, “Thanks, Em.”

“I don't think I've heard any of your songs in Qiexoar,” Danny realized. “Actually, I don't think I've heard anything else besides “You Will Remember”.”

She gaped at him, “How fucking dare you? I mean, haven't you listened to my CD?” He crossed his arms, “Where was I supposed to get it? There's only a few copies out in the human world.” “That's not an excuse!” her hair mildly flared. “Technus put all of my songs on YouTube!” “Not since Tucker hacked in and deleted Technus's account!” Danny argued.

“WHAT!” she yelled. “I'm going to kill your friend! First he – he fucks up my concert! And then he takes my music down from the Internet!”

Johnny whispered to Kitty, “Babe, this is more entertaining than anything I imagined. We need to hang out with Phantom more.”

“I know,” she giggled.

“Technus uploaded videos that were brainwashing seven-year-olds!” he argued. “We had to!”

“Children can't fully grow up until the Internet traumatizes them!” she declared. “The Internet's only been around for fifteen years and even I know that!”

“They weren't traumatized! They were forming a cult! Do you know-”

“Attention.” A disembodied voice reverberated throughout the crowd of ghosts, instantly rendering most conversations to silence. “All newly dead need to assemble in the Onyx Platform, which is located 200 meters in front of the stage. All unqualified loiterers will be removed from the platform.”

“Well,” Johnny turned to Danny, “that's your cue.” Danny was caught off guard. He was still nervous about the enigmatic ceremony and hadn't had enough time to mentally prepare for whatever unknown task awaited him. The others had made it seem humiliating and he wasn't looking forward to it.

“Right now?” he asked, slightly stupefied.

“Yes, dipshit,” Ember's mood had seemed to simmer back into its regular condescension in opposition to her momentary rage. She grabbed Danny's shoulders, turned him facing eastwards, and pushed him. “Now go.”

“Have fun,” Kitty laughed. “Be sure to lose yourself a little; that's the best part.”

“Uh...” he was unsure of how to reply. “Maybe?”

He waved the trio goodbye and followed the movement of the other ghosts around him, all of whom appeared to be modern ghosts like him. Some of them were young and some of them were older, and also like him, most of them were all around confused. It was good to know that he and the other newly dead were sort of in the same boat, but it didn't make this any less nerve-wracking.

Finally, Danny reached the densest part of the crowd which was concentrated around some kind of barricaded stage made of black stone. The Onyx Platform, Danny realized. Once he had pushed through to the border of the platform, he realized that there was some kind of force field that prevented just anyone from getting in. He cautiously tried to fly through the transparent force field but it wouldn't budge, thoroughly keeping him out. Puzzled, he looked around to see if anyone else could get it, until he saw that every few yards there were uniformed ghosts, almost like bouncers, manning the border and allowing ghosts to cross into the platform.

Danny approached the nearest bouncer; a lanky, green-skinned ghost wearing a plain black outfit; and hovered there awkwardly. The bouncer looked Danny over with dull red eyes and sighed. “Hold out your arm,” he recited.

Danny refrained from immediate conformity. “Why?” he asked instead.

The bouncer patiently explained, “I need skin contact in order to evaluate your core's age, that way I can tell if you're new enough to qualify or not.”

So, Danny complied and allowed the bouncer to check his core. He held his arm firmly, and gradually increased the tightness of his grip. Eventually, after about twenty seconds, the bouncer gasped and let go.

“There has to be some mistake,” he determined. “Yo – you – Impossible.”

“What?” Danny asked.

“You're still alive,” the bouncer's eyes widened. “I can feel that you've died recently but even still....”

Danny laughed nervously. He should've figured that something like this would come up. “Yeah, I'm a halfa. I died over a year ago, so I had some people tell me that I had to do this.”

“Halfa?” the bouncer whispered. “I thought that was a legend. No way... to be like us but also human, Ancients....”

Danny was already aware that he was freakishly abnormal, even on ghost standards, so while it didn't really bother him, he still didn't want to be reminded. At least the guy wasn't cursing at him or anything, so it could be worse. He fidgeted uncomfortably and decided to skip to the point. “So, does that mean I can't get in?”

“I – uh...” the bouncer froze. “I don't think it's a problem?” Without warning, he grabbed Danny's arm again and drew some kind of holographic symbol on his suit with ectoplasm.

Danny looked at it in surprise, “Wha-”

“That lets you get in,” he explained. “You can fly through the barrier now.”

Danny took his word and flew forward, passing through the force field like it wasn't even there. When he first crossed over into the exclusive area, he noticed other ghosts giving him sideways glances, like they wanted to approach him but were keeping his distance. He didn't understand why until he realized that some of the other ghosts had probably heard what the guard had said and they were trying to determine if he was actually a halfa or were simply just baffled. He tried to ignore all of their looks by keeping his head up high and appearing confident despite his current lack of bravery and itching desire to turn invisible.

As the minutes passed, ghosts crossed through the boundary in trickles, filling up the empty space over the Onyx Platform with more occupancy. If Danny had to estimate, there were probably at least five thousand ghosts at the party total and only about a hundred or so had entered the platform. One hundred ghosts alone seemed like a lot, but in comparison to all of the other specters out there, they were an insignificantly outnumbered group.

“Gather 'round,” the voice from earlier returned, however now it sounded more close and much less echoey. The ghosts around Danny began moving toward the center of the platform, spreading out to form a circle around something. He wedged himself in between a college-aged girl with dark blue skin and headphones around her neck, and an older man wearing a foreign military uniform. Now he could see that in the center of the ring that they had formed was a ten foot tall, hooded figure floating over a pedestal and surrounded by uniformed servants.

“To begin,” the figure spoke, emulating the disembodied voice, “you must all drink the Elixir of Allegiance, and then I will explain this sacred ceremony to all of you young souls that the Ghost Zone has just recently embraced. Tonight, you will be officially accepted into the layered society of your ancestors, into this realm that hosts your depraved essences and allows you to wield its power. But before you may be educated, you must drink.”

The servants rose from around the hooded figure, and Danny realized that they all were carrying platters of glasses. One of the servants descended in front of him and held out the platter of cups, offering him a glass of a runny, orange liquid. Danny was getting bad vibes from this whole

'drink and learn' thing, so he was reasonably reluctant when he accepted the cup of the mysterious orange fluid. He swiveled the cup in front of his face, letting the drink slosh around in its cup, allowing him to observe what it could be. Hadn't the hooded ghost said that it was... the Elixir of Allegiance? Honestly, that sounded pretty sketchy.

The ghosts around him began to drink their own glasses, and even though Danny wasn't the only one who appeared skeptical, most of the ghosts just decided that it was just best to do as the hooded figure said. Cautiously, Danny sniffed the orange drink and to his surprise, it actually smelled good. In fact... it smelled eerily familiar, almost like the purified ectoplasm Danny had learned to eat whenever his ghost-side got hungry every few weeks.

With that in mind, maybe there wasn't any real harm in drinking it. Or maybe the scent of ectoplasm had aroused his more primitive hunger.

Nevertheless, Danny brought the cup to his lips and drunk the orange liquid in a single swallow. It tasted cold, sweet, succulent, and slightly spicy – which was a strange but somehow a delicious combination. Immediately, he was overwhelmed with a flush of good energy; the lingering soreness he typically carried had vanished and his unavoidable sleep deprivation ebbed into nothing. Whatever was in that drink made Danny feel restored and strong, and he could sense his emotional strife melting into subtle blissful. He also subconsciously noticed that something changed in his core, something giddy yet comforting, but he didn't see a reason to dwell on it.

There was another less obvious sensation that Danny couldn't place until he looked up and noticed the other ghosts. Everyone's eyes, be it green or red, had spontaneously adopted a striking orange hue – the same orange that they had drank from the liquid. Intrigued, Danny brought his hand up to his face and saw that there was an orange glow on his glove instead of his eyes' normal green light.

The girl with the headphones next to him seemed to realize the same thing about herself. “Huh?” she whispered.

“You have all drank,” the hooded figure declared. “The Elixir of Allegiance has bonded you to this ceremony and now none of you shall deny the actions of this tradition without its painful consequence. Its intent is to see that you all participate and to increase the sensation of pleasure from the ceremony, to satisfy all of you in your personal highs.”

Wait... was he implying that the orange stuff had been some sort of ghost drug that would hurt them if they didn't comply?

“Now, since the tradition of the Harvest is usually kept secret from you newly dead, most of you are probably wondering this ceremony entails. Well, to understand the ceremony, you must first understand the history behind the Harvest. We as ghosts are granted existence by the Ghost Zone and in return, we are appreciative to the Ghost Zone for allowing us to exist past our expired lives on Earth. However, being a ghost is a privilege, and in order to stay strong, we all have to sacrifice a part of ourselves, a part of our sensibility. Meaning that the Ghost Zone demands the slaughter and feeding of our own kind so that the strongest may prevail; we have to eat other ghosts in order to survive in this plane.”

This was something that Danny knew and had found an alternative route. Sure, since he was a halfa he ate human food most of the time and only had to deal with his ghost hunger every once in a while or whenever his core got too weak. He had probably been a ghost for about six months when he first experienced the hunger, and at the time he hadn't known what was happening or how to stop it.

He had starved for days until something inside of him snapped and he attempted to eat the first ghost that he could get his hands on. Attempted. Thankfully, Jazz had trapped him in the thermos before he went completely psychotic and killed (twice-killed?) Klemper for no reason. Before she let him out of the thermos, Jazz had asked his parents a few uncomfortable questions about ghost food and learned that they needed to eat the ectoplasm in other ghosts to exist. So, when she finally let him out of the thermos (which was absolutely agonizing) she made sure that he had some purified ectoplasm from the portal to eat.

It wasn't something Danny liked to think about since it was a dehumanizing and embarrassing urge that he couldn't get rid of. Eating other ghosts was just wrong on so many levels. Morally, he didn't even know how he could come to terms with it. So he regularly just dissociated and ignored that part of himself, and made sure that he always ate enough purified ectoplasm the moment he felt that otherworldly hunger.

The hooded ghost continued, “The slaughter is within us all, and it makes us twisted, barbaric, and relentless whenever we are hungry. And since it is a part of us, we enjoy this slaughter. Our society is built on the agreement that eating your own kind in order to survive isn't something that should be feared nor is it shameful. Eating other ghosts is something that must be done and something that should be normalized.”

The girl next to Danny whispered, “No.” He couldn't help but agree. This wasn't going anywhere good and he was starting to get scared.

“However, you, our youngest ghosts, often have trouble accepting this facet of our culture. Since many of you are neutral souls you reject the idea of normalized slaughter and refuse to feed. Refusing to feed is frowned upon since you can harm yourself and those important to you whenever you decide to starve yourself. I know that some of you have fed on ghosts before and some of you have not, because feeding is only a necessity for those over three-years-dead or for those with stronger cores.”

Danny was anticipating what the hooded figure was leading up to and was disappointed when he actually said it.

“But tonight, you will all learn to accept your barbaric nature, your gluttonous desire to feed on those weaker than you, because without this desire you would not be able to exist. This is the ceremony of the Harvest. We will provide sufficient food for you to harvest upon and you will feed. This tradition has been carried out for millenniums in the Ghost Zone, and now it is your turn to partake in it.”

There was some clamoring all throughout the Onyx Platform; while some ghosts appeared vaguely unperturbed, others shared Danny's repulsed objection.

“To make your acceptance easier,” the hooded ghost spoke easily over the protesting newly deads, “might I remind you that the Elixir of Allegiance guarantees that you can't back out otherwise you will experience pain. However, as I mentioned earlier, it will grant you special enjoyment and pleasure in your feeding, allowing you to understand the thrill of what's inside you. Additionally, it will protect you from one other, making sure that you will eat your designated feast rather than being enticed by each other. So you don't have to worry about another ghost eating you since the elixir within you deters their attraction to you. And lastly, the elixir makes you extra hungry.”

The servants from earlier intangible rose through the platform's floor and this time they were all maneuvering a large crate together. They dropped it onto the Onyx Platform and without any further ado the hooded figure snapped his fingers and the crate broke open. There were dozens, possibly hundreds of small, green ghost blobs the size of footballs that escaped the crate – bouncing out of their entrapment with hopeless ignorance.

“Let the Harvest begin!”

The ghost blobs (squishy and moist with ectoplasm just gushing inside them) were like sheep that had been released into a den of hungry lions, who in this case were the newly dead ghosts. Some of the ghosts lost themselves immediately, and snatched the non-sentient blob ghosts from the air and bit into them with animalistic ferocity. Wet ectoplasm floated loosely in the air, which vaguely reminded Danny of videos he'd watched of astronauts pouring water while aboard the International Space Station. The ectoplasm that the blobs were bleeding was so captivating and... delicious, that Danny was so tempted to just sink his own teeth into one of the nearby blobs. He really, really wanted to eat them and Ancients was he hungry.

Yet, he restrained himself. He refused from participating in this immoral slaughter. Even though the hooded ghost had claimed that this was an essential part of the ghost society, that ghosts couldn't survive without eating other ghosts, Danny knew that he could survive without giving into his innate gluttony.  He was half human, and he wouldn't allow himself to lose sight of his human morals. He wouldn't be a cannibal, nor would relish in devouring something that was mobile and could scream in pain. While Danny knew that ghost blobs couldn't think or do anything than stupidly float around, it was still wrong to eat them and force them to experience the pain of being torn apart.

But he was starving and his morals were wearing thin compared to the incessant desire he had to kill the blobs. Actually, his hunger was becoming painful now and – and his stomach felt like actual fire. The burning was sharp and hot and it inflicted sensations that surpassed the pain capacity of normal hunger. The flames were licking the inside of his organs, dangerously warming his ectoplasmic blood and possibly harming his human half.

This was the elixir's punishment for refusing to feed – it was slowly killing him from the inside and it would only cease if he abandoned his reservations and joined the Harvest.

Now, most of the other orange eyed ghosts had committed to the elixir's internal torture and let their hunger consume them as they consumed the blobs, reveling in the absolute high they gained from their flavorful slaughter. It was hurting Danny so much that he couldn't bear it anymore, paying such a simple price seemed like a bargain if it meant he was saved from this merciless fire. And with that, the final strands of his self-control slipped out of his grip, and his gluttonous desires occupied the forefront of his mind.

He grabbed one of the screeching blobs that was flying at a drowsy pace and bit it in half in one bite. Ectoplasm spewed out of its body when he tore into it, but Danny didn't care. Frankly, the fact that it was still moving around his mouth when he was trying to chew it didn't even bother him. Instead, Danny focused on its divine flavor, which was more layered than anything he had ever tasted; it's mushy and juicy texture that rewarded him with the satisfaction of savoring every bite; and how it's coldness delightfully caressed his tongue, like he was eating the world's fleshiest ice-cream.

And when Danny finally swallowed his first bite, the fire inside of him was extinguished and replaced with a cool exhilaration. It was then that he realized that he needed to feed more. Because feeding felt nice. And the hooded ghost from earlier had been right, this was not shameful. This was pure ecstasy, and Danny would not prefer it any other way.

Once he had finished devouring his first blob he didn't waste any time tearing into his next prey or his third, fourth, or fifth one. His head swarmed with pleasant sensations that he hadn't known were possible to experience. Why hadn't he wanted to do this? The comfort of bliss outweighed the vindication he would find in his loose morals.

In the distance, beyond the tiny shrieks of the scared ghost blobs, he could hear familiar music that he couldn't place – but he could tell that it was in his first language, which was startlingly difficult for his brain to translate because he had been speaking in Qiexoar all night. The English words hung in the air and Danny managed to vaguely process them and realized that it was some kind of rock song about betrayal and cheating. The meaning of the lyrics didn't really resonate with him, but it had a nice rhythm.

It was due to this that he found himself dancing around the other ghosts, everyone harmoniously lost in their own feast as they consumed vigorously, relishing the high they got from slaughtering. Semi-aware of the other orange-eyed ghosts around him, he noticed that every once in a while, some ghosts would fight over an especially fat blob and Danny couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle.

He licked the ectoplasm off of his lips, picked out another blob, and piteously ripped it apart like the many he had eaten before.  Each blob had a slightly different flavor and he wanted to sample as many different tastes as he could before the night ended. This particular blob's ectoplasm tasted sweet yet bitter in Danny's mouth, and he slurped it until it was all gone. He continued to eat as much as he pleased, even though his hunger had long subsided, and he was only eating for the sole enjoyment of eating.

Danny and the other newly dead only started to slow down after an hour or so of the Harvest. Some ghosts' eyes were beginning to return to their natural colors, and some ghosts were falling into dormancy (the spectral equivalent of unconsciousness), which meant that they idly would hover in one spot until they woke up. Danny recognized that the frenzy around him was starting to subside, and fought against it; he didn't want this euphoria to end.

Be sure to lose yourself a little; that's the best part, Kitty had told him.

If this is losing everything, then I never want to come back, he thought hazily.

He tore into another blob, letting his primal urge to feed guide him. The blob throbbed against him and he gurgled it in his mouth as he laughed at its hopeless defiance. He was stronger, and it was just his food. Of course, he didn't care about its pain.

Danny's eyes were starting to grow heavy, and he could feel that the energy permitting him to fulfill his primitive yearnings was starting to fade. And even though he still didn't want to surrender the thrill that he had found within himself, he knew that exhaustion was winning. The elixir was coaxing him to crash as much as it had energized him.

And before Danny knew it, he felt the familiar warm feeling of his transformation, causing him to turn human and pass out on the spot. The few other ghosts in the Onyx Platform who were still awake marveled at Danny's transformation before disregarding it as a dream and slipping into their own dormant states.

Danny wasn't awake, but something in him recognized the sensation of being carried, and he leaned into his unknown helpers' soft, cold grip. His mind drifted, mostly unaware, but listening.

“We can't just leave him floating around the Zone in his human form, Johnny,” that voice was warbled and feminine, and his mind couldn't fully comprehend her language since Qiexoar was always more difficult to understand when he was Fenton. “Some perverted freak like Skulker could find him in less than an hour and they'd try to skin him alive or something.”

“But do we actually have to go through the portal, babe?” a second voice asked. “What if his psycho parents try to kill us? Shadow's with the bike so what would we do then?”

“Neither of us are helpless suck it up.”

There was some sort of whirring noise and the air transitioned from cold and dry to warm and temperately more humid. Something smelled familiar, and like chemicals, ectoplasm, and childhood.

“Which way is his room? I'd hate to give the sister a scare and have to face that bitch again,” the second voice mumbled.

And then, there was the comforting feeling of laying on something tangible and fluffy. The two other presences vanished, and Danny fell back into his (half) dead slumber.

The next morning, Danny woke up in his own bed, without the damnedest idea how he had managed to fly himself back there. But then, he noticed someone else had taken the time to tuck him into his sheets, and grew even more confused. He felt refreshed, which was a nice break from how he normally felt when he woke up. Simultaneously, he also realized that he felt... sticky for some reason? Wait, no, he remembered why he was sticky – the ectoplasm that he'd eaten was all over his skin. Eaten. Something in the pit of his stomach dropped when he processed exactly what he had done the previous night; he remembered everything up until the moment he passed out and couldn't help but feel... not embarrassed but mystified.

Eating ghosts wasn't something he'd ever thought he would let himself enjoy, especially since he had moral objections against it. But the ceremony last night had... eased him of a lot of his shame about it. Cannibalism was supposed to be wrong, but in ghost society, it had to be normalized because it was the only way they could survive. Yeah, remembering what he had done was weird and disorienting, and he knew that by human standards it was wrong. But as a ghost, cannibalism was accepted, so therefore it wasn't wrong by ghost standards. And last night he hadn't been human, nor was he even wholly human in the first place....

There was no doubt that tearing apart those blobs was nothing less than savage, but if he could contain his barbaric desires, would that make it okay to occasionally indulge in them? After all, ghost hunger belonged to ghosts, and even though he wasn't proud of it, he wanted to experiment with it again. He had liked it.

Danny threw his covers off himself and walked across his room so he could look in the mirror. He was still covered head to toe in ectoplasm, making him look like he had walked under a green paint-can. Unfortunately, it was all over his clothes, so that meant that he'd probably have to throw this specific outfit away because ectoplasm stained like hell and he didn't have enough resourcefulness to remove it all, even with the perk of intangibility. Danny sighed and decided to take a shower before any of his family barged in his room and saw him like this.

Sure, Danny was someone Mikey had known all of his life, and throughout the years, they were initially on good terms. But now he regrets that he never really got to be close with him, because now that everyone knows he's Phantom, it's like his friend group is extremely closed off. Everyone is a fan, meaning that there's a lot of competition for his attention, so even when it's people Danny has known all his life, he's not going to get close to someone new very easily, because chances are, he's aware that in the minds of many of them, he's just some celebrity. And if there's one thing that's been made clear since the reveal, Danny isn't exactly comfortable with his constant fame. Therefore, Mikey's just as distant from Danny as everyone else in Casper High; sure, they both know each other, but Danny is still a world away.

Mikey couldn't be one of Danny's best friends. And he still wanted to be exactly like Danny. At the beginning of Junior year, about six months after the reveal, Mikey couldn't bear it any longer. He'd become the same as Danny, because deep down, Mikey just needed the clarification that he could be a hero too. So that meant that Mikey had to figure out how to get powers, which was definitely the most difficult part about becoming a superhero.

He knew that Danny been made into Phantom through some accident in his parents' lab. Publicly, that was the only information anyone had about how he had become half-ghost, so there wasn't a lot for Mikey to go on. However, Mikey was smart, he knew how to read in between the lines. He didn't need to know what kind of accident Danny was in, nor what invention had turned him into Phantom. The answer was simple, and it was there all along: ectoplasm.

All ghosts were made of ectoplasm, right? And from common knowledge about ghost weaponry, Mikey knew that most of the Fentons' inventions functioned by using ectoplasmic power. Therefore, one would assume, that some kind of invention safely introduced ectoplasm into Danny's body through an accident, permanently altering him, and turning him into a half-ghost hybrid. So with that information, all Mikey had to do was figure out how to get enough ectoplasm into his body to turn him half-ghost without killing him first.

He thought about it for a while and did some research about the risks of ectoplasmic poisoning. There weren't many articles about it anywhere, and the only known case Mikey could really find was Vlad Masters... who, 'ding ding ding!', also ended up becoming a half-ghost. Except, unlike Danny, he suffered a condition called 'ecto-acne' for many years, before making some kind of miraculous recovery, checking himself out of the hospital, and almost instantly becoming rich. At the time, most people assumed that Vlad had earned his fortune by making some well-placed deals with CEOs and other millionaires, but ever since the truth had been exposed, everyone knew that Vlad had used his powers to steal that money.

Vlad Masters was the case that proved that Mikey could accomplish turning himself into a ghost hybrid by slowly exposing his body to ectoplasm. It didn't kill Vlad, so if Mikey did it carefully, then what were the chances that it would kill him? Mikey was smart, he would know if he got in over his head. Besides, all he had to do was find a way to obtain ectoplasm and then gradually condition his body to accept it.

So, just like that, Mikey embarked on a mission to find out where to find or buy ectoplasm. However, much to his annoyance, ectoplasm wasn't just something that you could find on Amazon very easily. He had to do some deep digging, without raising suspicion, and even then, Mikey found nil. So he turned to his next option; he'd ask someone who was experienced with ectoplasm. He needed someone who was close to Danny, but someone that Mikey who could still approach without any awkwardness. And that person just happened to be none other than Tucker Foley.

"Hey, Tucker," Mikey put on a false smile, cornering the tech-laden boy near his locker. Sam was with him today, but she didn't seem to acknowledge Mikey's presence. Actually, the black circles under her eyes today looked less like a fashion statement, and more like a concerning lack of sleep. He'd heard that she'd been going on more patrols with Danny lately, but he didn't really realize that they made a person that exhausted.

"Oh," Tucker turned to him, "hi, Mikey. What's up?"

"I – uh, I was just wondering if I could ask you a question. It's kind of for an experiment, and I guess I know that you'd know about it so..."

"Sure," he shrugged. "What kind of experiment? What d'you need?"

"I was thinking about doing something with ectoplasm. Nothing much, really, just to test out different properties and compare them. But... I don't really know anywhere to get it..."

Tucker blinked as if he was trying to make sure that he'd heard Mikey correctly. "Ectoplasm?"

"Uh, yeah," Mikey fidgeted. "You guys are pretty much the experts with that stuff, and I didn't really know who else to ask-"

"Mikey," he interrupted. "You realize that stuff is like... really dangerous, right?"

"I didn't think that-"

"No," Tucker said. "I've seen a lot of people try to play with ectoplasm, and it doesn't go well. Even the Fentons end up harming themselves a lot with it, and I can guarantee for a fact that organizations like the Guys in White and Axion have made a lot of mistakes. I know the pursuit of science is exciting, but no one should really be messing with that stuff outside of a professional environment. That's like... a kid our age trying to play with Uranium." He turned to his accomplice. "Right, Sam?"

She was leaned up against the lockers, eyes heavy, trying to act awake. "Right," she mumbled.

"I've also been tempted," Tucker admitted. "So I get it. But it's not always worth it. I mean, Danny only became half-ghost because the three of us were screwing around in the first place. I'm sorry to sound like the safety police or anything, but it's just how it is."

"I – I get it," Mikey nodded, ashamedly walking away. Tucker's explanation did little to dissuade him, however, instead, it only further convinced him that he was on the right track. Who cared if it was dangerous? It was the only thing that would allow him to be like Danny, and Tucker had even said it himself! 'Danny only became half-ghost because we were screwing around'.

If anything, Mikey wasn't stopping now. So, he decided to look for alternative solutions, which is what eventually ended up leading him to Amity's local occult bookshop, the Skulk and Lurk. He figured that ectoplasm was a paranormal substance right? Yeah, it's scientific, but that doesn't make it any less paranormal, so maybe he could find some kind of recipe to actually make it or something.

So, he ended up talking to the assistant manager, Spike, who was happy – not really happy, depressingly eager? – to assist him.

"That sounds wicked, man," Spike agreed. Mikey couldn't help but stare at the Goth's gaudy nosering and tried to pretend he was looking into his eyes instead. "But I don't think we can do any of that stuff legally, 'cause like... I think it's technically radioactive? All I know is that a year ago, the Guys in White came in here and put a recall on some kind of book they published because it was 'too risky for public knowledge'. Really fuckin' sketchy, I'll tell you that."

"That's nuts," Mikey said.

"Yeah," Spike nodded. "What else is new, huh? Anyway, since you probably won't find anything on how to physically make ectoplasm, I can still help you find stuff about ghosts, since it's our most popular section, after all."

Mikey had already done extensive research on ghosts themselves, and at this point, all he really needed was the ectoplasm. "I think I'm fine, thank you," he declined.

He turned to leave the store when another patron; a tall, college-aged kid, with partially shaven, purple hair; blocked his path. They were a few feet away from the door, and Mikey looked up at the intimidating figure slowly. Mikey's mind to race why a stranger had cornered him when he realized that this was probably one of those Goths who would beat up anyone who wasn't goth, just because Mikey had entered his personal space. He braced himself for some pummeling (something he was far too accustomed to) when instead, the guy actually spoke to him.

"Hey, you said you were tryin' to buy ectoplasm?" the guy whispered.

Mikey was taken aback. Had he heard his conversation with Spike? He must have, because otherwise, how would this guy know? Oh man, now Mikey was staring – what was he supposed to say? "Uhh, yeah?" he responded awkwardly.

He gave him an affirmative look, and grabbed Mikey's sleeve, pulling him aside into a nearby book aisle. "I probably shouldn't be doin' this," he started, "but I know a guy. He cleans up ghost attack damages in the city, so he comes across ectoplasm a lot. Officially, he's supposed to give it over to the government or something, but he keeps some of it for sale; I mean, it's not like they're gonna know how much is missing, right? I can hook you up with his number, but if you screw up or anything kid, you better not throw me under the bus, capiche?"

Once again, it took Mikey far too long to naturally answer. This guy... this guy actually was willing to help him! This guy actually had the solution to his mission! He was so baffled that he had to force himself to speak. "Yeah, yeah! Capiche," he sputtered.

So, the Goth kid gave him the man's phone number, and Mikey ended up calling him within the hour. He had a lot of questions about who Mikey was and why he wanted it, and Mikey had to explain that he was a High School student who was interested in doing some harmless experiments with it. The man was reluctant, wary that Mikey could be some kind of police officer trying to suspend his illegal transactions, but Mikey insisted. In fact, Mikey was first to suggest that they could meet up behind the Nasty Burger before school hours, out of the public eye. Sure, it was a little risky for him to trust a stranger who could be some kind of murderer or pedophile, but honestly, the chances of him getting hurt in a ghost attack were much higher than the chance of either of those scenarios, so he wasn't too worried about it. They discussed price, and Mikey ended up

And just like that, two days later, instead of taking the bus to school, he walked towards the Nasty Burger instead. He made sure to leave early, that way he could get the entire deal finished before his first class of the day. As someone who was near the top of his class, Mikey was deadly serious about his attendance record.

When he finally reached the Nasty Burger, there was a blue Toyota idle at the end of the back alley. When Mikey approached the alley, the car turned off, and a man no older than thirty opened the door. He was lanky with greasy brown hair and was wearing a reflective orange vest, most likely for his job as a clean-up worker.

"You Mikey?" he asked, raising a brow. "I thought you said you were in High School."

Mikey crossed his arms, trying and failing to seem not offended, "I am."

The man sighed, "Alright, kid. You got the money? We gotta make this fast 'cause apparently Phantom just got thrown into some antique store and I'm on call today."

The offhanded mention of Danny caught him off guard, but Mikey quickly made up for it by pulling out three twenty dollar bills. (The man had set the price at $30 per pint, and Mikey had decided to buy an entire quart.) He forked the money over, and the guy slipped the bills into his wallet.

"Okay," he said, "cool. I got it in my car, give me a second."

He walked over to his car, opened the backseat, and pulled out a small jug filled up to the top with a foul, green substance. Mikey didn't deny that for a moment that it was ectoplasm. He took the container (which was much heavier than he expected) and swiftly shoved it into his backpack, praying for the life of him that it wouldn't leak before he stored it in his locker for the day.

From there, they said courteous goodbyes, and both hurried to their school and job, leaving what happened in the alley behind them. For the entire day, he entrusted the ectoplasm in his locker, before subtly squeezing it back into his backpack once school let out. He didn't let anybody distract him from boarding the first bus to his house, running upstairs before either of his parents realized he was home, and locking his bedroom door.

Once he was alone in the sanctity of his room, he put the jug of ectoplasm on his desk, before turning around and rummaging under his bed until he found one of his old science kits he'd gotten back in middle school. It came with an actual medical syringe, which at the time Mikey hadn't seen any use for, but now it was exactly what he needed. He carefully opened the jug of the supernatural substance, and delicately filled up the syringe until it was completely full.

Without further ado, Mikey began the process of altering himself with ectoplasm to obtain a stable, hybrid form. He held the syringe in his right hand, pressed the dull needle against a vein on his left arm (he'd checked the Internet to make sure he was injecting in the correct place), and pressed, letting it dispense an ounce of pure ectoplasm into his bloodstream. He'd be lying if he said that it felt good, in fact, the ectoplasm sent nasty chills through his entire body, he could sense the invasion, and he had to physically restrain himself from tearing the needle out of his skin right then.

Once the first injection was done, Mikey hurriedly cleaned up everything, hiding the ectoplasm and instruments in a box under his bed so his family wouldn't find it. He was planning to buy some sort of safe for it soon, that way it was even more protected from any curious interlopers. Consequently, moments after he safely disposed of everything, a wave of fatigue hit him in the gut. Mikey wasn't a fool; he knew that until his body became accustomed with the ectoplasm, that he was going to have to face some unpleasant side effects. He expected this, therefore, he had everything under control.

This was voluntary, his own decision, and it wasn't even that bad. Yeah, he was just... tired. Really tired, kinda sweating, and freezing. He actually didn't know he could feel that cold internally, and wow, his eyes felt like... dumbbells. But that was okay! He'd just sleep awhile, wake up for dinner with his family, fall back asleep, and let his body deal with the consequences. And then, he'd inject some more and eventually build an endurance. It was a good plan, a solid plan.

He fell asleep immediately, and in his dreams, the reality of becoming a hero grew more coherent.

When he awoke, it was morning again, and he realized that his Mom must've not been able to wake him up to eat dinner. Oh well, it was just one meal, it's not like it was that important. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of his bed, and instantly he was overtaken by an urgent sense of nausea. He still felt cold, but he could feel the hot tug of his stomach; there was acid splashing around in there and it hurt so much! The sensation of someone scraping knives against his organs, poking and prodding, and that relentless acid – it was starting to creep up his throat, and then he was unable to hold it back and-

He lurched forward and vomited all over the carpet. He looked at it unimpressed and blanched. Thankfully, it was mostly water, since he hadn't eaten much yesterday, but there were still gross chunks of undigested food floating about.

Of course, at the perfect moment, his Mom walked in and witnessed his gross mess. She had to leave the room quickly and get his Dad since she was the sort of person who threw up at the sight of other people's puke. He cleaned it up, and after forcibly taking Mikey's temperature even though he had insisted he was fine, they decided that he was too sick to go to school. In a way, he was relieved, but not terribly so, since he knew that he might have these symptoms for a while, and he couldn't afford to let them hinder his education. But it was his parents' choice, so he stood in bed all day, against his will.

Well, not all day, actually. Once his parents had left for work, he found the ectoplasm under his bed again and gave himself another injection, the same amount as yesterday. He decided that he was going to try to schedule two injections a day (once in the morning, once at night) to fully recondition his body. He wasn't going to do this halfway; Mikey was going all in.

His parents kept him home for three days that week before Mikey convinced them that even though he was sick, he could still go to school. Of course, they hadn't wanted to let him go, but he wore them down with a little persuasion. While he was at school though, he almost wished that he had stayed home, because, for the first week, the injections continued to make him sick. He threw up more times than he could remember, he fell asleep in his classes (much to many of his teachers' shock), and fought a constant battle against dizziness. He probably injured himself more trying to stay balanced when walking around than any of the jocks did when they routinely beat him up.

And even though he was suffering, Mikey continued his injections. Morning after morning, and night after night. His supply was starting to wear thin, and he was getting worried because his body hadn't adjusted yet. However, somewhere around the twelfth day of his sick agony, his ill symptoms began to wade, and his stress was quelled. Actually, he was pretty elated; the disappearance of any negative health effects meant that his body was finally getting used to the ectoplasm in his system! This was the first proof that what he was doing to himself was working!

But around that same time, Mikey was faced with a new problem. Sure, he didn't feel sick anymore, but now he could feel his body almost start to... crave, for lack of a better word, the injections. And he only had enough to last him about two more days and he had no idea what to do because he was sure that he could contact his supplier, but he didn't have enough money to actually pay for it. So that meant he had to find cash, and fast.

His parents were out of the question because they would ask too many questions, so that meant if he was going to borrow from someone else, he needed somebody who wouldn't ask why he needed money. And the best person for that probably was one of his close friends, Nathan or Lester. They would both provide for him in a heartbeat, but it was still going to be tricky since he didn't really want to admit what he was doing yet. They wouldn't understand his goal; if they knew what he was doing to himself, they would either try to do it with him or completely shut his operation down. Neither of those were viable situations, so he had to keep it a secret from them.

Mikey decided to ask Nathan first since he had a job, unlike Lester, and hoped that he didn't completely screw this up. He met the ginger boy in the band room since it was a fairly safe nerd territory that wouldn't be disrupted very easily.

"Hey, uh, Nathan?" he pondered. "I have a favor to ask for you, and well... you don't have to say yes. It's a no questions asked kind of favor, so..."

"A holy 'no questions asked'?" Nathan whispered. A few years ago, they had this deal in their friend group, that if one of them offered a 'no questions asked', then the other person could redeem a 'no questions asked' for the other person at any time. Currently, neither of them owed each other one, but now Mikey was opening a new chain of favors. So if Nathan agreed to give Mikey money, that meant that he could call on Mikey to do anything for him, whenever he wanted. "Wh – what are you asking me to do, then?"

"I need money," Mikey said. "Kind of pricey, though, so you don't have to do it. It's a serious thing, so I get that-"

"How much do you need?" Nathan asked. "I don't have a lot on me right now, 'cause I keep all my pizza money at home, but-"

"One-twenty," he blurted. "And I need it by tomorrow. So I get that if it's too much-"

"No," Nathan interrupted. "Th – that's fine, Mikey. If you come over to my house tonight, I can give you it later. I think I have enough. The other night I delivered pizza to Manson's house, and she always tips me really good, so..."

"You're a lifesaver," Mikey breathed. "Thank you, thank you so much for this, dude. I really..." need it – "appreciate it."

Later that night, Mikey found himself at Nathan's house playing video games and guiltlessly pocketing the cash that he asked for. He left Nathan without saying much more about it and called his supplier at the first opportunity that night. They agreed to meet behind the Nasty Burger again, and this time Mikey was going to buy a half-gallon instead of a quart. It was a hassle to bring twice as much ectoplasm to school and hide it, but Mikey managed to make it work.

The next few days after he restocked, Mikey slowly upped his daily dosage of ectoplasm to twice the amount. He felt confident that his body could handle it, and in fact, he could even feel that it was changing him somehow. Not in a bad way, he didn't think, but he felt more... powerful. Hungry. Hungry for what, he had no clue, but he liked the feeling, regardless of the potential repercussions.

After about four days after he had doubled his ectoplasm intake, Mikey finally decided to do some minimal measurements to see if his body had been altered yet. There were no definitive results, with the exception of his internal body temperature, which was about 94°F (34.4°C), and with some research, he learned that was technically a hypothermic temperature. To be frank, it didn't really surprise him, since he'd been cold ever since he'd started the injections. However, the main reason it didn't bother him, was because he'd heard that Danny's human temperature was normally about 70°F, so if Mikey's temperature was getting lower, that meant he was closer to being like Danny.

Another observation Mikey had about himself was that he also felt more confident and that with the power of ghosts constantly running within his veins, he felt like he could almost say and do anything. Mikey had always had some degree of social anxiety, ever since elementary school when the other kids made it clear that they didn't like him because he was a nerd. So, from that point in his life and beyond, Mikey had cut himself off and had become reclusive outside of his friend group. He would do the A-List favors here and there whenever they threatened him, and he never objected his place in the social hierarchy, because that would only result in him being beaten.

But now... something had chemically changed in his brain, for the better instead of the worse. This new confidence was almost like a Godsend, and Mikey wondered if this was what Danny felt like all the time. No wonder he was so heroic! This stuff, the ectoplasm, was empowering! Now, whenever he wanted to say something in class, Mikey just said it out loud, instead of just keeping his head down and being afraid. Now, whenever a jock tried to bully him, he fought back. Sure, he still wasn't physically strong or anything, but he still managed to punch Dale Bradford in the eye, giving him a shiner.

Mikey didn't even get detention or anything, because ever since Danny was revealed, he managed to pull some strings with the teachers, and bullying was treated as an actual issue. And even though it was Mikey who injured Dale, there was no way the teachers weren't not going to take his side. Only a fool would stand up for someone as stupid and vulgar as Dale Bradford. Mikey was actually glad that he'd injured him because he sure deserved it.

Something else worth mentioning, that Mikey noticed probably about a week after the dosage increase, was that he was starting to crave meat more. It wasn't something he really realized right away until Lester pointed out that Mikey had spent all of his lunch money on multiple portions of the mystery meat. And nobody willingly ate the mystery meat.

The weirdest part was that Mikey hadn't even realized what he had done until someone else made him aware of it. But he didn't really care. Because, for some reason, Lester liked pointing unnecessary things out, which always kind of grated on Mikey's nerves. It wasn't something that nobody but Lester really cared about after all, because who should care that Mikey's eating the mystery meat? It's not anyone else's business.

Lester was just irritating like that sometimes, he supposed. But recently, it was like Lester (and Nathan too) were being a little more annoying than usual. Mikey knew it wasn't in his head or anything because it almost seemed like they were trying to do it, like they were testing him. For instance, their tendency to ask too many personal questions seemed to be a common nuisance whenever he hung out with them now. They'd be having a conversation about DND or something, and all of a sudden, they would ask him why he hadn't been playing Doom with them last night, and they would ask for way too many details that good friends wouldn't ask.

"Really dude," Nathan said, slowly sliding a greasy french fry into his mouth. Did he really have to it that slowly? That was a little freaky. "Why weren't you online? We always play together on Thursdays." He already knew that, why were you telling him this? "Did something come up? Did Sarah do something to like... sabotage your computer?"

"No," he gritted his teeth. They knew Sarah, his little sister, wasn't allowed in his room, so that was a stupid question. "I was just reading a book. Lost track of time."

He'd actually been working on calculations to see how long it would take him to become a half-ghost and independently produce his own ectoplasm. But that wasn't any of their business.

"What book?" Lester asked, looking uncomfortably into Mikey's eyes. "Was it the one I recommended to you? Y'know, the one with the intergalactic dystopia where they discover the history of Earth and try to get to Earth and find out that it's pretty much a toxic wasteland, so then they-"

"It wasn't that," he cut him off. Couldn't they just leave him alone and believe his story? Did they really have to test him, try to find holes in his explanation? He'd said he was reading a book, why did they have to know more?

"Oh, what was it then?" Lester asked.

"Something for school. I don't know, one of the things Lancer has on his book list."

"Oh, really? Ew. Those are all 'classics'," Lester rolled his eyes. "I'll take a sci-fi thriller over anything Shakespearean any day. Lancer thinks all classics have to be practically indecipherable to read with all that 'thee' and 'thou' stuff. I don't like it."

And Mikey still didn't care.

Nathan laughed. "'Thee' and 'thou' stuff? Have you even read anything that doesn't have some kind of Princess Leia type character in it? You wouldn't know what to do with a book that doesn't have some kind of hot space babe as the protagonist's love interest. We all know that's the only reason you read those-"

"Is not!"

"Is too!" Nathan argued.

They continued to pointlessly bicker back and forth, screaming across the table, with Mikey in the verbal crossfire. Sitting there almost gave Mikey an aneurysm; Nathan had a habit of spitting when he spoke, and right now he was practically spouting out a fountain of saliva directly towards Mikey. It was gross, and Mikey didn't deserve to be spat at by someone who was arguing over such a juvenile topic, who couldn't even respect conversational nor physical boundaries.

Something snapped in Mikey, and that hum of power in his veins reacted. His fist burst forward and he punched Lester in the shoulder. The boy recoiled at the unexpected assault. "Wha-"

"You guys are being annoying," Mikey grumbled, before grabbing his things and leaving the table. It wasn't like staying there would do him any favors at the moment, so he might as well leave, right? It wasn't his fault that they were being so childish, that they weren't good enough for Mikey's standards at the moment.

Nathan and Lester looked at Mikey worriedly as he stormed off, not caring that it was against the rules to leave the cafeteria during lunchtime.

Mikey attended the rest of his classes without his friends since neither of them were in his classes at the end of the day. It was relieving for Mikey, for a while, until other people in his class also grew irritating. Like the girl in front of him, who kept chewing her nails, quite unattractively, at that, and taking her fingernail bites (which were painted glossy and red) out of her mouth to look at them, before sweeping them into the floor. It was kind of provoking, too, like she was daring Mikey to come and slap her for it. He was tempted, but seeing as they were in class, and hitting a girl was wrong, he refrained himself.

That day, when school finally let out, he planned to get on the bus, directly home, so he could do another injection. His arm was itching for another fix of ectoplasm, and it wasn't like he could stunt his progress, right?

That's what he wanted to do, though, not actually what happened. Instead, when Mikey returned to his locker to grab his bag before boarding the school bus, Nathan was standing there, waiting for him.

"Hey," Nathan started.

Mikey was almost content with ignoring him, after the stupid thing earlier, but decided to humor him. "Hey."

"Are you okay?" Nathan asked. "These past few days... you haven't exactly been yourself, per se..."

Ugh, Mikey hated when people said 'per se'. It was such a pretentious sounding expression, and like, nobody ever spelled it correctly.

"I'm fine," Mikey replied, distastefully. He turned the dial to his locker. "Better than ever, actually."

"You sure?"

Again, with the unnecessary questions. You've already said it once, why do you have to say it multiple times?

"Absolutely," he barked, grabbing his backpack, and slamming his locker shut with a violent BANG.

"Mikey..." Nathan took his sweet time drawing out the two syllables that made up his name. "What did you use the money I gave you for?"

"That's a 'no questions asked'," Mikey hissed. "We agreed that I don't have to tell you."

"True," Nathan shrugged. He adjusted his glasses as if to mask his nervousness. "So I'm just gonna out and ask it. What drug was it? Heroin?"

Mikey stared at him, blankly. "What?"

Nathan's eyes darkened, "I can tell when someone's shooting up. I'm not an idiot. You hear about those kids, the ones who actually do that kind of stuff, but I never thought... I never thought it'd be you, Mikey."

"I'm not doing fucking heroin," Mikey whispered. He was never one to swear, but he would do it occasionally, to emphasize his point. "... that's a load of shit."

"Really?" Nathan crossed his arms. "So if you're saying that if I looked at your arms right now, there wouldn't be any needle marks."

"No," Mikey said. He didn't consciously lie, but he wouldn't admit to doing heroin, nor ectoplasm, so he would just have to deny both. "None at all."

Nathan narrowed his eyes. "You disappoint me, Mikey. I've already seen them, earlier when you took your jacket off. For someone trying to hide it, you're really doing a weak job."

"No," Mikey said. "You've got it all wrong."

"Mind to correct me then?" Nathan asked rhetorically. "I don't need your admission, Mikey. All I have to do is tell your parents. And there's nothing you can do to stop me because I care about you, and I'm not letting you go down this path."

"It's not heroin," Mikey found himself saying. He didn't know where this was coming from, but he didn't do anything to stop it. "It's something else. Hell, it's not even a drug. But it's something that's going to turn me great, something that will make me just as good as Danny. You can fucking try to tell my parents or the teachers, but they won't find any heroin, because you were right, Nathan, I'm not the type to do stuff like that. Besides, before you accused me, did you even do any research about any of the other effects of heroin? That shit fucks you up, and if you haven't noticed, I'm flourishing lately. So if you don't mind," he grabbed Nathan's shoulder, shoving the baffled boy into the lockers, "stay out of my business. This was a no questions asked."

When Mikey finally made it to the school bus loading zone, the bus was already long gone. He'd missed it, meaning that he'd have to walk home instead. He let out a scream of frustration. Was the world just against him today? It just wasn't fair! He really needed to inject more ectoplasm, and soon, Goddamn it!

He started his trek back home, and tediously kicked rocks off the sidewalk in bitter silence. After a few minutes, he passed by some old laundromat, and this deadly looking, feral cat began following him. At first, sure, she was kind of cute, and she reminded Mikey of the cat he used to have before it died in middle-school. But then, this cat opened it's mouth to meow, and then decided that it didn't want to shut up like it was in heat or something. No matter how much he screamed at it to go away, it just kept following him, with it's loud, insistent meowing that never ceased.

Eventually, he experienced the same furious sensation that he'd experienced at lunch, and the power within him lashed out. All Mikey could see was red (all he could hear were those "meow"s!) and he brought his leg over to the cat's stomach and kicked. He kicked it over and over and over... until it finally shut up and stopped moving. By the time he stopped, it's chest was still moving, unconscious, but definitely alive. It seemed like such an irksome matter, that it was still alive. It was such a futile, inferior creature, that certainly didn't have a right to believe compared to him. He wanted to kill it.

And honestly, Mikey was so close to finishing it's pathetic lifespan – such a nuisance – it would just be easiest to kill it. But, despite the power inside of him goading him on, Mikey held back. He resisted the urge to take an innocent thing's life (but it's not innocent; it was annoying me!) and walked away. He finished his walk to his house, and barricaded himself inside of the house, distancing himself from the cat's broken body, in case he changed his mind...

"Mikey?" his Mom called out when he had stepped into the foyer. "Are you home?"

"Yeah," he reluctantly mumbled. He just needed to go to his room, get his injection-

She appeared from the kitchen, hair up in a bun today, and smiled. She walked forwards, "Did you have a good day, today, sweetie?" she trapped him in a hug.

He almost felt like gagging. This was irrelevant.

"No," he broke himself out of her grasp and swatted her away. It hadn't been a good day because he hadn't gotten his injection yet!

"Why not?" the look of concern on her face wasn't worth much to him.

"Shut up," he told her, and without any more hassle, he charged upstairs to his room, once again. As usual, he locked the door, brought his instruments out from under the bed, and let the ectoplasm slide easily into his arm, like honey. It was his only true ally, the only thing that wasn't against him today, the only thing that could make him a hero. It would make him like Danny.

Tired from all of the pointless conflict, Mikey fell into bed and passed out for quite a few hours. This time, he didn't dream about his future as a hero, but rather, dreamt nothing.

When he awoke at 7 PM, he found himself in front of a mirror, changing into his pajamas. But when he examined his reflection, he actually looked at it for the first time in a while. He hadn't really realized it before, but his eyes had developed visible red flecks among his normal hazel green. That and his ears were slightly elongated, like some sort of fantastical elf. He grinned at himself, reveling in the changes to his appearance. This was more progress; this meant that it was working.

His success was short-lived, however, because, by his calculations, he would be out very soon. He knew that Nathan's money wasn't going to provide for him forever, and now he had to find another solution. Lester wasn't an option this time, because chances are, Nathan had probably already warned him not to give Mikey anything. But this time, their help didn't matter because he wasn't holding back. He was going to get what he needed, regardless of whether it was a conventional method or not. He was Michael Walsh, and he could do anything he wanted with ease. So, he'd just steal some money, it couldn't be that hard, right?

After some observation of his peers, Mikey decided that his easiest target would probably be someone in his gym class because it's not unusual for people to leave their belongings lying around unguarded. In fact, Mikey realized that the best person to steal from would actually be Kwan since he always left his locker unlocked because he was too fucking stupid to actually remember a combination. It was almost like Kwan gave him the money, it was so easy! Mikey waited for everyone to leave the locker room for class, and just walked up to his locker, found his wallet, and took all the cash that was there. And since Kwan was a rich jock, that was a lot of dough for a high school student, over $200. This was probably like his allowance or something, so Mikey doubted he would even miss it. He pocketed the money without a moment's guilt.

Later, at lunch, Mikey wanted to roll his eyes at Kwan's overt crying. Apparently, he was getting all pissy because his grandfather had given that money before he got put into assisted living or something and he didn't know how to tell his family that he'd lost it. The A-Listers and everyone else was practically eating the story up. Jeez, Kwan was such a melodramatic bitch for someone so privileged. If he actually did care about that money, he wouldn't be carrying around with him for no reason; he would've locked it up somewhere. But Mikey digressed, it didn't really matter what Kwan had and hadn't done, because now Mikey had the money he needed, and nothing else mattered.

He bought more ectoplasm, a full gallon this time, so hopefully, it would last him a little longer than the two previous purchases. He also decided to increase the dosage to three times the original amount, because the more the better, right?

After he took the money from Kwan, both Nathan and Lester stopped talking with him and sitting with him at lunch, and moved to a table with some of the Sophomore nerds instead. Mikey figured that they knew what he had done, but since he hadn't gotten in trouble yet, they were probably too weak to actually report him to anyone. All the better, since Mikey didn't want to deal with the school, Kwan, and his parents asking him questions, especially since it wasn't any of their business.

Nothing would stop Mikey from emerging the hero he strove to be. Definitely not those pussy-like fools, Nathan and Lester. They were annoying and immature, and once he became half-ghost, they would regret ever leaving him. But he didn't want them back, because he was already better than them, everything about Mikey was better than them. They'd see. Everyone would.

Danny's life had taken a turn ever since he revealed his secret, a turn for the better in some ways, and a turn for the worse in others. He didn't have to lie as much, and people in school and in Amity Park respected him in both forms now, so that was good. He wasn't exactly comfortable with his fans yet, so that was a little weird at times, but every day got a little better. His social reputation was in it's prime, and nobody (not even Dash) dared to try to offend or belittle him. All of it was pretty surreal.

His schoolwork was easier too, since the teachers had met with him and his parents to discuss his educational opportunities, and they'd decided on a system where Danny was only required to turn in his big assignments, but if necessary, he could opt to do some of the smaller assignments to keep his grades balanced.

No, what was really harder was the increase in ghost activity. Now that the ghosts knew that Amity Park knew, and after everything that had happened, it was like the bounty on Danny's head (literally, in Walker's case) had been raised tenfold. They attacked the town at least ten times a day at minimum, which was a large step up because before the reveal the average number of daily ghost attacks was around three or four.

He had to leave in the middle of class frequently, which was always a hassle because now he had to inform the teacher and take off his Ecto-Suppressant band. The Ecto-Suppressant band was a bracelet that kept him from using his powers during school, since legally he was prohibited from using any of his abilities, no matter how harmless, because in the eyes of the government they were still technically a 'weapon'.

So Danny was having to balance a lot more on his plate, despite the fact that his social and academic lives were easier. This meant that he was a lot more strained during school, and often failed to notice the little things unless they troubled him directly...

Somewhere around the third month of school, Danny started experiencing abnormalities with his ghost sense. It was like... he would start to have a ghost sense, he would feel the telltale chill inside his lungs, but the feeling would disappear before he could breathe it out. But the odd thing was, that it only occurred during school, and only during some of his classes. And lately, he was getting it a lot; at least multiple times a day. Before, he'd just been ignoring it because he hadn't thought it was relevant, but now Danny was actually starting to look around when it happened.

And then, one time Danny looked up, and he saw it. It was just an ordinary day, and nobody was doing anything that wasn't normal, but when Danny felt the partial ghost sense, he scanned the classroom and saw that right in front of him, Mikey was walking by his desk. And Mikey... Mikey's skin was green.

It wasn't that visible, it was just sort of a green tint, but with Danny's enhanced vision, it was clear as day. There was something that was causing the pigment in Mikey's skin to turn it green, and paired with Danny's inexplicable partial ghost sense... that could only mean one thing: ectoplasm.

Mikey was undoubtedly tainted with trace amounts of ectoplasm, and apparently, it was enough to alert Danny's ghost sense without actually triggering it. Danny had no idea what could be causing it and knew that he had to find out what it was, immediately.

After class, he found Mikey by his locker and decided to confront him. Ectoplasmic poisoning was a serious matter and Danny couldn't let this go overlooked.

"Hey Mikey," he greeted. Mikey was turned around, looking for something in his locker, but Danny could sense the surprise on the other boy's face without having to see it. "Can I uh... talk to you?"

Danny really didn't want to have this conversation in the hallway, surrounded by other people, who were definitely watching them, but he didn't have any other choice. It would be even more suspicious if Danny and Mikey went somewhere to talk in private, so the best place to have this encounter was here.

"You're talking to me?" Mikey asked, steadily. Danny noted that Mikey didn't really seem nervous, which was unequivocally different than the anxious habits he was known for.

"Yeah, uh," he said. "I kind of have something to ask you. Something important."

There was something guarded in Mikey's expression. Danny knew that look. He had perfected that look when he had to keep his secret. "What is it?"

"Have you come into any contact with any ghosts? Well, or anything ectoplasmic that could be hurting you?"

"No," Mikey said, carefully. "Not at all." He kept his shoulders broad and open, which suggested that he was being truthful, but the coldness in his eyes suggested otherwise. Danny had spent so much time lying that it was hard not to recognize when somebody was being deceitful.

"Are you sure?" Danny asked.

"Completely sure. I know that the other ghosts are dangerous," he nodded. Danny recognized when he tried to flip it from defense to offense, "Why are you asking?"

"No reason," Danny shrugged. "It's just... you kind of seemed like you might have something going on. Nothing to worry about, I think I was just wrong."

Danny knew that he hadn't been wrong; there was seriously something going on with Mikey and both of them knew it. And Danny also knew that Mikey wouldn't tell him the truth no matter how many different ways he asked. So for now, the best thing would be to let this go and just observe for anything strange.

"Oh, okay," Mikey said. "Well, thanks for looking out, I guess. But I'm fine."

"No problem," Danny smiled. He left Mikey there and rejoined Sam and Tucker, who were waiting just a few feet away.

"What was that about?" Sam asked.

"There's something wrong with Mikey," he said quietly, in case anyone else was trying to listen in. "Something ghost wrong, and he isn't telling me the truth. I don't know what it is exactly, but it's not good, and I don't know why he's lying to me."

"Well, that's uh..." she said. "Not good?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "We need to keep an eye on him. He won't tell me what's going on, so there's nothing I can do right now, but we need to watch him, just in case."

"Wait," Tucker interjected suddenly. "What type of ghostly thing is it? Like how'd you find out something is wrong?"

"His skin looks green, and whenever I'm around him I've been getting my ghost sense, but not fully. It disappears before I can breathe it out, but I still feel it. So I think he has a form of light ectoplasmic poisoning."

"Ectoplasmic poisoning?" Tucker's eyes widened. "No... no way. Sam, do you remember a few months ago?"

"A few months ago what?" she asked.

"Right... you were out of it then. Sleep deprivation. Well, at the beginning of the school year, Mikey was asking me about where he could get ectoplasm for experiments or something. I told him that it was too dangerous and that he should forget about it, but..."

None of them said anything. They were all thinking along the same lines of horror.

"So we're definitely keeping an eye on him, then?" Sam asked, weakly.

"Yeah, for sure."

"Mikey?" Sarah, his irritating sister, opened the door to his room.

"What?" he spat. He was trying to figure out how to this stupid-ass math homework, and he couldn't be interrupted over trivial things.

Sarah looked down at her feet nervously, adjusted her glasses, and dragged herself next to her brother's desk. "I was just... wondering if you're okay?" she said, quietly.

"What kind of a fucking question is that?" he asked, rhetorically. He didn't have time to worry about the moral consequences of cussing at his ten-year-old sister. She was just being a bother to him, invading his personal privacy, and wasting his time.

"I just..." her voice broke. "Mom and Dad have talked about how they're worried about you, and you've been acting kind of different lately."

"So? I have," Mikey said, "I'm actually more confident. Why do they have a problem with that? I'm doing great and I'm still staying on top of my school work, so logically it's pointless to worry over something that's beneficial to me."

"I don't think you're okay, though," Sarah said, softly.

"Who gives a shit?" he growled, pointing his pencil at her. Couldn't she just leave him alone?

"I care about you," she said. "I know I don't act like it, but I don't think that this is good for-"

"There's nothing to care about, why are you wasting my time, you worthless bitch!" he stood up from his desk, towering over her by at least a foot.

There was fear in her eyes but maintained where she stood. "I hear you," she emphasized. "I hear you crying in your sleep. I know something's wrong!"

Mikey didn't hesitate for a moment when he shoved her back into his wall. The hopeless brat was crying now and he just wanted to hurt her again. Those tears were obnoxious, and if she wasn't related to him, he probably would've done it just to shut her up.

"That's none of your business," he hissed. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm great. Now, get out of my space!"

At those words, she screamed. A terrible scream, one coated in multiple layers of horror, and while the fear he incited within her was exhilarating, it didn't make her screaming any less annoying. He didn't even understand why she was screaming so loud until she tilted her head, and he could see a reflection of two red eyes burning in her glasses. His eyes were glowing red.

Sarah clumsily scrambled outside of his bedroom and didn't turn back.

Mikey knew that he couldn't stop now, it was working better than ever, and those red eyes of his... those red eyes will be the eyes of a hero, soon enough. He can't wait to make people respect him (like Danny), he can't wait to be famous (like Danny), he can't wait to be powerful (like Danny), and he can't wait to make ghosts fear him (like Danny). He can't wait until he's just like Danny.

That night at dinner, nobody in his family really talked much. Sarah wouldn't make eye contact with him, and neither of his parents went out of their way to interact with him too much. It was probably like Sarah said, they were worried about him, and after his sister had come out of his room screaming, they probably had no idea what to do. He liked that; he didn't want anybody to talk to him. Actually, he didn't even really want to be there, at the table, since he didn't even feel hungry. He was just uselessly pushing his food around, not eating any of it. So a few minutes into their silent meal, he gave up and just left, choosing to go upstairs and fall asleep instead.

Sleeping came to him naturally now, it was never difficult to doze off when before he started the injections it would take him at least five minutes to pass out. Now, he could fall asleep at a second's command. Which he did, effortlessly.

He woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, which was something that usually never happened. Typically, when he woke up, it was because of his alarm clock, but for some reason, he had woken up on his own tonight. He looked at his digital clock and read that it was a little past 2 AM. And then he felt it, a dull pain lingering within him. His stomach hurt. Really, really bad.

He was hungry. Probably because he hadn't eaten dinner, but it wasn't his fault that nothing had looked appetizing to him.

He stumbled down to the kitchen, threw open the fridge, and rummaged around for something that he could eat. Nothing there smelled or looked good, in fact, it all smelled rotten and gross, like it'd been sitting around for too long. Everything was too dead, even the fruits. He wanted something that was fresher.

He slammed the fridge shut and opened the freezer instead. There was a package of frozen raw meat, and it smelled delicious. He was eating that, he decided, and he tore it open, not even minding that it wasn't thawed enough to chew. He swallowed most of it in large chunks, enjoying the juiciness it exerted as it melted in his mouth. In less than five minutes, Mikey had eaten the entire package and was happily full for the night. He went back up to his bedroom and fell asleep until the next morning, when he habitually injected, and left for school.

He felt better than ever that day, it was almost like the meat from the night before had rejuvenated him. He walked through the halls, head up, not giving a damn about the people around him. He was superior to all of them (except Danny, his hero) and he wasn't going to be afraid of any of them, not even the jocks who thought that they were better than him.

And in the midst of this thought process, irony struck, and a disgruntled cheerleader, Star, accidentally bumped into his shoulder and spilled her hot latte all over him. The coffee ran all the way down Mikey's shirt, leaving his skin red and irritated from the heat, and without much thought, Star dropped the cup. Both of them wore identical expressions of shock, and the entire hallway froze with anticipation.

"Mikey, I'm sorry-"

Mikey's fist connected with her gut before she even had a chance to attempt an apology. He was livid; how dare she! How dare she, how dare she, how dare she! The unexpected punch had more force than Mikey knew he had in him, and it sent Star crumpling to the floor.

Good, he thought. And unbeknownst to him, his eyes adopted a murderous, glowing red glare. His anger wasn't satisfied by the single harsh motion of violence – he wanted more. He started kicking Star while she was on the ground, very much like with the cat, causing the blonde girl to erupt in screams of terror and pain. Every kick felt justified, felt like bliss, and he was happy to indulge in those feelings. At some point, she started bleeding and her blood made it even more rewarding.

Most of the students in the hall fled to the walls, distancing themselves from the manic boy, but those with braver hearts took action. Dash and Kwan surged forward, going to pull Mikey away from Star so he could stop harming her, but Mikey refused to be restrained. Dash tried pulling Mikey away by wrapping his arms around the smaller boy's waist, but Mikey writhed against Dash, using his foot to kick Star and using his hands to scratch his nails into Dash's face. Kwan tried to help Dash pull Mikey away but grabbing onto Mikey's shoulder, but Mikey retaliated by biting Kwan's arm. When Mikey pulled away there were teeth marks in his skin and he was bleeding.

Meanwhile, Danny had just arrived at school, only to walk into a big fight with Dash and Kwan holding Mikey back, with Star screaming on the floor. Both Kwan and Star were bleeding, and Mikey... oh Ancients, Mikey's eyes were red. Ghostly red.

Danny entered the fray of fighting without transforming or removing his Ecto-Suppressant band, pushed through Dash and Kwan, and grabbed Mikey firmly. Mikey was struggling in his grip, but the fierce red-head was no match for Danny's naturally enhanced strength. He pulled him away from all of the other humans, including the bystanders, and held him against an empty wall. He used one hand to keep Mikey firmly pressed against the wall, and managed to slip his Ecto-Suppressant band with his free hand. The bracelet fell to the floor, and Danny was free to use his powers to resolve this situation. Normally, he wasn't allowed to use his powers to break up run-of-the-mill fights, but Danny figured given Mikey's current state, that this could be classified as an 'ectoplasmic emergency'.

He took Mikey's leg, and with some resistance, he managed to phase the boy's appendage into the wall, thoroughly trapping him. He could hear everyone behind him shift with some sort of relief as the gossiping began.

"What's wrong with him...?" someone asked.

"Intense as fuck. His eyes-"

"Red."

"Overshadowed...?" someone who sounded a lot like Valerie wondered.

Everyone else seemed to believe that Mikey was overshadowed, and they seemed to be preparing for some fight between Danny and the ghost they thought was inhabiting the other boy. Danny knew better than to think that. He knew that this wasn't some other ghost. Hell, he had suspected that something was going on, and he should've acted before it escalated to this. But it was too late now, and now he was the one who was expected to fix it.

"Dash, Kwan," Danny called out, stepping up the leader position, as he typically did, "can you two take Star to the nurse?" Wait, no. "Actually, no, Dash and... you," he pointed to another jock, "take her? Since Kwan is also bleeding."

"Yeah," Dash's voice was higher than usual but affirmative. "We can do that, Danny."

"Thanks," Danny nodded, turning back to Mikey.

Dash and the other jock carried Star away, followed by Kwan, who was still holding his bleeding arm. Then, a Freshman girl who Danny didn't recognize stepped forward.

"Is he overshadowed?" she asked. She seemed nervous. He didn't know if she was nervous because of what had just happened, or if just was nervous talking to him.

"No," Danny replied. "This isn't overshadowing. This is actually him. He's corrupted by ectoplasm. I don't know how he..."

Danny froze. During the fight, Mikey's jacket had fallen off, and now his arm was exposed, and even though the irritated skin was mostly healed, he could see the marks. Before, Danny had known that Mikey was aware he was poisoned by ectoplasm, but he never thought to really consider that maybe Mikey was doing it to himself because he wanted to.

He stepped forward again, over to the boy who was struggling to escape the wall. Danny took his arm and looked at it closer just to be sure that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. And yep, those were definitely needle marks.

"You idiot," he breathed. He said it quietly, but there was no way that the rest of the hall couldn't hear him. "Didn't you know what this could do to you? You could die from this Mikey, what were you thinking?"

Mikey's voice was jarring and fierce, "If dying is what it takes, then I'll do it. I need the ectoplasm. I need to be like you!"

Those words sent chills down Danny's spine. 'I need to be like you'. The other students were also intrigued by Mikey's admission, though, the considerably understood less than Danny.

Danny found himself hesitating, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Mikey's smile was an angry smile, a relentless one. "I need to have powers like you! I need to be strong like you!" He sounded longing and desperate. "I need to be a hero..."

"Mikey... I..." Danny was floored, "you don't want to be like me. Being half-ghost isn't something that anyone should want." And Danny meant it. Right now he was comfortable with what he was, but he definitely had his share of suffering. Being a halfa was an indescribable amount of suffering that nobody in their right might would seek-

Yet, Mikey was intolerant. "You're lying," he spat, "because you don't want me to be like you, you want to special, but if I were like you, I'd be better!"

Was that really what Mikey thought of him? That Danny wanted to be special? Sure, that's what Sam always told Danny, that he was special, and maybe in a way it was true, but that didn't mean it was necessarily good

"I..." his mouth was unnaturally dry. Danny turned to the crowd of students eagerly listening behind him. "I want all of you to leave."

And as he predicted, most of the kids resisted.

"What! No way, dude!"

"We want to hear this!"

To everyone else this was a show, it was drama. They didn't actually care about Mikey, they just wanted to see what would happen next.

Danny felt his eyes glow green. "Now," he hissed.

A few people left at his warning, however, a few of the more stubborn teenagers refused to move. Thankfully, Sam, who was standing in the crowd, backed him up.

"If you don't all leave, I'll personally report you to Principal Ishiyama for loitering, and put a curse on each and every one of you," she threatened. Even though he was the one with the powers, Danny had a reputation for being the nice guy. Sam, on the other hand, never went back on her word and would do anything to get back at someone. So at her cue, the rest of the stragglers cleared out, only leaving Team Phantom and Mikey himself.

"Why'd you make everyone go away?" Mikey asked, kicking his free leg against his trapped leg, still trying to escape.

Danny sighed, "I'm only going to say this once, but can you please listen to me, and keep an open mind?"

Mikey only growled in response, at a loss of what to say. Taking that as sort of a 'yes', Danny started his explanation.

"Look, Mikey, you don't want to be a halfa, and you don't want the responsibilities of a hero."

"Yeah, I do-"

Danny ignored him, and resumed talking, "Sure, it sounds all cool and whatever, but it hurts. A lot. Being a hybrid is scary because people are always coming after you, trying to capture you for experiments and fighting you for the challenge of it. The GIW is still trying to pass laws that say they can detain me, and I'm scared that one day it'll actually happen, and they'll keep me as a lab rat, but for now, all I can do is try to look good in the public's eye and ignore it.

"Then there are the ghosts who target the town because of me all the time, which I have to fight because it's my fault they're here, and then I get hurt from it. Do you know how much it hurts being thrown into the concrete from fifty feet in the air, or what it's like to destabilize into literal goo when you get too weak? Bullets? Ectoblasts?"

"But you're strong," Mikey said, obviously.

"I am," Danny agreed, "but pain is pain. And then I have to come to school and deal with everyone always in my personal space because I'm some sort of celebrity, and it never stops, so I just have to pretend like I'm okay with it, even when people overstep every inch of my life and make me uncomfortable. Even though I'm doing better since the reveal, it's still frustrating that I can't be a normal student, that I have to depend on so much support to get the minimal requirement of work done.

"And aside from all the physical pain, there's the mental pain. The anxiety I get at night, from knowing what I am, and how different I am. You might think it sounds 'cool', but being practically your own species is isolating and frustrating, and just when I try to decide what I am, everything restarts, and then I have to cope with the fact that underneath it all I'm just some half-dead freak pretending to be okay, when I'm not, and that logically speaking... I probably would be the perfect experiment, I mean, it's not like I'm human. So Mikey, please don't try to be like me. I don't want you to have an existence like mine, because this should be my burden to bear, nobody else's."

Mikey looked he wanted to cry, but it was like something in him was restraining him from shedding tears. Danny's admission had spoken to something in him beyond his corrupted mindset.

His voice shook, "I just feel so... angry, and violent. I want to be powerful..."

"That's the ectoplasm making you think that," Danny explained. "I don't know where you found it, but if you try to make your body adapt to it... it can seriously corrupt your brain. It also depends on what ghost the ectoplasm came from, assuming that it's not purified. If it came from any of the malevolent ghosts I fight, then that'd screw you up even more."

"But how come it didn't do that to you?" he asked.

Danny sighed again. Here we go. How to tell him without telling him too much about how halfas become halfas?

"My accident was different," he ventured carefully. "I didn't become Phantom because I got exposed to ectoplasm, I got this way because I started to die while large amounts of ectoplasm were being infused with my DNA. It's not really something that's easy to recreate."

Mikey was silent for a few seconds, and he could hear Sam and Tucker moving behind him. Sam whispered something about leaving to go get Principal Ishiyama, and moments later, she walked away. Her footsteps echoed loudly down the hall.

"Danny..." Mikey's voice cracked, "what if I don't want to stop doing this to myself?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Injection isn't going to make you half-ghost, I can guarantee that it'll just make you corrupted up until the point you die from ecto-poisoning."

"I think I'm addicted to it," Mikey admitted slowly. "I don't think I can stop if I tried. Even if you took it away from me, I feel like I'd go crazy and hurt somebody if I don't have it."

"Well, you went crazy and hurt somebody with it, so..." Tucker interrupted.

"We can set up a detox at FentonWorks," Danny decided.

Mikey stared at him, "What?"

"My parents can set up a quarantine," he suggested, "and it'll only take a few days for most of the ectoplasm to get out of your system with the help of a few counter drugs."

He put his hand on Mikey's shoulder, trusting that the other boy wouldn't try to fight his touch, "We can help you, Mikey," he declared.

When he finally spoke, Mikey's voice was small. "Will it hurt? Going back to normal? After all of this?"

Danny looked him directly in the eyes, seeing beneath him. There was no way that the detox wouldn't hurt him.