#morge

It was a beautiful morning, one that a midwesterner such as Sarah had spent too long dreaming about through the dreaded winter months. But finally the ground had thawed, and all remains of winter had evaporated into the air. The birds fluttered around building their nests, the squirrels climbed up and down trees in search of food, and the plants along the forest floor were budding, preparing to release a colorful sea of flowers.

By all accounts, it was the perfect morning for a hike in the woods. Amity Park, though a bustling city, did have its peaceful trails along the outskirts. Most people didn’t bother exploring them, seeing them as too out of the way, but not Sarah.

And her dog, Atlas, with his tail wagging and his head tilting from the weight of the large stick he proudly hauled with him seemed to agree.

A dewdrop hit her forehead, and she looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. The air was just warm enough that she could forgo her jacket, but not quite warm enough to also leave her sweatshirt in her car. Though, the world was just beginning to wake up for the day. She had left with her dog just before stores opened, and by the time she would arrive back in her neighborhood, the streets would be bustling with activity.

It was the perfect Saturday morning.

“What do you say, Atlas. You think I should get a bagel on the way back?”

But the dog didn’t turn to respond, having dropped the heavy stick in favor of darting off the trail to chase a squirrel.

Sarah had always wanted to work in Amity Park’s K-9 unit, and was all too excited when her application for an open position was accepted. From there she underwent training before she was placed with a new puppy, Atlas. The two of them worked together for months every day before he was finally able to start on the field as a cadaver dog.

It was a bit of a morbid job, if Sarah were being honest. Her parents had been rather concerned when Sarah admitted what field of the K-9 unit she was going into, but they tried their best to show their support. Even if her mom couldn’t help but make a face when Sarah tried to explain the various training exercises she did with Atlas.

But Sarah loved her work. She felt like she was truly making a difference in this city, and Atlas was an absolute joy to work with. In the four years they’d been together, they’d developed a keen sense of trust between each other that could only come out of the hours and hours spent training each week.

And despite his serious, professional demeanor when he was on the job, off the job he could be a bit of a goofball.

She stepped over a log and continued down the dirt path. She’d lost sight of Atlas, but she wasn’t concerned. He was never too far away from her.

And as if right on cue, a bark sounded from behind some brush.

Sarah recognized that bark, it was the same clipped, alerted tone he used in training and out on the field.

“What’s up?” Sarah called out.

Atlas barked again.

She frowned, moving the brush aside and stepping out from the trail’s path. She stepped behind a few trees and bushes before she saw her dog lying down on top of a patch of dirt, his body language wary, looking at her just like he did when he found human remains in training.

Sarah froze, looking at him. He barked again, and sniffed the ground.

Well trained cadaver dogs had ninety-five percent accuracy, and could easily ignore dead animal remains and food in favor of decomposing or even skeletal bodies. They could find human remains up to fifteen feet below the ground, and could even sniff out bodies underwater.

Sarah pulled out her phone.

It seemed like her morning hike was officially over.

---

“You have a very lucky dog,” Mark said, handing her a coffee.

Sarah hummed, graciously accepting the beverage. The scene had been roped off and was flooded with officers, detectives, and medical personnel. The morning had since passed, and now the sun beamed down on the tired workers.

It had been pure luck that Atlas had decided to wander off of the dirt path that day, that he had bounded from side to side, too full of energy to keep in a straight line. If they had walked by, would that person ever have been discovered?

“It’s deep in the ground,” Mark continued. “Whoever buried this John Doe didn’t want him to be found.”

“Kind of sick if you think about it,” Sarah said.

They had just uncovered the body, but it was unidentifiable on sight alone. It would need to be transported to a morgue before they could get any answers.

Mark took a long sip of his coffee. He was one of the younger detectives on the force, and for that reason, he and Sarah bonded instantly when he was hired in Amity. He was bright, exceptionally so, and showed a compassion for victims that was rare to see in law enforcement.

Sarah threaded her fingers through her blonde ponytail. “Well, hopefully you can solve one of your missing children’s cases.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

A man with salt and pepper hair came up to the duo. “Abrams?”

Sarah straightened immediately. “Sir?”

“You have a good dog. We’ll need you to come down to the station of course to give an official statement.”

“Of course, sir.”

She hadn’t had much conversation with the police chief, who was often a bit too old fashioned for Sarah’s taste. The man had only just switched to his first smartphone after his trusted flip phone finally refused to turn on after its years of service.

Of course, Chief Davis had spent about a week bemoaning the fact that people were insisting he get a smartphone, no he didn’t need one, his phone was fine, people these days were too reliant on technology and back in my day…

Rumor had it that his wife had been the one to finally crack him. And the man got his new sleek iphone, spent about a week asking every young recruit at work how to do basic tasks on the device, before he discovered that he could use Facebook on his phone. The following week had been filled with nothing but praise for modern software engineers.

Sarah flickered her eyes back over to the scene. The evidence bags and cotton swabs were being taken out of their cases as detectives gently prodded around the body.

Suddenly, there was a chill in the air. Sarah shivered and pulled her APD sweatshirt sleeves down her arms.

It felt...odd. The chill, it didn’t feel the same as when a spring breeze cut through a harsh, sunny day.

Atlas let out a warning bark.

Sarah’s brows furrowed. Something wasn’t right. No, this chill wasn’t on her skin. It felt deeper than that.

But before she could think about it, the body started glowing a familiar green.

Mark jumped back. “Holy shit!”

The detectives around the body scrambled back and whipped their ecto-guns out of their holsters. Everyone stood, watching with bated breath as the temperature plummeted and the green glow brightened before a familiar spirit shimmered into view.

“What the fuck,” Sarah whispered.

The figure hovered over the body disoriented, rubbing at his forehead as if he had a headache. A black jumpsuit covered his body, fading out at the end where a ghostly tail had replaced his legs.

Mark shot Sarah a horrified glance. “Is that—”

“Danny Phantom!” Chief Davis said, stepping forward.

Phantom’s hand fell, revealing acid green eyes. He surveyed the scene before finally turning his attention to the decomposing corpse below him.

He stiffened. Sarah saw the exact moment when reality hit his features.

“No…” he whispered, his eyes growing wide.

The air grew even colder.

The Chief raised his ecto-gun. “Step away from the body, Phantom.”

Phantom flew down, ignoring the chief, and hovered just above the cadaver. He reached down as if to touch the body, before he shot back, hitting a tree.

He gripped his chest, his eyes filled with panic.

“Phantom!” Chief Davis tried again.

Phantom’s eyes swung over to their group, and Sarah felt the breath leave her lungs. She had never seen the boy up close before, and he never exactly stuck around after fights to allow for conversation or questioning.

There had been close-ups of him on the news, as well as the occasional Tiktok or Youtube video from a random teen. And in those, Phantom always seemed so human, so real. And while publicly, as a member of the APD, Sarah was unable to voice her support for the vigilante ghost, privately she had never minded him. After all, he mostly stuck to ghost affairs, and whenever he got involved in human crime, it was always from a rescue position. Like saving an elderly man from a burning building, or saving the bus full of kids that almost drove off the road that one time. He’d never really interfered with police, not really.

And that’s why, as a teenaged human-like ghost, he was so beloved by the people. Glowing aura and white hair aside, he just seemed like a regular teen. His personality, demeanor, sense of humor, seemed so... normal.

But now, something was off. He seemed more ghost-like than Sarah ever remembered.

For the first time, Danny Phantom looked dangerous.

“Why are you here?” Chief Davis asked.

Phantom looked between the police chief, the body on the ground, and then back to the chief. Something snapped inside him and his face set, his look of panic transforming to deathly calm.

“You need to leave.” Phantom’s voice was cold.

“This is a crime scene. You can’t be here, ghost.”

The aura around Phantom brightened. “No. You need to leave.”

The chief didn’t flinch. “You either step away from the body, or I’ll shoot.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Why? Did you know him?”

Phantom’s eyes widened, and he slowly raised his hand out in front of him.

Chief Davis stepped forward. “Were you the one that killed him?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Phantom said, allowing the acid green to overtake his entire eyes. His hands began to glow. “You need to leave.”

“Phantom, don’t do this. You’re completely surrounded by armed cops who have a much better shot than the ghost hunters you’re used to dealing with. Come quietly, son.”

The ghost let out a hysterical laugh. “Come quietly? Or what, you’ll show up to my house and arrest me? I’m dead! You can’t do anything!”

Chief Davis’ eyes narrowed. “That’s not true and you know it. We’ve turned a blind eye to your vigilantism for over a year. You shoot, and you’ll be an enemy of the city. You won’t be able to haunt Amity Park peacefully any longer.”

The air in front of Phantom crackled with ectoplasm. His hair floated, as if underwater, and he brought up his other arm to share some of the acidic burden.

Sarah shivered, and she felt Atlas press up against her legs.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time: stand down, or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

Phantom gritted his teeth. Conflict played across his features, and it seemed like ages had passed before he finally opened his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I...I can’t let you take the... that.” He jerked his head to the corpse.

“And why is that?”

“Because…it’s—I…”

Realization hit Sarah like a ton of bricks. She froze, her eyes flickering between the rotting body and the distressed ghost above it.

Of course. It was too obvious.

Before she could stop herself, Sarah’s mouth flew open. “Phantom, is that you?”

It was as if the air were sucked out of the woods completely. Every head snapped towards her. The ghost faltered, the ectoplasmic blast he’d been preparing disappearing into thin air.

Then finally, his shock morphed into fear.

She was right.

“That boy.” Sarah pointed to the body. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

A trembling hand shot up to the ghost’s chest. “You—you can’t...you can’t—”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

The air was getting colder still. Phantom drifted closer to the body, as if to protect it.

Chief Davis lowered his ecto-gun and slowly stepped forward, as if coaxing a feral dog out from a corner. “Look, son, we can find whoever did this to you. We can bring them to justice.”

“You—you don’t understand.”

“No, I think I do. You were a kid, you were scared, and someone did something terrible to you and tried to cover it up in the woods. You’re trying to protect them because you’re still scared, but if there’s someone out there who hurt you, we can help.”

“It’s not like that. You need to leave.”

“You know we can’t do that. This is a crime scene now. We need to bring this—your human body in for investigation.”

Phantom turned down to face the rotting corpse, his face twisting in pain. “Then I have no choice.” He shot down, and had barely touched the body when Mark fired, his ectoblast burying itself in Phantom’s side.

The ghost was thrown back against the tree. “No!” he roared, but it was too late. Cops were on the body, shielding it from the ghost’s view.

Phantom glowed, his eyes turning blue.

“Don’t let him get that corpse!’ Chief Davis shouted, scrambling forward.

Phantom whipped his hand out front, but before he could release his glowing ecto-ice ball, Mark fired again, his blast hitting Phantom square in the eyes.

Blinded, the ghost screamed, unleashing spurts of energy from his mouth.

Sarah hit the ground immediately, covering Atlas’ ears. “It’s the wail!” she yelled.

But before Phantom’s miniature wail could manifest into something deafening, Mark’s partner, Jacob Crowley, fired his taser. It locked onto Phantom’s arm, releasing volts of electricity into the screaming ghost.

Phantom fell to the forest floor, twitching and jerking as his yells projected into the sky above him. And just as soon as it started, it all stopped. The ghost let out one final cry of pain before his head lulled into unconsciousness, and the forest was quiet once again.

Cops were on the ghost at once, locking ecto-inhibitors onto his neck and hands and hoisting him up to be carried out to a vehicle. There was no telling how long the ghost would stay unconscious for. If they were lucky, they could dump him into the back of a police car before he woke up.

Sarah stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from her pants. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Everyone alright?” Chief Davis called out. “Any injuries?”

There was a chorus of ‘all clears!’ from around the scene.

“Nice shot, Mark,” Jacob said, putting his taser back in its holster.

“I had no idea tasers worked on ghosts,” Mark said.

“Me too. Lucky guess.”

“Damn right.”

Jacob was a seasoned detective, having worked for APD for fifteen years. Despite the age gap between the duo, he’d taken Mark right under his wing and the two got along swimmingly. What Jacob lacked in physical prowess, Mark made up for. And what Mark—although intelligent—lacked in experience, Jacob made up for tenfold.

“Alright!” Chief Davis announced to the crowd. A hush fell over the scene. “Let’s pick up where we left off. Finish collecting samples, and let’s get the body over to the coroner. Crowley, Abrams, and Johnson, head to the station with Phantom. I want him questioned. The rest of you, back to work!”

Sarah tugged on Atlas’ leash, following Mark and Jacob out of the woods.

“That’s incredible,” Mark said, stepping around the brush and onto the dirt trail. “Who would have thought it’d be Phantom’s body?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty insane to think about,” Sarah agreed. “It was just luck that Atlas stumbled across it too.”

Jacob nodded, his expression hidden behind his sunglasses. The sun peeked through the trees, highlighting his tan face and accenting the small lines that adorned his skin. “Whatever it was, there was clearly a cover up. Now the question remains on whether Phantom remembers what happened or not.”

“I think I remember reading a paper by the Fentons that said ghosts don’t remember the details of their deaths, just the general gist of what happened and the emotions they felt during it. And knowing that Phantom hasn’t exactly spent his time enacting revenge on any one person in particular, it’s unlikely that he remembers who killed him,” Mark said.

“Unless it was an accident.” Jacob ran his hand through his black and grey hair. “Phantom could be protecting them.”

“That could be true,” Sarah said. “It could explain why Phantom was so insistent that we stop investigating.”

“Kids these days…” Jacob muttered.

“Regardless, we’re going to solve this one. No matter what,” Mark said. “Phantom’s been tied to this town for a year, and we’re going to figure out why.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Sarah said, giving a mock salute.

The trio lapsed into silence, and the sounds of their shoes trudging against the dirt and rocks was all that filled the air.

It seemed almost insane that the body was Phantom’s. Though relatively new to Amity, his popularity had grown so quickly that it almost felt as if he'd been a cornerstone of Amity Park for years.

He was the hero, but also a bit of an enigma. He appeared when ghosts attacked, he fought them, said a few bad puns, inevitably won, said a few words to the public, and then would disappear. No one knew where he came from or where he went when he was finished with a fight, just that somehow he’d magically materialize the next time Amity was threatened.

Lately, the public had seen more of him outside of his fights, however. It wasn’t much, but there were the occasional sighting of him lounging around at the park or lazily flying under the moonlight. But even then, the question of “ Who was Phantom really?” remained a mystery.

Not for much longer.

Off in the distance, she spotted the police car in a clearing. “Meet you guys at the station?”

“Where’s your car?” Mark asked. “You need a ride?”

“Nah, mine’s just down the path a bit further. It’s fine, we can walk. Besides, I want to talk to Erin first before I leave.”

Mark glanced at Jacob, and then nodded. “Okay, see you there.”

---

Mark Johnson was a gifted kid. He grew up in the honors classes, graduated top of his class at the police academy, and was promoted to a detective after just five years on the force, the minimum requirement to be considered for detective positions in his department.

He was a quick thinker with a keen eye for detail, and he knew it.

Which is why when he hopped in the passenger’s seat of his vehicle to see an absolutely irate overpowered teenage ghost already awake in the back seat, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what the protocol was.

He’d been warned that the ghost was awake. “The fucker bites,” grumbled one of the city cops as Mark had walked by. Yes, he knew what he was walking into. But for some reason, it never occurred to him that dealing with a ghost may be different than a human. And why would it be different? Phantom may have been a dead teen, but he was still a teen. Teens were dumb, they were moody, they said and did impulsive things.

And yet, when he looked into Phantom’s glowering eyes, he instantly saw just out of depth he was.

Because although their training had covered ghosts—after all, this was Amity Park—the training always had to do with how destructive ghosts were, the best places to shoot them, how to maintain their ecto-guns, etc.

But talking to ghosts? Interacting with them?

Cuffing them and sticking them in the back of a vehicle to transport for questioning?

Yeah, the books didn’t have much to say about that.

Crowley’s gruff voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Alright, let’s go.” His partner slid into his seat and jammed his keys into the ignition.

“Right,” Mark said awkwardly, glancing back at the teen ghost.

Up close, Mark could see just how powerful this ghost was. He was small, even for a teen, but even without his powers he still emitted an aura that screamed danger.

Crowley pulled out of the parking lot, merging onto the road. Despite the obvious tension the ghost was building behind him, the veteran cop didn’t seem phased. He reached over and fiddled with his car stereo.

“You got any station you like?” Crowley asked, raising his voice.

The ghost didn’t respond, instead opting to continue simmering in his seat.

“I hope you don’t mind rock.” Crowley raised the volume, and the sounds of 80’s guitar filled the empty space in the car. “I got a kid about your age you know. Well, maybe a little younger. What are you, fourteen?”

The ghost’s eyes narrowed. “Fifteen.”

Mark blinked, surprised at how normal the ghost’s tone seemed to sound compared to the frantic echoing in the forest.

“Ah, well, close enough,” Crowley continued. “Anyways, she’s obsessed with this new stuff. What’s it called, Kpop? Tpop? Something like that. Plays it around the house all the time. I can’t stand it. I’ll never tell her that, but the modern pop shit just gives me a headache.”

Phantom’s eyes shifted over to the window.

“Johnson over here doesn’t agree.” Crowley nodded over to Mark. “He listens to that garbage all the time.”

Mark felt his face heat up. “I listen to electronic music. It’s a completely different genre.”

“Still sounds like crap, though.”

“Whatever you say, old man.”

Crowley scoffed, but otherwise kept silent. He was a good natured man with an unquestionable wit and preference for the “good old days.” But fortunately, he could take it just as well as he could dish it.

“I know it seems bad now, but eventually you’ll be thankful that dog found your body. We’ll be able to bring you justice,” Mark said.

“I don’t want justice. I want to be left alone.”

The car lapsed into silence, but it wasn’t a comfortable one. No matter how hard Mark tried, it was impossible to ignore the glowing, angry teen in the seat behind him. He wondered how much of that was because Phantom was the town’s ghost celebrity and how much was due to the fact that Phantom’s aura seemed to swallow the air around it.

Was the ghost somehow...projecting his irritation out to Mark and his partner? Could he even do that? Mark knew he was a powerful being, but was emotion manipulation one of his powers?

Phantom was the one to break the silence. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the station, of course,” Crowley answered easily.

“And the GIW?” the ghost asked, his voice tense.

Mark and Crowley exchanged a glance.

“Well…” Crowley started. “That depends on what happens when we get there.”

“What?”

Crowley hummed, stroking his brown and silver mustache. “Technically we have to turn you over to the Ghost Investigation Ward, but considering you’re a key witness on this case, I can’t say I’m so keen on turning you over. At least, not quite yet.”

“Great.” Phantom leaned back in his seat. “So let me see if I’m getting this right. You’re going to use me to figure out who this big bad mystery killer is, and then you’re going to dump me over to the government?”

“Not exactly. Think of it more like, your fate depends on your cooperation in this case.”

Phantom groaned. “I’m so fucked.”

“Why do you say that?” Mark asked.

“Because I’m boring. You guys think there’s some terrible person at large, when spoiler alert! It was just me.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “A suicide?”

“Sure, whatever you call it.” Phantom’s shoulders rose to his ears, and his face flushed green. “I...offed myself, okay? It’s boring.”

“That still doesn’t explain how your body ended up buried in the woods,” Mark commented.

“Does it matter?

“Well, it would make you a liar. So yes, I’d say it matters,” Crowley said.

Phantom lurched forward in his seat. “I’m not lying.”

“Then explain to me how your body ended up in the woods. You can’t have done it to yourself. There was an accomplice there. And if that’s the case, I’d be hard pressed to find out from the coroner if it was actually a suicide or, say, something else that you’re not telling us.”

“I’ve told you everything I know,” grumbled Phantom. “I’m not lying.”

Mark exchanged a look with Crowley before he twisted around, looking at the ghost directly. “Listen, I know how difficult this is. What happened to you was traumatic, I’m sure. We’re on your side here. We want to help you.”

Phantom averted his gaze.

“You had your whole life ahead of you. It’s not fair to you that it was cut so short. You never got the chance to grow up, right?”

“I don’t care about that,” Phantom hissed. He jerked his head up, and despite the ecto-inhibitors, the ghost’s eyes growed a ferocious green. “Shut up, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mark saw Crowley stiffen next to him.

“Phantom, listen to me. If you help us, we can help resolve this situation. Bring peace to your death.”

“Just so you can ship me off to the GIW, right? As per law?” Phantom straightened in his seat, his aura around him shining impossibly bright. “Forget it. I’ve decided I’m done with you assholes.”

“Wait! What are you—”

The ghost yelled and yanked his arms out, breaking the chain between his ecto-infused cuffs.

Mark scrambled in his seat for his ecto-gun, but Phantom was too fast. Before Mark could blink, the ghost disappeared.

Crowley slammed on the breaks, and the vehicle swerved, rolling onto a grassy field next to the highway. A few cars honked as they passed on by.

Mark panted in his seat, his head spinning wildly as he searched for the ghost, but it was no use. Phantom was gone. There was no trace of him in the sky.

“Holy shit,” the normally calm senior detective breathed. “Holy shit.”

“He just broke out of the ecto-inhibitors. How did he do that?”

Crowley unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. He yanked open the back door and stared at the empty seat.

“Holy shit.”

---

As soon as Sarah stepped through her front door, she knew something was wrong. Even without Atlas’ growled warning, the air felt off. It was cold, reminiscent of the chilling temperature from a ghost attack.

“Who’s there?” Sarah said, her hand reaching for her ecto-gun. “Show yourself.”

“You were the one that found my body, right?” Phantom popped into visibility. He floated an inch above the couch, his legs crossed and chin propped on his fist. “You and your dog found it.”

That wasn’t a question. He knew.

And he looked pissed.

Sarah stood by the door, debating her chances if she ran. Phantom could fly faster than she could run, and if she tried to escape, who knew how he’d react. She wouldn’t make it far.

“Well?” He pressed at her silence. “I’m right. Just admit it.”

“Yes.” Her lips barely moved.

Atlas gave another low growl.

“How.”

That wasn’t a question either.

“By chance,” she said.

He crossed his arms. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

Her fingers twitched. If she could only reach her phone without him noticing, she might be able to call the emergency line. She could get their conversation recorded, and she could also get help.

She just needed to distract him. “I was taking my dog for a walk. He went off the trail, and found your body.”

“Just like that? You just happened to stumble across it?”

“Well, Atlas here is a trained cadaver dog. This is his specialty.”

The ghost furrowed his brows. He slumped, running his fingers through his stark white hair. “But I thought I—” he huffed. “I thought I put it deep enough.”

Sarah was taken aback. “What do you mean, Phantom? You buried your own body?”

“Of course!” He shot forward. “I had to.”

“Why?”

“I—I just…” He seemed to realize that he’d said too much, and he sulked back to the couch. “I just had to. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, her brain struggling to work through the implications of that. “So does that mean nobody knows you’re dead?”

That puzzled look draped Phantom’s face once again, and he looked down at the carpet. Silence stretched between the duo, before Phantom muttered, “I don’t know.”

Even though her instincts were telling her to run, to pick up the phone and call for backup, something pulled her forward. She apprehensively made her way to the couch that Phantom was hovering just inches above, and sat down beside him. To her surprise, Phantom followed her lead, lowering himself onto the cushioned surface.

It was truly amazing how without his flared aura and powerful persona, Phantom really looked no different than any other teen. He was lost, confused, hurt.

Scared.

“Why don’t you want the police investigating this case?” Sarah asked.

“I just…” Phantom face screwed up as if he were sucking on a lemon. “It’s complicated.”

“What makes it complicated?”

“I don’t know. It just is.”

“Okay.” Trying to get Phantom to talk was like pulling teeth. “But you know that the police have to investigate, right? Legally?”

That got a reaction out of Phantom. His eyes brightened, and his mouth set into a snarl. “But that’s stupid! It’s my body, what gives them the right to mess with it? I thought people got to choose whether or not they wanted to press charges. I’m here and I’m telling you guys that I don’t want to press charges, that it was my fault I was ki—I died in the first place, and I buried my own fucking corpse in the woods!”

Sarah felt her jaw tighten. For once, she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aren’t there like laws that give people rights to their body post-mortem or something? I’m here and I don’t consent to my body being messed with, so shouldn’t that count enough?”

Studies on ecto-psychology were lacking, and conflicted more than not, if Sarah were honest. She knew that ghosts functioned differently than humans, and she knew that some ghosts were more intelligent than others, but she also knew that ghosts, due to their Obsessions, were easily swept into delusion.

Phantom was a ghost. He wasn’t a person, he didn’t have rights like humans did.

But he clearly thought he did. Or at least, he thought he deserved them.

And Sarah wasn’t knowledgeable enough to understand where the line between true cognitive function and delusion lied.

Instead, she settled for the next best thing. “True, but those laws don’t hold if a crime took place.”

Phantom groaned. “Oh for the last time, there was no crime! It was just me!”

“But the police don’t know that.”

“I just told them!” He threw his hands up. “Literally right before I got here!”

“Yes but—” You’re a ghost. “—were you even reported deceased? Does your family know what happened to you? Your parents?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.”

“No,” he fumed. “No, it doesn’t. It really, really doesn’t.”

Sarah peered at the teen. His brows were pinched tightly together, and he was glaring at the ground. His mouth twitched, as if to elaborate, but then his jaw clamped back up and whatever thought nearly passed through his lips were locked again.

Death was a sensitive subject for ghosts, and Sarah knew that just as well as anyone else. But there was something else there, something Phantom didn’t want to admit. Something that he was hiding.

But why? Was he trying to forget his living family? His old friends? What would drive a person to do that?

Was it abuse?

“Phantom,” Sarah said gently. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me about what happened to you, and I understand that the memories from your past can be painful. It’s okay that you have a lot of complicated feelings—”

“I don’t,” he cut in. “I don’t have complicated feelings. I’m—I’m just a ghost. We don’t…” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

“Wait, Phantom—”

He darted up and out of the chair. “No. I don’t remember my past and it doesn’t matter to me now. Please, tell your friends to stop investigating. It’s over, I don’t care. I just want my body back.”

Sarah stood. “Hang on, Phantom. Why don’t we go down to the station and talk about this together?”

Without so much as a glance behind him, Phantom disappeared, taking the cool chill that had permeated her living room with him.

“He’s hiding something,” Sarah told Atlas, who hovered protectively near her legs. “He’s definitely hiding something. The question is, what?”

---

“You guys really gave me an interesting one this time,” Williams, the coroner, said, adjusting his glasses. “Assuming this is Phantom’s body, the boy did not have a peaceful end.”

“What happened to him?” Mark said, peering down at the sallow remains of the corpse.

“Well, looking at some of the protruding bones, I noticed something rather interesting. It’s hard to make out, but on what’s left of his skin you can see some interesting lines.”

Mark squinted down, trying to pick out whatever the corner was looking at.

“Yeah, the body’s not in great shape, and so the cause of death can’t be determined for certain. But if you look closely, you can see what appears to be some sort of lightning scarring on his body, along with burn marks and tearing along the rest of his body.”

Mark looked up, puzzled. “You mean...he was electrocuted?”

“Most likely. That, or the electrocution took place just before his death,” the doctor said.

Mark stood for a moment, stumped. He’d expected the boy to have died of something more common in teens, like stab wounds or gunshot wounds. But electrocution?

Crowley leaned in, inspecting the body. “He could have been in an accident. That could explain why he was so angry about us investigating. Whoever covered up his death was likely a close friend or family member.”

“Damn,” Mark rested his back against the wall. “And that means he’s probably gone off to tell whoever was with him about this investigation, which will give them all time to prepare their stories.”

“Assuming there even was a someone else,” Crowley pointed out. “For all we know, Phantom could have been by himself.”

“What, so he buried his own dead body in the woods?”

Crowley shrugged. “He can interact with human objects, can he not?”

Mark grimaced, trying to chase away the mental images of a dead fifteen year old ghost digging his own grave.

“That’s pretty dark.”

“Oh!” The old man jumped up, moving to the corpse once again. “But you haven’t even gotten to the best part! This corpse is simply incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it, truly. I thought my scales were all broken, had to go measure other objects just to be sure. But the science doesn’t lie on this one! Simply fascinating.”

“What is it?” Crowley’s gruff voice slashed through the bubbly coroner’s rambling.

“Well,” Williams picked up a clipboard on the table. “Take a look for yourselves. Phantom’s human body just...doesn’t add up. That’s the only way I can describe it. His bones are significantly lighter than they should be.”

“How is that possible?”

“I have no idea. Even if our victim had osteoporosis, I’ve never seen bones this light before. And here’s another catch, is that even though they’re light and porous, they seem almost stronger than a regular bone.”

“This doesn’t make sense.” Mark peered down at the kid once again. He looked entirely unrecognizable from the hero in the skies. His skin was decayed, and—

“Hang on, is that black hair?” Mark pointed to the cadaver’s skull. “Phantom has white hair.”

Williams clasped his hands. “Yes! I nearly forgot about that one. Again, assuming this is Phantom’s body, it seems he had black hair when he was alive. I believe the hair samples, fingerprints, and other samples are already in the labs being tested. Hopefully they can pull a match—”

“Yup, they’re being tested as we speak. In a few hours, we can ID Phantom’s human body and put this whole case to rest,” Crowley said.

“I just wonder why his hair turned white. It must be some ghostly attribute. It makes me wonder what else about Phantom’s body changed, although he looks about the same height as his human counterpart. I wonder how much alteration is chosen by him and how much is ghost biology.”

“You’ll have to ask the Fentons about that,” Mark said.

Crowley scoffed. “Those lunatics? Please.”

“They may be lunatics, but they know their stuff.”

“I’d rather ask the GIW for help than the Fentons,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “Which speaking of, since we don’t yet have concrete evidence that this is Phantom’s body, the Ghost Investigation Ward hasn’t been summoned. But if the labs come back with some solid evidence, then this case may be taken out of our hands.”

Mark refrained from cursing. Internally, he knew that would be a likely outcome. But this was such a big case, and although he never voiced his opinion at work, he had always been a bit of a Phantom fan.

Well, aside from some of the vigilantism that the ghost participated in. Although well intentioned, at the end of the day Phantom was a teenager. They weren’t exactly known for thinking through the consequences before jumping headfirst into situations.

“Have they been alerted at all?” Mark asked.

“Not yet. But we’ll see when the labs come back.”

Mark nodded, studying the misshapen body. It wouldn’t be that easy though, would it? This was Phantom they were talking about. Surely the ghost wouldn’t have just let the police keep his corpse for so long unless he was confident that nothing would come out of this.

Surely he had a plan.

---

“What do you mean he showed up at your house?” Mark’s alarmed voice sounded from the other line.

Sarah pinched her cell between her ear and her shoulder. Hands free, she picked up a rag and began drying off her damp dinner plate. “Just what I said. He showed up at my house after he escaped from the police van and he told me that he buried his own body.”

“Why would he admit that to you? He didn’t even fess that much up to us. He must know that you’d talk to us.”

“Perhaps.” Sarah slotted the plate back in her cabinet. “I wonder if a part of him was almost relieved to tell me.”

“Did he mention anything about who he was with? He’s definitely protecting someone.”

“No, and honestly I’m not sure if anyone else knows about him. Mark, this seems like an accidental death. Did you get the coroner’s report yet?”

“Yup, death via electrocution, or at least that’s their best guess. A pretty gruesome way to go if you ask me.”

She paused, her hand frozen reaching for the dripping pot on her counter. Electrocution? That was certainly a rare case.

“It’s probably how he became a ghost,” Sarah said. “Ghosts form from tragic deaths, right? Electrocution is intense enough to form a ghost from.”

“You could be onto something. Depending on the lab results, we may have to call in the experts on this one.”

“The GIW?”

Mark hesitated. “We might...try to keep them out of this one. We’re trying to get Phantom to cooperate with us on this case. If they get involved, that’s sure to scare him off.”

“That’s smart.” Sarah wiped the now damp cloth along the base of the pot. “Did he say anything in the car with you before he ran off?”

“A bit, not too much though. Crowley tried to warm him up, but the ghost was too suspicious of us. Though, he did get defensive when we implied he was lying about his death.”

She internally groaned. That would explain why he seemed so pissed when he got to her house.

Well, that among other reasons.

“You’re an idiot. Did no one ever tell you that ghosts are sensitive about their deaths?”

“Hey, it’s not like ghost psychology is a part of our training!” Mark defended. “Hence why we’ll likely need to call in an expert.”

“Well maybe it should be,” Sarah mused. On her own, she’d admit that she’d read more than a few papers on ghosts on her own time. In such a short amount of time, ghosts had cemented themselves as an integral part of Amity Park. In her mind, the police would be remiss not to do their homework on ghosts too.

Although, the state didn’t care much about how much training police received on anything, much less human and ghost psychology. It had only been due to her sister taking the career path as a social worker that Sarah had any expert knowledge on how to handle cases of behavioral outbursts in severe cases of mental health.

But she was just one person in a sea of other cops, detectives, and other professionals in law enforcement. And unfortunately for them, ignorance was a plague in law enforcement.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he got pretty defensive with me too.”

“What happened?”

“Like with you, he left before I could really get anything out of him. But when I asked who knew about his death, he just told me that he didn’t remember anyone from his past life.”

Mark was silent on the other line.

“Yeah, I don’t believe him either.” Sarah put away the last dish and hung her kitchen towel back along the side of her oven. She pulled her phone out from her shoulder and continued, saying, “I’ve been doing some research since then and I read Maddie Fenton’s recent paper on ghost cognition. Now I know her specialty is biology, but she’s actually really onto something here.”

“Give me the rundown, Adams.”

“The paper’s basically an analysis of over a dozen recordings she’s taken while out on the field interacting with and following cognitive ghosts, as in ghosts who can at least hold a basic conversation. Her findings are essentially that there is a correlation between higher power ghosts and their memories, although she said age of the ghost could affect this as well. She said a level six ectoplasmic ghost Ember showed vivid signs of remembering certain details of her high school memories including a teenage boy and her desires of fame, as well as a pair of level five biker ghosts she encountered, who wanted to relive their days road tripping together.”

“And what’s Phantom’s level?” Mark asked.

“According to the Ghost Investigation Ward, Phantom was classified as a level seven specter.”

“And yet he said he didn’t remember anything? Well, that’s not exactly surprising. We’re investigating his death, which he doesn’t seem too happy about. It’s no wonder he’s willing to lie about that. Especially if my theory is right in that he’s protecting someone.”

Sarah sat down at her kitchen table and drummed her fingers against the wooden surface. Off in the distance, she could hear Atlas chewing on a bone.

“But that can’t be the only reason you brought this up, is it?” Mark’s tentative voice sounded from the other line.

“Yeah I just.” Sarah sighed. “I just can’t shake the feeling that he’s not just hiding this because he wants to protect anyone from the police. I don’t know...I just think there’s something deeper at play here.”

“Whatever it is, we’ll find out tomorrow. Lab reports should be in by then.”

“Tomorrow? That’s a bit delayed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah well apparently they got corrupted.” Mark sighed in audible annoyance. “Forensic ran all the samples and all of them showed errors. Nothing was usable.”

“You think someone sabotaged it on purpose?” Sarah asked.

“Most likely. But we have plenty of samples, so whoever’s trying to delay this won’t get far. If it happens again, the head of the department will get involved. Either way, we’ll know who Phantom is sooner than he’d like.”

“Well, I’ll keep my finger’s crossed.”

“Talk to you later, Abrams.”

---

Nothing felt right.

His body was hot and cold. It tingled, ached, was numb. Anxiety surrounded him like a blanket, wrapping his body in its arms.

He was trapped.This was wrong.

Nothing felt real.

Danny didn’t understand at first. He just knew he had to leave his room and he had to go somewhere. It was instinct, pure instinct. He couldn’t explain how he knew to teleport or where he was going, but he knew.

And then it was worse than what he could have imagined.

It had been two days since the police found his...his…

Body. It was his body.

Danny twisted his t-shirt in his hands. He wanted to stand up and walk out of the room, but if he did that then Lancer would ask questions and Danny didn’t know how to deal with that. As it stood, he was barely holding onto his human form. His core was aching to transform, to let his ghost half take over. He knew that if a single thing went wrong, his core would simply override his stubborn willpower and transform anyway, class be damned.

Because his core didn’t care about Shakespear or whatever playwright of the week Lancer had decided upon. His core only knew one thing: that his body was in the hands of the police.

And that the police were...ugh. Danny didn’t even want to think about it.

He wasn’t a science experiment to be tested upon, he was a person. A person who deserved to be treated with respect. A person who deserved to be left alone.

And yet those detectives don’t care. They’re mocking you. They’re poking and prodding at you. Are you going to take this? It's YOUR body. You need it back. Just take it. They can’t stop you, it’s YOURS.

But they could stop him. And Danny knew this because he’d already tried last night, and he couldn’t even get close to his body.

Stupid ghost shields, stupid GiW, stupid anti-ghost tech around the morgue.

It had only been a few days, and yet to Danny it felt like it had been a year. The fact that he had managed to go to school at all today he considered a huge accomplishment. Even if he hadn’t even managed to open his notebook in any of his classes, much less remember if he’d been assigned detention or not for missing homework. Knowing him, he probably had.

But that didn’t matter to him. Not now, and possibly not ever again.

His future was one bad day away from being over. By the end of the week, he could be property of the US government. What would Shakespear or the quadratic formula matter to him then? If he was strapped to a lab table for the rest of his half-life?

Mr. Lancer called out to him, but Danny didn’t respond. He felt a hand dully poke his shoulder, and he felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t look up from his desk, he couldn’t open his book, he couldn’t do this.

His body moved on its own. Standing up, walking out of the classroom, ignoring the protests of his teacher or the laughter of his classmates.

He couldn’t do this.

School didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was ensuring his safety, and to do that he needed to get his body back.

He pushed a side door open, transforming nearly as soon as he stepped out the door. He felt the tug at his core, and he followed his instincts to a brick building not too far from the police station.

There. That must have been the morgue.

That was where his body was.

He landed, and stared at the entrance of the brick building. He wanted to step forward, to reach out and rip open the doors. He wanted so badly to fly through, take his body, and go home.

But he could see it. It was invisible to him in his human form, but there was a faint ripple around the building.

And there was his problem. The building was locked to those who didn’t have a keycard access, so Danny couldn’t just walk in as a human, but he couldn’t phase in due to the ghost shield around the building.

Which meant that he had to stand outside and wait for someone to let him in. Which was never going to happen.

He crossed his arms, glaring at the brick building. He could try to destroy the outside of the building, thus hopefully destroying the shield, but that could potentially endanger the people inside.

Not to mention his body. If the building fell, he could harm his body. Which he would rather die again than let that happen.

His core tugged impatiently, desperate for Danny to reunite with his other half. But he couldn’t.

It was impossible.

A car pulled up behind him, but Phantom didn’t pay it any mind. He stood, staring at the building. He needed to figure out a way inside. If he could only get inside then he could solve everything.

“Phantom?” a familiar voice called out from behind him.

Danny ignored the voice. No one else mattered, he just needed to get inside.

“Phantom, I need you to step away from the building,” the voice said.

Danny shushed the voice, glaring at the door.

He was so close and now someone was going to ruin it for him. He was just one stupid shield away. If he turned human and phased through the door, the shield would clock him the moment he activated his powers.

No, this was no good.

“Come on, Phantom. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” a second familiar voice piped up.

“I need to get inside,” Danny finally said.

“No you don’t. Trust me, you need to step away from the building.”

Danny ignored the voice. It was so annoying. It didn’t understand what he needed. “I have something inside. I need it back.”

“I know, bud,” the original voice said. “But I can’t let you get inside. You know this.”

“Why not?” Phantom finally turned around to be faced with the two cops from the other day. To his surprise, neither of them had their weapons raised. “Why not let me inside? It’s my body. Mine. Not yours.”

“This is an investigation,” the older cop, Crowley, said.

Danny narrowed his eyes, allowing the glow to flair. “I didn’t ask to be investigated.”

The younger cop, Johnson, nodded. “I know, but we have to. I know you don’t understand, but it’s our duty to investigate all missing kids, including you.”

Danny glanced back to the building. If he could only find a way inside, he could just forget these past few days had ever happened. He could forget about the cops, he could forget about the stupid investigation, the fact that the GIW would likely find out he’s a halfa, the increasing possibility of him becoming a lab experiment, all of it.

If he could just get inside.

“Why don’t you come back to the station with us. We can talk more there and you can tell us why you don’t want to be found. Look, no guns and no cuffs this time. It’s up to you. If you want to talk, it’s on your terms,” Johnson said.

“It’s not,” Danny whispered. “It’s not my terms. None of this is my terms.” He glared back at the officers, his voice getting louder. “Why won’t you take the hint? Just stop all of this. Stop investigating, stop sticking your nose in other people’s business. Let me have my body back, please, just let me see it just for a moment. I just—I...I need to see it. I need it.”

Crowley shook his head. “No can do. Sorry, Phantom.”

“This is stupid. This is so fucking—ugh!” Danny threaded his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

Danny didn’t wait for Johnson to finish his statement. He shot to the sky, trying to ignore the stinging in his eyes. It was just the crisp air against his face, wasn’t it? He wasn’t getting emotional over this.

That would be ridiculous. He wasn’t helpless, he was going to figure this out. He’d gotten himself in this predicament, he could get himself out of it.

He just needed to figure out a way into the building. Then he could get his body back, he could hide it somewhere far away, somewhere nobody would ever find it, and then everything could go back to the way it was.

That was it. He could do this.

Right?

---

Mark studied the files slack-jawed.

There was just no way this was possible. Even with Amity Park’s high concentration of ghosts, he’d never seen anything like this before.

“They ran them again?” Mark said, looking up at Crowley. “They ran them again and they still got this?”

“Yup.” Crowley’s typical lackadaisical expression was replaced with something more hard-set. “Labs re-ran all tests and still got nothing but errors.”

“But I don’t understand. How is this possible?” Mark held up the lab results in his hands. “How is it that every single molecule of Phantom’s human body was covered in ectoplasm? Right down to the DNA?”

Crowley leaned against the wall. “In all my years as a detective, this is a first for me.”

“It must be someone working for him, right?” Mark said. “The science doesn’t lie.”

“No, indeed the science doesn’t lie,” Williams said, rounding the corner of the station. He placed a manila folder and a coffee mug down on the empty conference table and offered them a cheerful grin. “Interesting reports, eh?”

“Please tell me you’re here to explain these,” Mark said, raising the files in his hand.

“Yeah.” Crowley stroked his silver mustache. “I’d certainly like to know what exactly is so interesting about corrupted DNA reports.”

“We can’t even ID the victim with these.”

Williams’ smile grew, and his face crinkled in delight. “See, that’s where you’re wrong! Now, we might not be able to ID the human body that this boy once inhabited, but at the very least we can officially confirm that it’s Phantom’s body.”

“Explain,” Crowley said.

Williams opened the manila folder and began shuffling through the papers inside. “There was a substance in particular that was messing up all the lab results, so forensics investigated further and found that it was ectoplasm. And when they tried to remove it to isolate only the organic material they found that they couldn’t.”

“How?” Mark asked.

“Because the ectoplasm had fused with the body’s DNA.” Williams lifted a piece of paper like a proud parent showing off their child’s report card. “I got some more samples and had forensics run tests on all different body parts, and found that every single cell had its own DNA corrupted with ectoplasm. And when we ran the ectosignature through the database, we found an exact match to Phantom’s own ectosignature.”

“So this was really Phantom.” Crowley didn’t sound surprised by the revelation.

“Bingo,” Williams said.

“But this doesn’t really make sense,” Mark insisted. “If this level of DNA corruption happened during ghost formation, surely we would have records of other bodies like this as well.”

Williams tapped his head with his finger. “Maybe we do, and we just don’t know. Phantom is a powerful ghost, is he not? Perhaps this DNA corruption can only occur in powerful ghost formations, and perhaps Phantom is the first powerful ghost with a body we’ve found and have been able to run our equipment on in modern times.”

“Maybe…” Mark’s voice drifted. He wasn’t sure if it was something Sarah Abrams had said to him on the phone, but he felt like there was a large piece of the puzzle he was missing.

He sighed, placing his manila folder down on the table. “I think it’s time to call in the experts.”

Crowley stared at him, his typically crinkled eyes widening to that of a bug. “You don’t mean…”

“Yup,” Mark said. “It’s time to bring in the Fentons.”

---