*Blanket Disclaimer: Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon own Danny Phantom.
The Fighting Games:
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Sunday
Prologue:
The (Stupid) Lists
It started with two lists, thrown about the halls of Casper High School. Their author: unknown.
.
Casper High School
Weak List — The Weakest of the Weak
5.) Timothy "Timmy" Sheffield
4.) Larry Williams
3.) Nathan Thomas
2.) Micheal "Mikey" Smith
1.) Daniel "Danny" Fenton
.
Casper High School
Strong List — The Toughest of Tough
5.) Andrew "Andy" Williams
4.) Butch Lapaine
3.) Kwan Patel
2.) Valerie Gray
1.) Dashiel "Dash" Baxter
.
"Danny! Danny!"
Danny stopped mid-sentence, turning his attention from Sam to the dark-skinned boy currently propelling himself through the cafeteria doors, waving around two sheets of paper like a madman.
Wait a minute. Paper? Tucker never carried around paper. The techno-geek even made it a point to scan his tests and download them onto his computer's back-up hard-drive whenever teachers returned assignments, not once looking at the actual sheet and only at its pixel replica. Tucker with paper meant bad news.
It didn't take long before Tucker reached their table, gasping for breath, sweat dribbling down his face. He put a hand to the tabletop to regain his wobbly balance. "Man. I need to work out more," he muttered breathlessly.
"You don't say," Sam said sarcastically, stuffing a piece of lettuce into her mouth, smirking at her friend's antics. "Nice entrance, by the way. Everyone's glaring at you for disrupting their mealtime." She waved her plastic spork. "I give it a solid ten in the Annoyance Meter. Good job."
"What's wrong, dude?" Danny asked curiously. "You look like a man who just won the lottery and wants to share it with the world. Except crazier. And not as happy."
Tucker shook his head. "No way, man. It's worse than that." He sat in front of his two friends and showed them the papers in his hand. "Get a load of these." Each of them took a sheet.
"The 'Strong List'?" Danny asked in surprise, his eyebrows lifting up as he continued to read.
"The 'Weak List'? Sounds like a bunch of junk made up by the high school social chain to further discriminate those unable to protect themselves." Sam let the paper flutter from her fingers. "It's just a giant load," she said indigently.
"Yeah. Sam's right." Danny let his own page fall to the tabletop. He grabbed a fry from his lunch tray and swiped it in ketchup. "It's just a stupid list. Who cares?"
Tucker frowned. "Well, you haven't seen the Weak List." He picked up Sam's discarded paper. "You'll never guess who's number one."
Danny nearly choked on his own fry. "No," he gasped, his eyes widening. Couldn't be.
Tucker nodded. "'fraid so, man."
"B—but what about Nathan?"
"He's the third one."
"Mikey?"
"Numero dos*, my brother."
Danny groaned, smashing headfirst onto the table. "Ow," he muttered flatly, almost as an afterthought.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't care what a stupid list said."
"That was before I found out I was actually in it!" he said angrily, sounding muffled by the way his face was currently smooshed against the table.
"You're not just in it. You're practically the reason for the list, being number one and all."
"Thank you, Tucker."
The technology-obsessed teen merely shrugged. "What? It's true." His eyes flickered to Danny's abandoned lunch. "Hey, Danny, since you're all mopy right now, can I have your fries?"
"Wow. Your ability for compassion overwhelms me sometimes, Tuck."
He grinned at the Goth, completely unabashed. "It's a gift," he said, reaching over and plucking Danny's fry basket from the tray. He popped an overly-moist potato slice inside his mouth almost immediately.
Sam rolled her eyes, turning her attention to her currently-mourning friend. She poked him in the arm. She poked him again when he didn't respond the first time—or the second—or the third...
"Would you please stop?" Danny asked after the fifth poke. "I think you're starting to give me a bruise."
She continued to poke him. "I'm not gonna stop until you pick up your head."
Danny sighed, exasperated. "Fine." He picked up head and stared at her. "Happy?"
"Not until you stop overreacting about that stupid list."
He rolled his eyes, though this time, an actual smile lighted his face. "You already got me to lift my head. Why should I do anything else you say?" he mocked.
"Because if you don't, I'll mass-produce that embarrassing picture of you sleeping with a teddy bear."
His smile immediately fell. "You wouldn't."
"You know I would," she threatened, smirking. "So just lighten up. What's the big deal anyway? So you're number one on the—" she made air-quotes "—'Weak List'. You're a superhero, Danny. If that doesn't prove just how backwards these lists are, I don't know what does."
"No." His shoulder's sagged. "I guess you're right, Sam. Thanks." He smiled at her.
She smiled back, and the moment seemed to last longer than it did.
"Earth to love birds! I'm sitting right here!" Tucker smirked as Sam and Danny jumped apart, with faces slightly redder than before. He chuckled. "If you're going to get lost in each other's eyes like that, just tell me." He flicked a finger behind him, popping another fry in his mouth with his other hand. "I'm as good as gone."
"Ew, Tucker. Swallow before opening your mouth. There's no need for me to see half-digested potato."
Tucker made a great show of gulping down his fry, with sound effects and everything. He opened his mouth wide. "Does it pass inspection, Sam?" he garbled, barely understandable.
"Gross, man," Danny laughed. He bumped fists with Tucker. "Grotesque genius!"
"I try, I try."
"Boys," Sam muttered, scrunching up her nose in disgust. Even so, she smiled fondly and let her expression soften. "But you're my boys, so I guess I have no choice but to put up with you."
Tucker grinned. "You know you love us."
"I'm seriously reconsidering it." She turned to Danny, who had a mischievous glint in his eye that could rival Tucker's. "Feeling better, Danny?"
He nodded. "Lots." He grabbed the discarded papers on the table, and, after a moment's inspection, gingerly ripped them in halves until nothing remained but small pieces of white confetti.
Sam smiled at him. "Now normally," she said, dusting the flecks of paper away from her, "I would scold you for being so inhumane to poor pieces of tree and not recycling, but this time, I'm willing to make an exception."
"Your mercy has no bounds." Danny laughed, and picked up a lone confetti. "Besides," he said, inspecting the piece between his fingers, "who's gonna pay attention to a stupid list posted on the school bulletin board?"
Apparently, a lot of people.
Danny grimaced and crossed his arms. "Can't you be a little more mature, Dash?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He was surrounded by the other members of the Weak List, who were currently cowering under the full-threat force of the football team. It wasn't all that surprising, considering three of their members had made the Strong List—and above all, had a ferocious knack for picking on those weaker than them.
"Oh, look, guys," Dash sneered, laughing. "The other Number One is trying to brave!" The jocks surrounding the quarterback chortled loudly, making fools of themselves as they purposefully bended over in too-enthusiastic laughter.
Danny sighed. Why, oh why, did he have to have last-period gym, the only class that, during school hours, actually contained the entirety of all of Casper's athletic teams? Fate must have hated him, too, because also in the class were the other four members of the Weak List, who were about as useless in confrontation as Tucker was weak against a sale at the electronics store.
His nerves had already been fizzled out to the point of non-function. He'd had to deal with snide remarks—to his face or otherwise—ever since lunch had let out. Insults from those high up in the popularity ladder he was used to. He could deal with those. But from band nerds? Book worms? Chess geeks?
Danny'd had just about enough. It was beyond humiliating to be ridiculed by nerds with too-high pants and so much metal in their mouths, actual drool was dribbling down their chins. It was too much.
He was about ready to completely be done with the day—just waiting for his ghost sense to go off so he could punch out his frustration—when the bell for his last class rang.
And now, he was huddled up against the lockers, his fellow weaklings whimpering beside him, with Dash and his cronies laughing down at their expense. Stupid list, indeed.
"Hey!" came a voice from outside the door. All the boys jumped, surprised, and, for the first time, Danny looked around and realized they were the only ones left in the locker room. Tetslaff banged on the door again. "Get your butts out here!" she barked roughly. "Don't make me come in there."
That's was all it took, and two minutes later, all the boys stood, fully changed into their gym uniforms, in front of their female coach.
Tetslaff frowned deeply. "I'll have you know I don't stand for tardiness in my class," she growled, glaring at her students. "As punishment, you're all going to run five laps around the gym." Even the football players groaned. Tetslaff blew her whistle sharply, cutting off any protests that might have been made. "Did I bat an eye? Move it, maggots! Move!"
Danny was just about to take off running, silently reminding himself to slow down so as not to draw attention, when his ghost sense went off. He could have jumped for joy right there and then. Instead, he smothered his happiness and approached Tetslaff.
"What?" she snarled, looking away from her running students to the boy beside her.
Danny grabbed his stomach theatrically and dealt her with his best "sick" expression, blinking up at her weakly. "I don't feel so good," he moaned. "May I go to the bathroom?"
"By gym socks, Mr. Fenton," Tetslaff grunted, shaking her head, "it's always something with you, isn't it? You gotta stop eating the stuff they serve on Mystery-Meat Monday." She flicked her thumb behind her. "Go on, then."
He went, suppressing a grin as he passed her.
"And..."
He started, turning back to look at her curiously.
"...get your parents to check out your...erm...problem." She waved her hand in the air, emphasizing her discomfort with the subject.
Danny nodded, smiling at her. "Will do, coach." He spun on his heel, practically dashing the rest of the way to the bathrooms. Immediately, he looked around, and once he was satisfied there were no prying eyes, he let himself become Phantom, phasing out of the gym and into the school's main hallway. He inspected the area around him.
A red glow shinned underneath the teacher's rec room.
Danny's grin was absolutely feral. "Hello, misplaced aggression..."
"What's this?" Pulverizer asked, twisting the sheets of paper in his hand oddly. They looked like lists of some sort.
His assistant—Blaine (master of all Inter-Dimensional Fighting Entertainment planning!)—smiled. "It's a copy of the lists I made for that high school."
"High school?"
Blaine's sighed in defeat, his smile falling. "Don't you remember? The high school we were planning to make our comeback in? The one in the human world?"
Pulverizer tapped his chin. "Now that you mention it... Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."
"It was the reason I was gone for over a month, to study the school's weakest and strongest students."
Pulverizer blinked. "You were gone?"
Blaine smacked himself. He knew how forgetful the master was, he should have known better. "Okay, I know," Blaine said suddenly. He flew out in front of Pulverizer. "Remember fifty years ago?"
"When I lost my first bet in an orchestrated fight?" Pulverizer growled, but then, just as suddenly, deflated. "How could I forget? It was the fight that made me stop wanting to fight."
Good. We're on the right track here. "Then do you remember three months ago?"
"When we ran out of peanut butter?"
"No—after that."
"When I said I wanted to start the fights again?"
"Yes! And do you remember how you said the only sure-fire way to make sure a ghost won in the final rounds was to have him fight against a human?"
"Yeah. I actually do." Pulverizer looked down at the sheets of paper in his hands, now studying them with interest. "Hmm," he hummed. "And I sent you to find the nearest long-lasting portal to the human world—"
"—to find a self-feeding environment where weakness and strength defined it—"
"—and all you could come up with was a high school?"
Blaine came up short. How was he supposed to explain that Pulverizer had been the one to suggest such a thing in the first place? He looked away. "Uh, yeah."
Pulverizer huffed. "Not my first choice, but it'll have to do." He looked back down at the lists. "And these are the strongest and weakest?"
"Uh-huh."
"Are you sure?"
"I based my studies on who got beat up on a regular basis, how good they were at defending themselves, and athletic skill." Blaine nodded. "I'm positive."
Pulverizer grinned, and the papers went up in flames, only to be replaced by an old-fashioned microphone. He rose from the shadows in his lair, now standing above the pudgy form of Blaine. "Then we have some calls to make," he rumbled evilly, his sunglasses falling to reveal red, unforgiving eyes. "Favors to ask." He laughed maniacally. "The G.F.E. is back in business, baby!"
Blaine coughed.
Pulverizer looked down at the smaller ghost, raising an eyebrow, questioning the interruption of his celebratory speech.
"Actually, it's the I.D.F.E. now, sir."
"What? Why?"
"It stands for 'Inter-Dimensional'."
"Oh..." Pulverizer thought about it, before shrugging. "I guess that makes sense."
"You can carry on your evil cackling, sir."
"Thank you." And he—quite literally—cackled into the air, swinging his microphone around madly. "Look out, Casper High School. I'm coming to get ya!"
*Spanish Translation:
numero dos — number two
A/N: Alrighty then! Prologue's up! The actual idea for the story came to me a while ago, but it wasn't into recently that I actually sat down and wrote anything. Hopefully, it hasn't been done before, and if it has—tough snowballs! I actually like it, and it's staying up until someone pries it from my zombie brain-hungering body.
Now that the first chapter's up, it hopefully won't take long for the rest of it to come. I'm intending this to be a short story—five chapters, maybe seven—but nothing more.
And, I know I shouldn't be publishing a new story, especially when I haven't updated Sundae Cinemas in over a month. Blame this and the dozen unfinished drabbles on my desktop for the lack of updates. But all Requests are in the making and are close to finished. It's that stupid raffle I'm doing that's giving me problems. I should really start thinking these things through...
But tell me what you think by clicking that little review button at the bottom of the page! It'll make me happy and get the rest of this story up faster. If you want to flame, go ahead. Tell me I suck. Curse me out. I prefer flames over nothing any day. :D
