#phan phicc

“Welcome! Welcome! To Lance Thunder’s Tonight Show! No longer wishing he took that job in Minneapolis!” The man paused, slicked back his hair, and flashed a bleached white smile at the cameras as canned laughter played in the background. Unfortunately, there was no live audience tonight. No way corporate would ever have signed off on that. ‘Oh no, Lance, too many people would be hurt when this inevitably blows up’, yeah, thanks Jerry, no worries about him getting injured, though, right?

“So tonight, I have two very special guests! Now I’m sure many of you are all dying,” he chuckled at the word as he drew it out, “to know who.”

He leaned back in his chair and pointed at the empty one next to him. “So, in that case, tell us who you love, and welcome Ember McLain!” 

On cue, the rockstar appeared in a burst of flame.  She leaned over the side of the chair as she flung her hair over her shoulder. The two of them waited for a moment as a prerecorded cheer rang out. She flashed a smile at Lancer, one that was a little more teeth than humor. “Hey there, Lance, no hard feelings about the hair, right?”

Lance patted down his hair, “Uh, no, no! None at all!” he laughed, nervousness breaking his stage persona for just a moment. He coughed into his hand and then picked up his notes. “It was an accident. I’m sure.”

Ember’s smile grew, and she chuckled. “It wasn’t.”

“Anyways,” Lance said, voice cracking as he suddenly became very aware of the fangs in that smile. “Ms. McLain-”

“Seriously, call me Ember,” Ember interrupted, “McLain was what everyone called my mother.” Ember punctuated the statement by making an overly large gagging sound and sticking her tongue towards the camera. 

Lance laughed, hiding his nervousness behind professional cheer. Besides, the worst she could do to him right now is mind control him on TV. He works in entertainment; mind control would just cut out a few steps in the process for his producers. “Ember it is then,” he said, looking down at his notes before glancing back up. “So I have got to ask… when we approached you for an interview on our show, we honestly didn’t expect you to say yes.”

Ember threw her head back and laughed. “Really? Then why did you send that girl over?”

Lancer chuckled. “Apparently, it was a dare slash rite of initiation.”

“Welcome to Amity Park!” Ember bellowed, leaning back into her chair, shaking her head. “You guys should promote her or give her a raise or something. Only person I’ve seen run right into a ghost fight without any kind of backup and all she wanted to do was ask me a question. So I guess you’re wondering why I said yes then?”

Lance nodded. “I personally was hoping it was an apology for lighting my hair on fire.”

“Nope, sorry to disappoint,” Ember said, flashing another too pointy smile at the hapless host. She waved it off with a flick of her hand. “Besides, that was like four years ago. You gotta get over it.”

“No, four years ago was when you kidnapped all the adults and made us exercise for a week.”

“Oh… Yeah. Sorry, sometimes I get my, ah, excursions mixed up.”

Lance shrugged with a chuckle. “That one turned out for the best, though. I was in the best shape of my life after that. The missus was very happy.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” Ember laughed, before growing a little shy. “Actually, well… uh…” She fumbled as she fiddled with her hair. “My boyfriend was telling me I should do something like this. Obviously, I’ve been out of the public limelight for a bit…”

“If by that you mean you haven’t attempted to take over the world the last two years or so, then yes.”

“Yeah, that…” Ember sighed, the action making some of her hair flutter about, “Well, he’d been egging me on, telling me if I wanted to get my name out there in a way that isn’t followed by the words ‘multiple felonies’, something like this might help.”

Lancer threw several of his note pages behind him. “Well! That saves me several lead-in questions!” He leaned over his desk. “So, the question that I’ve been asked many many times to ask you. Is it true that you’re in a committed relationship?” Ember rolled her eyes, but Lance held up a hand. “AND,” he began, interrupting Ember’s eye roll, “Your last album was, in fact, dedicated to him?”

Ember blushed and put her head in her hands. “Oh my god, you’re going for the sappy stuff first?”

“My nephew was quite distraught about it, so yes. Timmy has been asking for a while.”

Ember gave him a skeptical look. “And how old is Timmy?”

Lance shrugged. “He’s eight.” 

“Alright, alright! In that case, yeah, I’m sorry Timmy, but I’m definitely taken” Ember chuckled.

“He’ll be so crushed,” Lance sighed, before leaning forward in a way that definitely reminded Ember of Kitty fishing for gossip. “And the album?”

She looked away, trying to hide a blush spreading across her cheeks, but she was smiling brightly. “I’ll admit it. It’s 100% dedicated to my boyfriend…” She paused and tilted her head. “Well… 70% to him, the other 30% is towards the girls who let him slip through their fingers.”

Lance let out a whistle. “So he’s a catch?”

“Eh, about half of one,” Ember said, laughing. “But I think he’ll get the rest of the way there. Eventually.”

Lance let out a hum. “So which one was the inspiration for your cover of Living on a Prayer?” 

Ember chuckled. “Well, definitely for my boyfriend. It’s actually part of why we got together!”

“Really?” Lance exclaimed. “That sounds a bit like a story, is that how you two met?”

“Oh, no, we had your normal meet-cute; just the two of us running into each other at the same place. But, no, I was out flying one night. I was pissed cause I had gotten into a fight with my best friend ‘cause she and her boyfriend were just… all over each other. No!” She stopped Lance from saying anything by throwing her hand out and holding up a finger. “I was not jealous.”

“Never said you were.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I am now.”

“Anyways!” Ember continued. I was out flying, and I heard someone playing Livin’ on a Prayer, and I just stopped.” She let out a sigh and looked off into the distance. “It… brought me back. It was one of the last songs I listened to before…” she paused for a moment and licked her lips. She reached down and grabbed the bottle of water that was set out before the show and twisted the cap off. “Before I died,” she finished.

Lance blinked, obviously not expecting that answer as Ember drank from the water bottle. 

“It was an instant favorite of mine,” she brushed some of her hair behind her ears, “We've got each other, and that's a lot for love. We'll give it a shot” She recapped the bottle and rolled it around in her hands. “Yeah, that rang so true for me. I was going through a lot at the time. My parents… well…to say they weren’t great would be putting it mildly.” She shrugged. “My mom had broken my guitar a few times because I played ‘satanic’ music. And my father wasn’t in the picture... Not to mention, school sucked because I didn’t fit in with everyone.”

She placed the bottle down at the table and glanced at Lance, who kept his mouth shut. Letting the guests ramble was his job at the best of times, and there was something about the way she was speaking that made Lance sure interrupting her would be the last thing he did. 

“But it was okay. I had a boyfriend who meant the world to me,” she leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I remember my philosophy teacher telling us we’re trapped in our own minds, how nothing is real except for what we think. He tried to draw parallels.” Her voice dropped in the approximation of her old teacher’s voice. “He says he loves you. You think he loves you. You believe he loves you.” She snapped her gaze to Lance and snarled, “Right up to the moment he dumps you.”

Despite himself, Lance jumped back, and Ember ran her hand down her face. “So the night I died, I had stayed up the entire night listening to that song on repeat, and I cried myself to sleep with the headphones around my ears because I couldn’t let my mom know that I was listening to the devil’s music.”  She pulled her hand away. “So I never heard people shouting to get out of the house when the fire started.”

Lance opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. Ember didn’t blame him. She had gone heavy real quick from such a light-hearted question. She shook her head, the faraway look in her eyes vanishing as she forced herself back to the present, and smiled almost apologetically. “So, yeah, I’m flying through Amity Park, and I hear someone playing that song, and I had to know who it was. And wouldn’t you know? I turn around a corner, and I find the guy I’d been crushing on for a year or so, trying to play the song and sing along at the same time.”

She smirked and leaned forward. “He was fucking terrible at it too.”

Lance cracked a smile and took the hook, grateful for the tension breaker. “Did you tell him that?”

“Immediately!” Ember laughed, “I flew up and took the guitar from him and shouted, ‘We’re starting this from the top!’ and he was so shocked that he didn’t know how to respond at first, so he just went with it!” She laughed. “He told me later, it was so not what he thought I’d do, and he couldn’t figure out what he should do in response. So he panicked-”

“Shocking,” deadpanned Lance, to a brief burst of prerecorded laughter.

“- and he just listened to what I told him to do. We wound up spending the entire night playing and singing.”

She shrugged. “Neither of us had really thought we’d be dating, but we both definitely think of that as our first date.”

Someone off stage coughed, making both Ember and Lance look up at them. They pointed at their wrist with an expectant look on their face. Lance glanced at the clock and gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ember, I wanted to ask you a few more questions before we invite our second guest to the stage, but time is running out!”

Ember reached down and grabbed her water bottle. “Oh, of course.”

Lance looked at the camera. “Alright, folks, if you thought Ember was one hell of a surprise, wait until you hear about this one!” Lance reached under his desk and put on some football padding over his suit. 

Ember raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to spring an obstacle course on me, dipstick, I’m setting your hair on fire again.”

Lance patted it down and ensured it was locked in place. “Look, you know who the next guest is! So just in case this turns into a battle zone, I want to be ready.”

If possible, Ember looked less impressed. “And you’re not covering your head?”

“Hey, I spent a lot of time on my hair, alright? Somebody reminded me how precious it can be!” Lance sniped, before turning toward the camera. “Love him or hate him, everyone’s got an opinion. It’s the one and only Danny Phantom!” Lance said, sweeping his hand toward the other seat. 

When nothing happened.

Ember began to cackle. “Oh, god, seriously? He’s late?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Danny said, appearing out of thin air. “You guys were about to have a technical issue. I had to take care of it,” he said, patting a thermos on his side.

Ember frowned and groaned. “Ugh, was Technus really trying something?”

Danny frowned and grabbed the bottle in front of him, tearing it open and drinking from it like a man dying of thirst. He drained the whole thing and put it back. “Yeah, uh… he said he was trying to help out Skulker.”

Ember groaned and put her head in her hands. 

Lance looked between the two. “Uh, so for those who don’t know, I mean, our viewers, of course. Who?”

Phantom sighed. “Technus is a ghost whose existence is 100% tied to technology, and Skulker is-”

“My ex from three years ago.” Ember cut off. “The man will just. Not. Take. A. HINT!” 

Danny waved the thermos around. “No worries though, Technus is in here, and I beat Skulker like three days ago, so he won’t be around for a while.”

Ember turned toward Danny, “Wait, really? He usually terrorizes the weaker ghosts after losing to you, and they’ve been fine as of late.”

Danny paused. “Yeah, I even…” He looked at the thermos in his hands. “Oh, whoops…”

“Whoops?”

“I may… or may not… have forgotten to release him into the ghost zone…”

Ember threw her head back and cackled. “Ha! So if I were to say, bury that 2000 feet underground…” she mused as she reached out for the thermos.

Danny held the thermos away from her. “No, Em, the core of the earth would melt the thermos and let them out.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“... Oh, right, and it’s immoral or whatever. That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?”

Lance coughed. “I couldn’t help but notice. Em?”

The two ghosts turned toward Lance. “Oh, yeah,” Ember began, “he calls me that sometimes. We’ve had something of a working relationship for four years now, after all.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” Danny chipped in. 

“Among other things, yes,” Ember laughed. She reached down and grabbed her water bottle and offered it to Danny. He nodded in appreciation and sipped as Lance brought his notes around. 

“So, Phantom, or do you prefer Danny?”

Danny shrugged and pulled the water bottle away. “Either’s fine.”

“Just not Inviso-bill,” Ember said, smirking with her eyes alight with glee, “Or inviso-bill-board.”

“Sam never should have told you about that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before returning to his drink. “I’m not dredging that one up on live TV.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad!” protested Ember, the widest shit-eating grin on her face.

“It is exactly that bad, how was I supposed to know intangibility didn’t work like that,” Danny shot back, flicking water at Ember’s hair. It hissed as the droplets evaporated. “Besides, I don’t want to deprive her of being the only one able to tell that story. I have to think of others first, Em.”

“How noble,” she snarked.

“Danny,” Lance interrupted the side conversation, though the way he was looking between the two of them, he really didn’t want to. “Since we’re on the subject, after all, does your girlfriend know you got a little nickname for Ember here.”

Danny choked on his water as Ember cackled. “What?”

“Oh god,” Ember laughed, “your face!” 

Danny wiped away his lips. “I’m sorry, what?”

Lance pointed at Ember. “Does your girlfriend know you call Ember, Em?”

“How did you know I had a girlfriend?”

“To be honest, you just told me.” Danny made a sound somewhat between a whine and the sound the computer makes when it tries to load audio and freezes in the middle of playing the first note. Lance laughed, though not as hard as Ember. “But there have been rumors, also, the other day when you fought Skulker, you shouted at him for interrupting date night. Congratulations to both of you, now my nephew AND my niece are going to be heartbroken.”

Danny dropped his head in his hands. “I’m terrible at this secret girlfriend thing….” 

“Yup!” Ember popped. She leaned toward him. “Sooooo… What does your girlfriend think about you calling me Em?”

Danny glared at her. “I think she doesn’t mind at all.”

Lance raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You think she doesn’t mind?”

“I know she doesn’t mind,” Danny said as he turned his glare to Lance.

“Oh, come off it, Phantom,” Ember said, pushing him lightly. “You can’t blame him for wondering.” 

“Well, now I’m also wondering about this secret girlfriend thing,” Lance began, “How long have you two been dating.”

“Two years,” Phantom said immediately. 

“Two years! Hey, you managed to keep it a secret this long! That’s not too bad.” Lance frowned and put his chin in his hand. “Though, I have to ask why keep it secret?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s actually kind of why I agreed to come on this week. See, there are people out there who’d want to hurt her. Specifically, the U.S Government has a branch dedicated to hunting me down and trying to destroy me.”

“Not just you,” Ember pointed out, “It’s for all ghosts.” 

“Really?” Lance began, though he didn’t quite manage the surprise needed to make the question feel believable. 

Danny nodded. “The Guys in White, they were attached to the budget in 1978, you can look it up. They’re also referred to as the Ghostly Investigation Ward sometimes. They have a very shoot first, and don’t bother with questions approach to ghosts, and they keep themselves very hush, hush. Oh, wait, I just told a journalist about them on live TV!” He slapped his palm to his forehead. “Whoops again!”

Lance nodded in response, writing a note down. “I’ll be sure to look them up. So they’d attack your girlfriend to get to you?”

“They have shot at civilians who looked ghostly. It wasn’t something I was willing to chance.”

Ember huffed. “Some advice, Baby Pop, that’s something you should let her decide.”

Phantom gave her a look. “I did talk it over with her. She had her own worries too.” 

“You could have led with that.” 

Danny extended a hand towards Lance, “He asked why I was keeping it a secret!”

Lance held up a finger. “Actually, I asked why it was kept a secret, not why you were keeping it a secret.”

“Lance… Please… I need you on my side here…” Danny looked at Lance with the expression of a kicked puppy.

Lance reached down and pulled out a riot shield. “Danny, if you’ve watched my show before, you would know I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m an instigator. Also, she scares me.” He ducked behind the shield. “So… does your girlfriend know Ember calls you Baby Pop?”

“Forget that!” Ember said, turning around. “Is your girlfriend hot?”

“Yes.” There was no thought behind that statement, just an immediate declaration of fact. 

Ember pressed forward, leaning more toward Danny. “Out of ten?”

“Eleven.” 

Ember laughed and then smirked. “Well…. How’s she doing.”

“How's she doing?” Danny repeated, raising an eyebrow. He glanced between Ember and Lance, frowning. 

Ember glanced at Lance and then back at Phantom, giving him a nod. “Yeah, how is she doing?”

Danny blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “I dunno. How is she doing?”

Ember laughed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m doing great right now, thanks for asking.”

Lance peeked over the riot shield. “Wait… you two?”

“You never did ask who we were dating.” Ember pointed out, laughing. 

“You said you had a standard meet-cute!”

“We did!”

Danny sighed and put his head in his hand. “Ember, please stop telling people that you trying to crush my head in with your guitar is our ‘meet -cute.’”

“But it was!”

Lance blinked as he put the riot shield away. “Wait, she tried to kill you? Doesn’t that get in the way of the relationship at all?”

Ember laughed as she stood up. She walked around to Danny’s chair and leaned on him. “Are you kidding? If you don’t try to kill this guy, he loses interest in you pretty quickly.”

Danny groaned. “That’s really not true.”

Ember started counting down on her fingers. “Let’s see, that one chick accidentally turned into a dragon and wanted to eat you, Red was actively trying to kill you while you two were dating,”

Danny held up a hand. “Wait! What about Kitty? I don’t think she ever tried to kill me?”

Ember waved it off. “Kitty doesn’t count. She was trying to piss off Johnny. Anyways, there’s me, and Sam did kill you.”

Danny folded his arms and huffed. “You know she hates it when you put it like that.”

“She convinced you twice to get zapped and go ghost. It definitely counts. She half-killed you twice, so she’s the only one to actually have been successful.”

Danny groaned and shoved his head in his hands.

“That doesn’t sound like an argument,” Ember sang-song.

Lance held up a finger. “Ummm… excuse me? Half killed?”

Ember reached down and threaded her fingers through Danny’s hair. He looked up at Lancer. “Well, it’s another reason why I wanted to go on your show and how Ember convinced me to join her…” he shrugged. “I’m not just a ghost. I’m human as well.”

Lance blinked. “I don’t quite follow. Can you show us?”

Danny shook his head. “Sorry, not comfortable doing that on live TV.” Danny pointed at the cameras. “Like I said, there’s an entire section of the government looking to kill me. I’ll happily out them, but myself? Nah.” 

Ember reached over and squeezed his hand. “Baby Pop… you know you have to give them something…” Danny paused and slowly nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” he chewed on his lip. “Alright, last time I tried this, it went pretty horrible, but…” Ember groaned. “Oh, God… please tell me you’re not-”

Lance jumped as a bright light appeared, a glowing circle about as large as Danny emanated from his left shoulder, off-center from his body. 

The slap of Ember’s hand hitting her own forehead almost covered up the scream from Lance. “You are… Dipstick, I swear if you get stuck again…”

Danny held up his hands. The glowing circle went down one arm, leaving behind a very human-looking limb. One hand was gloved and in a jumpsuit, the other arm was completely bare, save a white t-shirt sleeve hanging out of the hazmat suit. “It’s okay, I’ve practiced more since then!”

“You practiced?”

Danny ignored Ember’s screech ( that was definitely not born of worry if asked her) and walked over to Lance. Danny held out his human limb. “Here, check my pulse. All ectologists agree ghosts can’t replicate a heartbeat.”

“We don’t have that kind of control,” Ember grumbled. “The heart isn’t just an organ, at least when it comes to your soul and body.”

Lance took Danny’s hand in his own. “Wow… you’re really warm.” 

Danny shrugged, knowing that he wasn’t. Lance was just expecting something ice-cold like every other ghost. Ember, however, perked up. “Right? He’s even warmer when he gets his hands around my waist and-”

“Ember!” Danny shouted, proving to the world that while ghosts couldn’t have heartbeats, they could definitely blush. “The world doesn’t need to know about that!”

Ember smirked and languidly stretched out across her chair. “I completely disagree.”

“You have a heartbeat…” Lance interrupted, shocked. The two ghosts looked back at Lance, but he didn’t look up from Danny’s wrist. “That’s… I can feel that…” 

The ring appeared again, and went back down Danny’s arm, putting back the jumpsuit. Lance pulled his hand away when he could no longer feel the heartbeat. “How?”

Danny shrugged. “Sorry, like I said, I’m not quite comfortable telling the world how I came to be-”

Ember cut across him loudly, “When two humans love each other very much-”  

“NOT what I was getting at, and you know it.” Danny interrupted the interrupter. Ember stuck out her tongue at him. “Don’t make me gag you, rockstar.”

“I thought you didn’t want people knowing what we get up to in private.”

Danny groaned through his fingers as he held his face in exasperation.

“On behalf of our broadcast standards I’m going to have to ask you to stop as well,” Lance said almost absently, his eyes still fixed on Danny’s hand.

Danny lifted his head in confusion. “We can talk about government secrets, plans to violently murder me, and swear like sailors, but talking about, ah… bedroom matters is a step too far?”

“Welcome to American TV, baby pop,” Ember deadpanned, leaning back in her chair. “This is why I prefer the European circuit, they’re a lot more free about this kind of stuff.”

“You’ve never been on European TV!”

“Some day I might be.”

“If we could get back to the half alive thing?” Lance asked, his expression of bafflement never quite fading even as he attempted to return to his host persona.

“Sorry, but that’s all I’m willing to give. I don’t want the Guys in White having any info about how to kill me that they don’t need.” He gave an apologetic shrug, “As for the actual science behind it, well… that’d be a LONG conversation that we probably don’t have time for.”

Lance looked up at the clock again and groaned. “Ugh, speaking of, that’s all we got time for tonight! I hope to get you guys on again sometime!”

“Oh, we’d love to. Assuming we’re not strapped to a dissection table in one of your government’s labs.” Ember smirked, though this time it was a little less cocky and a little more pained. 

“In my case, it’d be a vivisection table.” 

“But seriously, we better start running.” Ember brushed her hair back and revealed a headset. “Sounds like the Guys in White are closing in, so we gotta jet.” Ember jumped up and intertwined her hand with Danny’s. “Later, Lance.”

“Later!” He said, as the two of them turned invisible. He turned toward the camera. “Well, then, as fun as it was, and wow were those a couple of bombshells they dropped on us. That’s it for tonight, this Lance Thunder signing-” 

The rest was cut off as the walls behind him exploded; he ducked his head and brought the riot shield around. “Holy-” was all he got out as armed men tackled him to the ground. “No! Not the hair!”

Outside, Ember chuckled as she watched the Guys in White pour into the building, not realizing the two of them were long gone and about to be even further gone. She looked at her boyfriend, who was chewing on his lip. She sighed and hugged him from behind, putting her forehead into the middle of his back. 

Flames overtook them, and in a moment they were long gone from anywhere the Guys in White would find them, Danny feeling the ectoplasm of Ember’s lair washing over him, warm and familiar as they settled in. “I still feel bad…” Danny muttered. 

“Lance knew what he was signing up for. Or his producers did, anyway. Your parents made sure of that.”

“I know, I know… but…” he sighed and rubbed his face. “How on earth did I let you talk me into this, Em?”

Ember shrugged. “Honestly? Cause I’m pretty, but you know I’m right.” She floated up and kissed him on the cheek. 

“I just dropped that I was a human on live TV.”

“Yup!” Danny was beginning to find the whole popping thing at once endearing and infuriating, especially in his current state. “Look, you already told your parents, so the hard parts are over, right? And now you’ve dropped that particular bombshell,  the lawsuit Sam’s set of lawyers are filing over human rights violations for you just got a lot more weight, Tucker is spreading the news all over the internet about the time the GIW tried to bomb the afterlife and their other greatest hits, and that’s on top of your parents suing the the same idiots for patent violations.”

She floated around and took both his hands in hers. “If we wanna stop them from pushing all those anti-ghost laws through, we needed to do this. You were never gonna get a perfect moment to just tell people. It’s not like some stupid asteroid is gonna come crashing down, and you have to reveal yourself. You have to make the right moment, and this is step one of doing that -  getting the idea out there. And besides, until we can get all that done, fame makes one hell of a shield.”

Danny sighed and pressed the back of her hands into his forehead. “I know, I know.”

“It’s okay. I’m here with you. I’m going to be every step of the way. And hey, we’re halfway there already.” 

Danny smirked and kissed the back of her hands. “Yeah, I know. Thank God, just don’t corrupt Dani too much.”

Ember smirked. “Oh, I make zero promises. Dipsqueak has a lot of potential...”

“I just feel like I’ve been forgetting something…” Danny frowned and looked down. Ember rolled her eyes and resolved to comfort him a little bit longer when his phone went off. The two of them froze, afraid it was one of their friends informing them that something had gone wrong. Danny grabbed his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

“YOU WERE PHANTOM THE WHOLE TIME?”

Mr. Trent shakes his head at his most frustrating student, really the most frustrating student to every teacher. Watching as the boy’s off reading some strange book he's sure isn’t from the library or related to science. The kid’s smart, he could probably ace every class, if he cared.

But today that kid would participate, even a little, as the Fenton parents finally finished the little project he commissioned from them. Sure, it was pretty well known the Fenton boy didn’t care for ghost stuff and didn’t agree with his parents on a lot of things. But Mr. Trent’s sure everyone will at least get some interest out of this and with how the Fenton home is, Fenton will have the best reaction.

Mr. Trent pats on the top of the box for, what he’s decided to call, the ectoplasma ball. He doesn’t even really want to know what horrid name the Fenton’s had come up with for it. “Now students, since this is Amity, everyone and their mother have ectoplasmic contamination. Of course, we now know this isn’t really something to fret about in smaller quantities”, he continues speaking as he unboxes the sphere, “now, I’d assume you all are well aware of novelty plasma balls. Well, it turns out hyper-concentrated pure ectoplasm contained inside glass filled with a selection of gases has a similar effect”.

Mr. Trent won’t claim to be surprised that most of the class is paying acute attention now, nearly everyone always did when anything had to do with ghosts. Turning on the device, Mr. Trent traces his fingers over it; causing the neon green sphere inside a glass one to shoot out green ectoplasm like webbing, to where his fingers are touching it. Half the class looks downright giddy, while the other half tries to seem unimpressed; and then there’s Fenton, who doesn’t even look like he’s noticed.

Pulling his fingers away and showing how they’re glowing faintly green now, as he speaks, “unlike the electricity in regular plasma balls, this ectoplasm concentrate is only attracted to ectoplasm, no matter how small. So it pulls all the little flakes of generalised free-floating ectoplasm in a person to whatever part of that person contacts the sphere. Making that persons little bit of ectoplasm visible and glowing for a few hours”. Tapping on his fingertips, “the more you have the brighter it will glow, if you have enough the ectoplasm might just pile up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some people’s entire hands can light up”. And that reaction is exactly what he expects from Fenton. The kid lives surrounded by ecto everything, after all, no way he doesn’t have the highest ectoplasmic contamination in school.

Pointing at Star as she raises her hand, “what if a ghost touched it? Would they just light up all over?”. Mr. Trent wiggles his hand back and forth in the air, “the ectoplasm in ghosts isn’t generalised or free-floating. Meaning it wouldn’t get pulled or collected at all. Instead, this would just make the ectoplasm inside them glow extremely brightly wherever it is. Many ghosts have ectoplasm covering every bit of their body so they would indeed just glow green all over, but some only have their ectoplasm in specific areas. Meaning only those areas would light up or would light up more than the rest of them. Ghosts can also have ectoplasm of different colours, so they might not even glow entirely green, but also purple or blue or red in spots”. Now of course Mr. Trent wasn’t crazy enough to flat-out drag in a ghost to prove this.

Mr. Tent smiles at the eager faces and decides to hand it around to a few people, slightly curious to see if Fenton even noticed the change in classroom norm. After about six people have rubbed their fingers or hands all over it, some having enough to actually leave green light tracers in the air with their fingertips. Quite a few of the students start pointing at Fenton and mouthing, “do him, do him”. Mr. Tent won’t claim to be surprised everyone’s officially curious what his reaction will be, there’s not a soul in Amity that would even doubt he had the strongest case of ectocontamination. Especially with all weird things he does and that happen to him. He’s heard more than a few rumours of the boy disappearing or appearing randomly, unusual shows of strength, and getting to impossible places. Heck, no one even knows how he gets to school anymore, no way he was walking halfway across town every day.

Fenton puts down his book as Mr. Trent steps in front of him, plopping the ectoplasma ball right into his hands as soon as they’re free. Mr. Trent would feel bad about startling the jumpy paranoid boy but he wouldn’t be startled if he’d been paying even a slight amount of attention. Mr. Trent would also almost be impressed at this level of tuning out your surroundings if he didn’t just notice the earbuds sneakily wrapped behind his ears, with the cord clearly running down the back of his shirt.

But he doesn’t exactly get to dwell on that, as all of Fenton’s skin glows green faintly, while his veins glow green almost painfully bright; and his chest looks like someone just shoved a blue sun in there.

—Return to Danny present—

“Well, this is awkward”.

Danny can easily see the borderline absurd level of glowing from all his arms veining out of the corner of his eyes, flicking his eyes over to the board to read about this “ectoplasma ball” and mentally facepalming. At least it won’t hurt him but this is bad, “uh” is all Danny can think to say.

Flicking his eyes back down to the sphere in his palms, the ectoplasm in it is practically all splashed up against where he’s touching it, and he can feel the raw energy in it. This stuff is pure, very pure and very concentrated indeed; which really makes him want to consume it. Pure highly concentrate raw ectoplasm was horrendously delicious and a major power boost. His core would lap it up hungrily. Just touching it like this, even with the barrier, he could feel the prickling power and it leeching into him.

Pretty well shoving it back to the teacher before he does something really stupid and after hearing what sounds like lightning crackling in his hair.

The entire class gets pulled out of their shocked stupor at the sight of his hair frizzing out and little extremely bright green electrical arches zapping between the strands of his hair. Mr. Trent has got no clue what to say, he was expecting a big reaction but nothing like this. It was like this kid was literally flowing pure ectoplasm through all his veins, to the degree where it seeped into all of his skin. Flicking his eyes from Fenton’s toxic glowing green ones to his chest, the colour properly clicking into Mr. Trent’s head. Blue ectoplasm wasn’t even possible in ectocontamination and his hair was a weird reaction too, like he’d actually absorbed in energy and was now overflowing with it.

One of the students slowly gets up and clicks off the lights, and everyone pretty well gasps as the glow from Fenton easily lights up the whole room. The room’s silent enough for everyone to hear him mutter, “um... So I guess I’m probably going to need to give an explanation for this?”.

Danny runs his hand through his hair, which results in lots of rather loud zapping sounds, as his teacher nods slack-jawed. Pointing his finger at the teacher and at a couple, more loose-lipped, classmates, “keep this in school, I’d rather not deal with my parents wanting to see and poke at me for hours on end”. Danny’s a little surprised they all nod readily, well till Kwan speaks up, “Fenton dude, no one really wants them to go off about ghosts to anyone. No one wants anyone to seem more ghostly or whatever to them, especially not the guy who has to live with ‘em”.

Danny moves his hand back down to his desk, noticing the massive light tracers he’s leaving. Waving his hand around a bit, “okay, that’s cool”. Shaking his head before turning his attention back to the class, “to say I am, contaminated, might be a bit of an understatement”. Everyone nods at him, but Mr. Trent points at his chest. Looking down at himself, Danny realises his core is basically on full display as his teacher talks, “ectocontamination, it’s only green. So clearly, that’s more than just an understatement”.

Danny can’t help but pat a bit affectionately at his chest, he’s pretty well screwed here but maybe he could weasel his way out of a full reveal. Chuckling awkwardly, “uh, yeah. You don’t say. It’s a bit weird, my core being visible like this”. Mr. Trent squints at him, “humans don’t, exactly, have those”. Danny’s glad this teacher is one that doesn’t utterly hate him, not to mention he’s open to some plain weird ideas. Patting at his chest again, “you try getting fried by the entire ghost zone and not wind up with one”. Rubbing his neck and looking around as a bunch of people gasp and whisper amongst each other, “I, uh, a portal, ghost portal, opened up on me”.

Shrugging a bit as multiple people cringe, Star commenting, “that sounds insanely painful Danny. How’d that not kill you?”.

“Dumb luck, with a side of luck. My core forming, sort of, protected me. But, uh, it being there, rather means, my ectocontamination can’t actually, like, dissipate”, Mr. Trent can’t help but find that horrendously worrying. Sure, he’s glad this saved his student, but everyone was constantly ectocontaminated in Amity because of the ever-present ectoplasm from ghosts and ecto everything replenishing the ectoplasm that dissipated out of people. So everyone’s levels fluctuated based on how much ghost related stuff or ghosts they came into contact with. Or how much time they spent where there was high levels of or recent ghost activity. If Fenton couldn’t dissipate any of this then, “so, you, you just keep getting worse? Absorbing more and more? How could that possibly not be harmful?”. Waving his hand over Fenton’s brightly glowing from, if he focused he could swear he could actually see the ectoplasm flowing or pulsing in his veins, “this, this is already beyond what’s safe. Drastically so”.

Obviously, Fenton’s aware of that as he rubs his neck, “yeah, sort of. This is kind of why my family can’t know. They’ll try to decontaminate me. See, having it, at any level, isn’t what’s bad for me. It’s not having it that would be, well, bad. My core, it feeds off of, consumes, all the free-floating ectoplasm around”. Mr. Trent finds that does make sense, a core needs to be supported, that’s half the reason ghosts stayed in the ghost zone. So their cores and ectoplasm could feed off of and be supported by the free-floating ectoplasm there. But if Fenton just had a core to feed then maybe Amity’s freakishly high levels of free-floating ectoplasm was enough for him. But that gets Mr. Trent to notice something else strange, Fenton’s ectoplasm should have pooled. The entirety of his arms, and probably chest, should just be lit up solidly green. Instead, all his ectoplasm stayed in place, well, ok, that wasn’t quite true. Fenton’s hands and forearms were pretty well solidly green but his veins still stood out vibrantly. Which could only mean, “your ectoplasm, most of it isn’t generalised. It’s raw, sentient. Like a ghosts unique kind”.

A couple of his classmates' nod and Danny was really hoping he didn’t get called out on that. But if he doesn’t give an explanation they’re going to make assumptions and possibly connections, “um, yeah. My core creates it. It um, flows alongside my blood. Hence the veins”. Danny’s almost worried by how curious his teacher looks now, and pretty well the entire class has just straight up moved their desks around him. He’s pretty used to being the town freak but this was like being a literal freak show. Which he kind of was but even if he did have pride in that now, he can’t say he likes being gawked at by his entire class.

His teacher mutters, “how is that even sustainable?”, as he walks up to the board and starts drawing. Danny’s thankful for the eyes being taken off him even if he’s still clearly the focus of everyone’s attention. As the teacher draws a little cartoon ghost and squiggles coming out of it, tapping on the board, “ghosts having raw and sentient ectoplasm is what causes them to ectocontaminate things, leeching out ectoenergy that becomes free-floating ectoplasm. Like how humans shed skin, do you, do you do this too? Because, with what you’re saying, you should”.

Danny winces a bit, knowing full well that well over half the free-floating ectoplasm was from him. Though for him it was more accurate to call the free-floating ectoplasm, that came from him anyway, latent ectoplasm. Since he could tap into it and use it to create things or heal faster. Nodding awkwardly at his teacher, “yeah, I’m sort of a walking contaminant. But, um, not nearly as bad as a ghost. I’ve got bones, organs, skin, the works; to contain it. That's why it’s sustainable”.

“So what? You self-contaminate and feed off of that and the free-floating ectoplasm?”, Danny nods at Star, it’s damn weird and is kind of like auto-cannibalism, but it’s not that different from someone chewing on and eating their own skin. Which a large portion of people did, but just didn’t really think about how kind of weird it was. “People consume bits of their own skin or fingernails or even hair, consuming my own expunged ectoenergy is just a bit more, Amity”, a couple look grossed out but pretty well everyone seems to agree with his logic.

Mr. Trent taps his chin, it does make sense. Weird but reasonable. Though that means Fenton is still contaminating things and probably people actually, “well, since you’re actually a constant in Amity your ectoenergies free-floating ectoplasm should be all over the place. Heck, most townsfolk have to be carrying some from you. Not only that but a ghost having their ectoenergies free-floating ectoplasm coating everything is what establishes a lair. So?”. Mr. Trent’s too curious to feel bad about prying, even if Fenton winces a bit. Besides, Fenton’s just a really weird human, a really ghostly one but still. Better to have him lay claim to the, really ghostly, town than some ghost. Sure, there was Phantom but he wasn’t always here, though how he’d show up here so quickly and then vanish was a complete mystery. Most just assumed he had a sense for when danger happened here.

Fenton rubs his neck, “I prefer not to think about it that way, kind of creepy. But yeah, I’m sort of in everyone and thing”, pretty well everyone could see him cringing as he talked. Fenton straightens out some, “and Amity’s my home. That’s all a lair is, just add in ectoplasm markings and stuff”. Mr. Trent tilts his head a bit, that’s oversimplifying it a lot. But he did still get his answer, technically. Amity was indeed a lair by ghost standards, it just had to be extra weird, like always, and have a human for a keeper. Even more odd that he was just a kid and yet odder that Fenton didn’t try to protect his lair. Well, not being a ghost likely means he doesn’t have ghost nature, which is what makes them all so protective of their places. Maybe that’s why Phantom was around, protecting the lair of someone who couldn’t, or just didn’t, protect it themselves? It would be something the heroic ghost would do.

Jesse Reinbache, one of the geeks, apparently agrees with Mr. Trent’s line of thought, “shouldn’t you, like, protect your lair or whatever then? It’s not like you’re not capable of it”.

Danny is not liking where this is going but the kid’s fully right, Danny already is protecting the place. He’s just trying to avoid them knowing that, “I’m sixteen, give me a break. Besides, if my parents even suspected I was fighting or doing anything with or related to ghosts, I would never hear the end of it”. Sighing a bit as they all look rather unimpressed even if most nod and he can hear a few mutter about how “he’s got a point there”. Getting a bit startled as his teacher speaks up again, “well what about Phantom? It’s he basically picking up your slack?”. Ok, now Danny just feels slightly insulted. And the class is judging him, highly unimpressed, again. Everyone loves Phantom, which he does like, but now they’re all thinking he’s making a hassle for Phantom. Sighing a bit defeatedly, he had to salvage this otherwise this was definitely not staying in school at all, “Phantom doesn’t do what he does alone. Partners you could say. But like seriously, my parents hate him. So hush”.

Danny gives himself a mental pat on the back as everyone just seems to accept that. Mr. Trent nods, “that actually explains a lot. Lair keepers can manipulate their lairs so you’re probably the one who covers up Phantom’s ectosignature, probably even making portals for him to get in and out. Not to mention how he gets Fenton tech and always seems to know what it does”. Danny’s not sure whether to roll with this or beg him to shut up. Though he damn well wishes he could make damn portals.

Danny groans as everyone expectedly looks at him for a demonstration, “fine”. Danny covers up his eyes in a show of seeming embarrassed, though he’s really aiming to keep them from noticing his eyes glowing even more; as he swirls his fingers to severely condense his latent ectoplasm in the air into an easily visible spherical ectolight.

Mr. Trent judges by the slight smirk on Fenton’s face, as everyone passes around the ectolight, that he’s actually a bit proud of what he can do. Which he absolutely should be, especially if he’s a little hero or sidekick himself. No wonder Fenton was never around at the exact same time as Phantom, yet always showed up nearby. They couldn’t actually risk being seen together and heck, Fenton could probably teleport himself and/or Phantom anywhere in town by making portals. Mr. Trent goes wide-eyed as something hits him, talking almost quietly at Fenton, “that’s why you run off all the time. To help or get Phantom”. Mr. Trent’s not sure why that makes Fenton glare at the ectoplasma ball before responding, “I can, um, tell if a ghost shows up in town. When, where, who...”. Multiple people mutter, “so that’s why Phantom seems to just always know, he’s got a damn informant”. This makes complete sense to Mr. Trent, of course, he could tell if someone entered his lair, like having a convenient security system.

Danny is straight up glad that his teacher has apparently ran out of questions and, way too close to home, ideas. Watching as everyone goes after the etcoplasma ball again, he’ll admit it is kind of cool but he kind of hates the thing right now.

Blinking down at his brightly glowing veins after the bell rings before walking up to his teacher, “so, um, how long does this last?”. While he appreciates the energy boost, way better than any coffee or crappy energy drink, he’d like to not look like a damn glow bug with glow sticks for veins. Mr. Trent chuckles, “if you’d been paying attention you’d know. Normally I wouldn’t tell you as punishment but that would be pretty unfair and mean here”, smiling warmly, “it should only last three hours at most but that’s tested on regular, core and raw ectoplasm free, people”. Danny shrugs, he’s a bit too used to uncertainties, “well it’s just lunch now so here's hoping”. At least his teacher has the decency to look rather apologetic, though Danny can’t really blame the guy; it’s not like he knew.

Danny plops down with his tray, trying to ignore all the staring while he startles the crap out his friends, “dude! Oh man, you look like someone turned on every single light inside you. How’d you explain this?”. Sam pokes at his veining, “kind of cyber goth though”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “me having a core is public knowledge now, Mr. Trent’s decided Amity’s my lair, and I’m Phantom’s sidekick. But hey! Managed to get everyone to agree to keeping this a Casper high secret. So I’m not utterly fucked, in regards to my parents anyway”. Though he’ll be amazed if his parents don’t hear about this eventually, he just needed some time to prepare for that. Tucker points a fry at him, “it is your lair though, you’re just fucking weird about it”.

“I’m weird about every, Tuck”.

Danny’s a bit surprised no one peppered him with questions too much about, well, everything; as the day goes on. But then again, pretty well everyone had heard the answers he’d given out in class, by the end of lunch. Thee teachers are all just trying to play it off like it’s normal now, which he’s both thankful for and weirded out by. Though, staring down at his veins in eight just makes him plain happy that the shit is finally fully fading away. At this point, all he had left was dimly glowing green veining, and the blue glow from his chest wasn’t viewable through his clothing anymore; well, unless the lights were turned off.

But heading out of class, he knows damn well he’s not going home till it’s completely worn off.

Valerie gives him an excuse though, as she practically jumps on him as soon as he’s alone in the schoolyard. His friends having to go home because of family crap or whatever. “Alright, so I know we’re not the closest but what the hell Danny. I’ve heard so many downright strange rumours today and you damn well bet I saw you being a freaking glow stick. So just what?”, Valerie plops down and stares incredulously at his chest. Which Danny pats in response, “yeah the core one’s true. But if I had it my way no one would know. My life’s weird enough without the school being freaky towards me”, sighing a bit, “and yes I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But like, “I have what’s functionally a ghostly supernova in my chest”, is just not something you tell people”. Valerie nods and sighs, clearly understanding but also glad for the apology, “I’m more concerned by the lair rumour actually, can’t really claim to be surprised that your bodies messed up. Your parents aren’t exactly safe”.

“Point, but, um, that one’s sort of true too. I just don’t, like, think of it that way. Amity’s just my home, even if my ecto crap is all over everything”, which absolutely was useful to Danny and gave him a major advantage over any ghostly foes; it was just still too weird to view his town as his ghostly lair.

“Yeah well, it’s got to be affecting the town. Outside of just contaminating everything. Even if you don’t mean to, you’re probably manipulating or changing things”, Danny damn well knew he was, a little anyway. The colour palette of Amity was off for a reason, especially at night. And he did have a bad habit of changing the colour of things in response to his mood.

“Not my fault, I can’t change this. Also can’t say I really want to, this is my normal”, Danny’s not really impressed but he pats his chest affectionately and makes sure that affections is palpable. Valerie eyes him for a bit before sighing, “I know and I get it, I do. It’s just sort of hard to be ok with. Sure, I’d rather you over some ghost, but I’d rather Amity be less ghostly altogether”. Danny can’t help but snort at that, ghostly was pretty well what defined Amity now, “like that’s ever going to happen. Ghosts are a part of Amity, Amity’s normal. The veins of Amity run with human life and ghost ectoplasm, like me, and separating them really would never end well”. Valerie’s sigh makes it pretty obvious that she knows that, even if she doesn’t like it.

Valerie nods, “wishful thinking I guess, but that’s got to feel weird, for you. Having both, having a core, being a halfa”.

Danny coughs and blinks a bunch before composing himself, while Valerie smirks, “I’m not an idiot, Phantom. Though mad props for the impressive lying skills you got. Now we both know each other’s secret identities”. Blinking at her some more, “yeah, should have seen that coming. Um, still friends though?”.

“Duh, I can’t blame you for lying or hiding. I did the same damn thing. But how did this even happen to you? The portal opening on you rumour is a little bit out there”, Danny can tell she’s not impressed that he’s laughing at that. Running a hand through his hair and smirking a bit, “that’s the truth. You’re very right on my parents not being safe. Built a portal, put the on button on the inside and I accidentally touched it. Then blam! Ghost zone to the face, well whole body really but still”. Valerie gapes at him a bit, “wow, that is actually kind of sad. In the pathetic kind of way. Your parents are hazards”.

Danny nods, before checking under his shirt for glow, “you have no idea. But I’m alright with the end result, like you with huntress stuff. And thank fuck this shits gone now”. She snickers as the two get up, “they’re gonna know about this incident eventually, you know. Whole towns gonna”. Danny nods with a bit of a frown, prompting Valerie to speak up again, “well, they might just listen to a fellow hunter better than you. So consider that an option, it’s not like they know I’m just a teenager”. Danny blinks and smiles slowly, “I think I just might take you up on that. See how things play out, I’ve never been much of a planner”.

“No, you’re just an idiot. An idiot with a fucking mess in your veins”, Danny just gives her a shit-eating grin as they head off.

I think, all the while a collar and leash bind me. Weaken me, so much so that I can do nothing but float and watch. Watching is something I’m good at, especially now, notice things, find things, understand their possibilities. I think something resonated with the girl though, I can see it in her eyes. She feels remorse. So it would seem, she is like the boy from before. I hope she keeps her mouth shut.

It doesn’t take long for mother to get to what she’s always wanted. A chance at dissection. Strapping me down with unnecessary levels of aggression and force. She sets out her instruments while making it a point for me to clearly see each one. She gets to work first removing at the ropes embedded in my flesh, ripping and tearing the flesh wildly as she goes. As they clatter to the floor, I hope none are damaged; something might work. She’s focused so intently on me and on what she wants to do. She doesn’t notice, but I do, the others reactions. They blame me sure, want me to suffer for their suffering, want me dead. But this is too much for all of them. I’m sure it’s not because of weak stomachs, no one has that anymore; how could they? You can only see someone destroyed by those stars, or crushed by a building, or cannibalized by another person; so many times before it doesn’t churn your insides anymore.

It doesn’t take long for my chest to be opened up, flayed out like a butterfly made of ruby reds and emerald greens. I know I hear wrenching and there are things being said but ignoring the pain is where my focus goes. That and I have to find a way out, I have to be the hero.

I can see mother swing her knives in the others general direction, no doubt protecting her game of doctor. This only causes the others to show genuine disgust and disdain towards her, rather than me. That’s the thing with human morals, they’re strong and only something stronger will outweigh their morals. For the sake of science, apparently didn't cut it for the others. As they watch on still trying to argue with her, as she takes away chunk after chunk of her pound of flesh.

I don’t mind so much, it’s horrible and painful but. There’s always a but with me, I can always excuse others actions; it’s never really their fault. In some way, the blame is always mine and I’ll take it gladly; no matter how much I have to suffer. And suffer I do, regardless of what she thinks; ghost feel pain. We all do, and I’ll always do what I can to minimize others pain. That’s why I school my expression now, as she pulls out piece after piece, seeing my hurt would cause pain to them. I refuse to be the cause of their pain. What pieces she takes I can not tell, blurred vision makes observing difficult. Maybe she’ll learn something from me that can be used to save everyone, human and ghost. Though I know she doesn’t care for the ghosts. Maybe this is how I’ll finish my work, be the hero. I only hope that if she does find something that will work that she’ll step up and do it herself. I think she owes me that much.

Through their arguing a man, large and bearded comes in. He is calm and soft but commanding in his presence. At first I think it could be, but no, it’s not dad. Surprisingly he goes to untie me, mother leaps over to stop him. Grabbing his wrists and glaring but not speaking. A heart locket swings around her neck, dangling in front of me. That’s new and I can read that dad’s name is engraved on it. Oh. I see. I guess that’s how it is. Someone else I failed. With that, the pain is too much and I fade to black.

I wake to a wrapped body and I can tell my toes have finally regrown. It’s a welcomed thing, to wiggle them again. However, I’m still bound it would seem. I doubt I have been out long. The group of humans is all around me with my back against a wall, none of them look at me; whether I move or not. And I dare not break the silence. I can feel the itch of all the bandages, they cover everything. How much was cut away? How much is left? Is any of it even usable? Stable? Just keep going. Just keep working. And for today, just do what I must to survive. So I choose to use this as time to observe. Observing the door, walls and the silhouettes of figures arguing quietly. I have a feeling it’s about me.

It was about me. It seems the large man has taken charge of me. He doesn't bother with binds at all. Not that it would matter, I’m far too damaged to do much beyond what I must. And I must keep working, I must fix this, I must keep going. So I do. The first thing I do is put back on the shoulder piece I made, Be the hero, stands out on it still and I made a promise. The man watches me tinker, occasionally mother comes in and scowls but says nothing. This man is clearly in charge and he’s told her no. I don’t know why he cares to watch my tinkering but I imagine it’s because of all the weird tech I got out of the suit. Maybe he just wants to see what and why I work away.

The peace of this doesn’t last long, it never does. Nothing ever lasts long for me. Be it good or bad. It’s not the fault of the man or my mother though. But rather the stars. One crashed into the building, now everything burns. I take what I can re-tie to me and look for people. Chuckling dryly I quickly come to know they left the danger, and me. Left me to be destroyed by the stars. Stars that I once loved so very dearly. I live though, I live through it all. I always do, I always have to, it’s what I do. No one can afford for me not to.

Out a tunnel, I go walking along. I don’t have the energy for flight but I find, as I go, a pile of apples. “Sorry” is written on one. I need no apology, I need you to survive girl. But I take the apples gladly anyways. In my time between apples, I check over the damage. I had been functionally flayed from neck to toe, and who knows what internals are missing; the bandages hurt to try to remove. So I opt to just leave them be. I’ll be able to remove them when my work is done, when everyone is ok. Then I’ll fix my body up, then I’ll see what’s regrown and what hasn’t. Though I do take the time to check that I still have my pulse, I need that to keep my immunity to the purple pollution. If I lose to that I won’t be any help to anyone or thing. I can’t have that.

I had to give up on the hand balls. Just not working out and I can’t waste time. My body is still a mess and I know I look just as horrible as I have in days past. But that doesn’t matter and I don’t care. My body isn’t of importance, it doesn’t matter. My next device is a sharp chest trinket, it taps into a ghosts core. Mines stronger than most, perks of being a halfa. My ice, no matter how weakened I am, stays strong and powerful. Utilizing it’s all that’s left for options. Everything else has been exhausted or just isn’t doable now. I place no blame on anyone though. Hooking into my core like this burns something fierce but I’ll grin and bare it, like always and forever more. So long as it is needed.

Surprisingly, as I’m out to test this latest trinket I spot a human. It’s the same large bearded man from before. Only now he’s down an arm. He’s holding a little girl in his arms. Blood running down his side pooling on the ground. I stand understanding the loss and grief. But also the need to be silent. We’re on the surface after all.

This man is very observant, he notices me quickly and turns. Tears stain his beard and cover his cheeks. All he does is point to my chest, or more so to the trinket there, and then the closest star. We need no words I know what he’s asking. I simply nod, his returning smile screams anger but is filled with nothing but absolute sadness. She must have been his daughter. I understand too well, I lost a little one in my arms who bore the same colours as me long ago. She was too weak to handle any of this, she tried though. If she could have lived off of spite, she would have. I wonder if the bearded man’s little girl was full of fire and spite too.

He watches from afar as I walk up the same way as many, many times before to this star. The biggest I can find, to see what this trinket can do. Things will end. Things will be fixed. They will all be ok.

It doesn’t work.

The man looks at me wearily as I simply collapse onto my hips. I sit slumped for a while. I’m not sure what more I could possibly do. What anyone or thing could possibly do. I promised but it’s not working. I’m the hero but it’s not working. I’m still going but it’s not working. I’m giving everything but it’s, still, not, working. I vomit up what little I have into the grass as the man comes up behind me. He heaves me up and takes me back down, to where it’s safe. Though I don’t know if safe means anything, if my everything is doing nothing.

He pushes me to keep tinkering, tapping on my shoulder piece; he understands it’s purpose, the reminder, I think. He won’t let the others interrupt me either, snapping his fingers at anyone who even so much as looks at me dirty. He gets what I’m trying to do now. So does the apple girl, she keeps bringing me apples. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I tinker, sometimes I think I’m giving up. And I can’t do that. I know I can’t but I’m not sure anymore if “can’t” is even a real word. Maybe this is all just inevitable.

The man won’t let go of the little girl, she’s starting to rot. He cradles her all the time. I get it, I do. But. You have to go on, dammit. Seeing him still holding on, holding her, when there’s no use, no point; just makes something click. None of this is working, I’m not working. I’m not being the hero. I need to do that. I have to. So I get to work, on something new. Though I never took off the chest piece, a reminder of what I must still do. Even if I’ve found I no longer can.

It takes very little time to finish and with that, I walk to the man. The first time I’ve walked or stood since the chest piece failed. And I give him my new trinket, an arm. Shiny and metal but an arm. He stares at it confused, but I simply point to his armless shoulder and to the girl. I understand the silence that must be kept and so does he. He allows me to attach it, I can feel others watching. Once everything’s attached, neuroreceptors in place, I let him move it himself. He does so cautiously but as soon as he sees that it works, he brings it down underneath the little girl and holds her up. He cries. Wet, angry, messy tears. He knows no words are needed and out of everyone I’ve ever done right by, he seems to know I won’t accept a thank you. Hero’s need no thanks after all and sometimes being a hero isn’t about saving the world but helping a man to hug his daughter one last time.

After that, the other humans don’t give me cruel looks but most of the looks they give me are sad. Maybe it’s the way I look, I’m supposed to be the hero, the shining star. Yet I look like a man whose very existence is actively spitting in the face of death. Which for me is actually quite accurate, I should be dead many times over.

The bearded man was able to lay his daughter to rest, he looks filled with determination in every sense of the word now. He seems to be making a point of using the metal arm whenever I’m in the line of sight. It’s nice to see that it works still, and with that, I am able to work again. They all try to help me now, except mother. She just watches from a distance, I can never read her face. The others will point to where they think something should go or how it should be turned. Point out anything I may have missed out, they’ve all come to understand silence. No one talks near me and I never talk. There’s no place for it, work needs to be done. Even if nothing will ever work. Even if it’s all pointless. It’s all I can do. It’s all I know.