That meddling geezer...
The ghost growled angrily - one indication, besides his facial expression and the impossible speed of which he was flying, of his frustration toward the time entity in question. He had been freed mere seconds before, and found himself being forced into yet another task the Master of Time had placed onto his shoulders. Indeed, this was the very definition of frustrating - however, the ghost knew that this was the price for freedom.
If you can even call this freedom. Crimson eyes glowed malevolently, burning with rage. I'm like the guy's lap dog!
Cape billowing rapidly, the ghost picked up speed, knowing the repercussions of taking too much time. Time... He mused, an look of disdain coloring his otherwise angry facade.
Before he could dwell on the events that led to his current predicament, the ghost lowered his eyes (having reached his destination), and gazed upon the desolate, broken world of his childhood home. Metal pieces were scattered across the cracked ground, and what appeared to be massive, broken wind-up toys which had been torn in half littered every street corner.
The ghost's eyes narrowed. He flew on, albeit at a slower pace and closer to ground-level, making sure to follow the path of dismembered machines. Upon reaching his destination, the ghost stopped in midair, his cape falling softly around his muscled build and framing his costumed body, particularly the 'DP' initials on his chest. The ghost let out an amused chuckle.
"Home sweet home."
The four heroes turned at the abrupt chuckle from behind them. When its owner spoke, it was in a deep, haunting voice, one which sent chills down their spines and struck fear into their hearts.
Unbeknownst to three of said heroes, however, was that the fourth knew of the being's presence before the man had uttered a word in the terror-inducing tone. A wisp of cold air had left the boy's mouth, and then when he heard the laugh - the very laugh that caused nightmares to plague him every night since that event - the teenager had then not needed to hear the ghost speak to know exactly to whom the voice belonged.
After all, nobody would know Danny Phantom better than Danny Phantom himself.
"You!" Fourteen-year-old Danny Fenton accused, immediately transforming into his alter-ego and charging an ectoblast while glaring down his warped reflection. He grit his teeth as fury bubbled to the surface and the settled dread morphed into panic. His older self chortled harshly.
"Me? You? What's the difference." The remark was met with stinging green blast to the face, its owner recoiling slightly. Phantom's grin persisted, however, serving as a signal for Danny to perform another move towards defeating the enemy and keeping his new comrades safe.
