The Obligatory Author's Note:
You probably (don't) remember this story from my old account, MoonlightUmbreon. In any case, it is being rewritten here and I do have the necessary plans to completely finish it. Not all of the text has changed, but most has been altered in some way (why did I used to use so many words? o_o;;) Some chapters have already been written in advance, so regular updating should ensue. :) Another important note: this is the prologue, which means it's going to be tiny in comparison to the proper chapters.

This story is very obviously crack, if the description didn't give it away. Reviews would be nice, but you already know that. :P Constructive criticism is, as always, welcomed.

The Obligatory Blanket Disclaimer:
I don't own Danny Phantom, Butch Hartman does, blah blah blah, OH GOD GET OFF MY BACK, LAWYER!

The Story that Reared Up and Attacked
A fanfic by Pseudinymous

~ The Prologue ~

'Twas the night after Christmas in Lancer's small house, and nothing was stirring – well, except for a mouse.

William Lancer was done with Boxing Day. All those so-called bargains, pah! And to think people actually thought they were getting something cheap! Was he the only person in existence to notice that the stores were saying everything was on sale while actually raising the original price?

Juggling a small parade of plastic shopping bags, Lancer dug furiously in his pockets for the keys to his house. He was so aggravated and absorbed into mentally demoralising Boxing Day sales that when he walked through the door and put his groceries away in the kitchen, he went straight past the glaringly obvious new oddity occupying the space in front of his lounge room's television set.

There was nothing more important to him right now than warning everyone to be careful about what they buy. He'd tell the few people he knew well tomorrow so they wouldn't get sucked in. Though, of course, he did doubt they'd be sucked in at all – they all had good heads on their shoulders and could spot it from a mile away. Still, he reasoned, there's nothing like a good warning when you need-

"Dear Othello! What on earth...?"

Lancer had been absent-mindedly walking into his lounge-room to watch his book review program when he finally noticed this new addition to the standard furniture; a gigantic circular keyboard which had room for a user in the middle. It's sudden appearance was perhaps not the most shocking thing about it, however – it floated, and was glowing to boot. Everything about it just screamed 'ghost artefact!'.

Lancer stood there looking at the... the thing, not quite able to give it a proper name, yet. It was made with a clear, slightly opaque glass surface, and above the many glass keys on the circular board were two life-size computer screens.

He took a moment to calm down, breathe, then he looked at it again. ...Well, despite being a ghost artefact, it did look relatively harmless – all it seemed to be was a really big computer. A big computer with a gigantic circular keyboard that was made of... glass.

The schoolteacher was intrigued. Not by what it did, but why it had suddenly appeared in the middle of his living room. Had a ghost put it there as some kind of trap? He should probably call-

An image of the last disaster the Fentons had caused popped into mind. No, maybe he shouldn't call them.

Now he was conflicted. He knew very well what 'curiosity killed the cat', meant, but the other part of him was arguing about satisfaction bringing it back. Aside from probably being dangerous ghost technology, it was an intriguing piece of equipment. Nothing exciting ever really happened in Lancer's life – aside from the odd ghost attack. Would he ever get this sort of chance again?

He'd have to be careful, though. He wasn't sure exactly why it was in his house, but it must've belonged to a ghost; that meant that if he broke it whilst under his possession, he'd probably end up paying a very dear price.

Nevertheless, he'd at least have to move it out of the lounge-room. If he didn't soon, he wouldn't be able to watch his book reviews.

"Out of my sight!"

A thin and frail ghost, wrapped in his trademark trench coat and scarf, was forcibly thrown out of Walker's prison. He scrambled to reorient himself, pushed the hair out of his eyes, then scrambled further to get as far away from the place as possible. He might have been dripping in orange juice and his reading glasses may have been smashed beyond normal repair, but he was out. That was all he cared about.

All that, and he'd only spent the night. How did the other prisoners stand it? He'd gotten away so easily, and if he'd had to stay there longer he wasn't sure what he'd have wound up doing with himself. Thank heavens Walker was walking around in a Christmasy sort of mood; the Ghostwriter hadn't before been sure the warden even knew what the term 'leniency' meant.

Amidst his mental grumbling, he realised he was getting closer to home and relished in the idea of washing all of the orange juice off and out of his clothes. Why was he still scared of oranges? Apart from their inability to rhyme with anything, it wasn't like he could still be allergic to them...

The Ghostwriter eventually arrived at his beloved library home. But home was not home – where were the shattered remains of his beautiful quantum keyboard? Gone? Impossible! No other ghost had any interest in it, especially not when it was in shards! Not even Technus... they had an agreement, damnit!

... No, there was a strange feeling here, an imprint of the physical world, maybe? That meant...

He stood and sighed, crestfallen. If it had disappeared into the human dimension, it could take days to locate. What if someone had taken it and decided to repair it? It wouldn't be hard, ghost artefacts essentially worked on magic, anyway, so all it'd take was a bit of willpower. Worse, what if they'd started to use it? It'd be disastrous if someone who didn't know what they were dealing with tried it out!

A little excursion was in order.

Lancer, meanwhile, had decided that maybe he could skip this evening's book club presentation. It couldn't hurt, could it? Just to start it up and see what it did?