This is the third and final part in my "Shadowy Rose" series! Please note that I haven't watched Teen Titans in quite a long time and I'm going off of what I remember about the characters. Also note that there are two stories before this one, and you can find them on my profile. Otherwise this story won't make much sense. Enjoy and please review!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DANNY PHANTOM OR TEEN TITANS. ONLY THE MAIN CHARACTER IS MINE. (This warning will only be showing up here on the first chapter, so please take note of it!)
"Get back here, you thieving kids!" the baker shouted at us as we ran. Laughing, we ducked into an alleyway and turned invisible; the baker ran into the alley, looked around for a few minutes, cursed, and left. As soon as we were sure he was gone, he broke out into fits of laughter again. Our arms full of bread, we made our way back to our little hideout.
"Look at how much we got today, Shadow!" my white-haired companion, Phantom, gloated. "You'd think he would've tightened security after the first few times we stole from him!" His white hair was speckled with dust, making it look slightly grey.
"Yeah, I'd say," I snickered, my own black hair full of dust. It didn't help that we lived in an abandoned, decrepit house. However, through stealing and lying, we kept ourselves alive. However, we never stole more than we needed to. Phantom's tattered short-sleeve black shirt, torn white cape, baggy black pants, and white gloves (with their fingers cut off so that they fit him) accounted for that. His shirt was far too big for him and almost reached his knees; the black pants went to about mid-calf on him, though they were meant to only reach his knees. His cape had been sewn back together many times, and we'd stitched a large black "P" into it, for "Phantom".
My own grey long-sleeve shirt was baggy, hanging off of one shoulder to stay on the other. I had a purple tank-top under my grey shirt, the tank-top too long and stretching to about mid-thigh. My grey shirt went to my knees. I wore thick, tattered jeans that had been stitched back together many times and only stayed on my hips because we had scavenged for a belt (and luckily we'd found one, with clips to hold items too!) to loop around the waistband. I usually wore a dark purple beanie to hide my wolf ears, though this time I had forgotten it at home. Since my shirt sleeves went past my hands, I didn't wear gloves. Besides, what use would gloves be if I didn't have a weapon on me? Gloves would make my claws useless.
"So," Phantom started, "should we spray-paint a big ghost on that Tower tonight, or should we just make it look like a mess?"
"I'm thinking the big ghost," I answered thoughtfully, my tail brushing the backs of my thighs. "We vandalized the town hall yesterday, with no real plan to it. I think graffiti art would make it look like we actually have a plan instead of just teenagers being teenagers."
The white-haired ghost across from me laughed, almost choking on his bread. "Yeah, you're right," he managed to gasp out after he had swallowed the bread. "After all, we aren't just teenagers. We're ghost teenagers. We'd better make that apparent before we scare them all to death by escaping prison."
I grinned, swallowing the dry food. I liked the way Phantom was thinking.
-line break-
It was dark.
Of course, we normally attacked during the night. We hardly ever slept, not that we needed to sleep as often as humans did. When we did sleep, we slept during the day. Green spray-paint in hand, we crept across the water surrounding the Tower and got to work. We stayed silent as we worked, unwilling to break the silence. By the time the sun began to rise, there was a giant ghost on the Tower. For added vandalism, we took some red spray-paint and wrote under the picture, Who you gonna call? Ghost Kids!
It was a play on the Ghost-Busters catchphrase, but our gang name was Ghost Kids. Whenever we were talked about on the news, the media just called us "the Ghost Kids" and thus we'd picked up the name for ourselves. We were first called "Ghost Kids" because we were near impossible to catch, but we knew the reality of it. It was pure irony.
Of course, being the cowards we were, we scampered before we could be caught. This would make for an interesting bit of news later today, that was for sure. Upon returning to our hideout, we collapsed into giggling fits on the sofa, shoulders brushing as we snorted.
"Oh man, imagine how angry they'll be!" I coughed, a bit of dust going down my windpipe. Yeah, we were strange. We were pretty sure we were ghosts (intangibility, invisibility, and flight were standard ghost powers, though we didn't fly so much as hover) and yet we needed to do human things like eat and drink and sleep. We were even capable of getting drunk, though alcohol didn't affect us. We got drunk off of electricity; a low-voltage would get us immensely drunk, even hungover in some cases.
I began to cough harsher, a sticky substance coming up and leaking through my open mouth. It dripped onto the floor; the green ectoplasm evaporated after a little bit, the decrepit hideout far too hot for the ectoplasm to remain, even when it was so close to me.
"You a'ight?" Phantom murmured softly to me, one of his hands drifting over my back in hesitant comfort. We tried not to show weakness, even around each other. That was the reason why he was so careful in comforting me; it would be like admitting I was weak. And weak I was not. Anyone who had met my giant wolf form would agree.
"Yeah," I rasped, giving him a smile. He returned it with a cocky grin, leaning back onto the couch as though relieved.
"Good. Mind sparking the radio on? It won't be long before the giant ghost on the Tower is discovered. Isn't it called something like the T Tower?"
"Not at all." I let my fingers spark with purple electricity, the small presence at the back of my consciousness going unnoticed. The radio flickered on. "Yeah, I think that's the name. I think it stands for Teen Titans Tower." I snorted. "They have a stupid name."
"True that, though I think Ghost Kids might be stupider considering I'm 17 and you're 16."
"It sounds better than Ghost Teens or Ghost Adults. Ghost Kids has got this sort of ring to it, dude. It's catchy." I shrugged. "All adults call people under the age of 20 'kid'. So we're the Ghost Kids."
"...Yeah, I guess you're right."
