A/N: Yup, I died for a long while. I'm in my twenties and moved around, worked long hours, and had drama so much that I gave up on writing for the longest time. However, I'm back for a while and I present Danny Phantom because I'm an overgrown nerd. Whelp, to my embarrassment, I'm leaving my old fics from Naruto and so forth on my page. Please don't judge me on my horrible older writing style. I'm trying to get better. Anyway on with the show. Any questions, please ask.

Chapter One

Students milled around Casper High School carefully avoiding the yet to be cleaned up broken glass. No one batted an eye. They knew this carnage was the result from yet another ghost attack involving Danny Phantom, resident ghost fighter, and an unidentified ghost. Most students cheered the teen ghost fighter, seeing as how it easily got them out of class. Some however, didn't feel so content with this paranormal superhero. Wesley Weston, Wes to most, grumbled under his breath as his basketball sneakers squeaked lightly against the gym locker room floor. He absolutely hated Danny Phantom. It wasn't that he was a danger to other students or his powers. No. Wes hated him because everyone was blind that Danny Phantom was Danny Fenton. He even went as far as saying his finding out loud and Fenton actually MOCKED him. Well, mocked as in a smug smile and an 'I don't know what you're talking about' expression.

Ever since Wes moved to Amity Park five, nearly six years ago, he had noticed how absent minded people were. If it wasn't ghost attacks, the Men in White, or the Fenton Household causing some sort of disturbance; Wes could say that this town was somewhat normal. Wes tossed open his newly dented gym locker to grab his backpack. Today was a treat for sure. A metal hunter ghost and a giant ghost dog. Where would the surprises end? He felt ready to slam his fist into his locker door. The clop of boots caught Wes's attention. The young basketball player turned and saw another student standing at the entrance to the boy's locker room. It was Jay, or was it Jason; he couldn't quite recall, standing before him. Wes narrowed his forest green eyes at the half baked punk rocker and sneered.

"You come to make fun of me too?"

The punk rocker raised a manicured eyebrow at the much shorter teen and proceeded to walk to another locker across the way to him.

"Hey, I said something to you, Jay," Wes shouted!

Faster than Wes could think, the other boy slammed the teens shoulder back against the mangled remains of his locker door and sneered back, holding the basketball player steady.

"You need to learn to pick your battles, kid," he drawled with a light southern accent, "This is why people are starting to call you crazy."

Wes stared back at his captor in shock. How did he move so quickly and what in the hell was he talking about? Picking battles with whom? The only one he's messing with is this guy. Jason's dark blue eyes bored into Wes's green for a few moments before releasing the younger man.

"I mean, Danny Fenton," the punk reiterated, "people here have the awareness of a field mouse. Making displays of your theory is making everyone more blind to the truth. They see it as so ridiculous that even if the Fenton kid does come out, they'll think it's a lie."

Wes was awestruck. Someone believed him. He could have laughed, cried, danced in happiness, but in reality, all he did was stand against his locker gaping like a fish out of water. Jason glanced sideways at Wes and sighed, stuffing his wallet in his pocket from his own mangled locker.

"Wha-you…you know he's Phantom," Wes stammered ridiculously, "How? Everyone just laughs at me."

"I know," Jason drawled lightly, "is because I'm not from here. I don't accept hand fed crap and half baked lies as truths. Also, a minor in psychology helps."

Wes winced at Jason's hard spoken words. He nearly forgot the teen had transferred from Oklahoma to Wisconsin nearly half a year ago. Every rocker, Goth, or scene girl drooled over the guy so much; you'd forget he's a natural born hick under the thin eyeliner and red dyed hair. It was now that Wes actually looked at the man. He was sixteen while Wes himself was fourteen. The guy wore thin black eyeliner making the dark, navy blue of his eyes gleam and his oddly neat razored red-brown hair hung loose while a seemingly purposeful five o' clock shadow marred his slightly rounded jaw line. He looked much older than his age allowed and Wes would be jealous if he was more vain.

"Come on kid, get yourself together," Jason said, catching Wes's attention, "You want real proof of Phantom?"

Wes spluttered and jerked himself around to make sure no one was listening.

"What are you getting at? I already proved it once and no one listens to me."

Jason grinned widely, showing naturally pointed fangs. A deep, darkness in the teens blue eyes made Wes shiver lightly.

"Yes, yes you did," Jason agreed, leaning his taller form against the locker behind him, "But, you're proving it to the wrong person. People are stupid, a person is smart. "

Wes was utterly confused. This guy is psychology minor and he's entirely insane. The teen backed away slowly from him.

"Come now," Jason drawled on, "it's simple extortion. Make Phantom know you have his secret without spluttering it out like a Pixar character. If the guy is hiding behind the novelty that others think there's no way he could be Phantom, then I say it's time to play a little cat and mouse. That is, until the mouse runs head first into the mousetrap."

Jason's wild grin dimmed down into a calm leer as he finished speaking. Why would this guy help him out Fenton? What was in it for him? Wes had never spoken to the punk rocker until today. They were WAY too far from each other on the school food chain. Wes followed Jason onto what was left of the gym floor before lowering his voice so no one else could hear.

"What do you get out of this?"

Jason's fanged smile made another appearance. A loud bellowing laugh roared out of the other teen like he told the world's funniest joke.

"It's going to be part of my semester project. Manipulation and how younger minds react compared to an adult's reasoning skills," Jason chuckled, "I saw your display with Fenton and thought I could squeeze an A onto my report card with this mess. Maybe get some entertainment out of it as well."

"You- You're crazy," Wes muttered as he walked close to the other teen, "I think you need to be evaluated."

Jason snorted, pushing open the gym door and casually holding it open for Wes.

"Nah," the other teen answered simply, "I just see the world differently. If you think I'm scary, read some of the killer profiles our Psychology classes have to proper evaluate mental illness. All I can say about myself is that I have a problem with emotional detachment."

Wes cringed. This felt like a horrible idea. Jason gave him the creeps from hell. How can girls fall over and kiss his boots all the time? He's manipulative. The taller teen glanced across the school yard at the other students and pulled a pen from his pocket.

"Call me if you want this plan to work out more," Jason spoke softly, "It's up to you if you want my involvement. I'm just going to observe for now."

The rocker quickly grabbed Wes's free hand and jotted down his phone number on the stretch of skin near Wes's thumb and briskly walked away, making it seem like they were just leaving the gym together. Wes stood at the gym doorway for several moments, uncertain of what he was going to do. Stay the course, and watch Fenton until he exposes himself as Phantom or get Jason's help and manipulate Fenton into doing it himself? It was a hard decision. On his own, he was already mocked, but with Jason's help he could make anything happen. The guy already had Fenton's friend Sam Manson in his pocket from the time that the rocker commented on how fake Paulina's eyebrows were. He had never heard the Latina girl cry until then. It only took five words to get Sam on the guys side.

"You're eyebrow's are really tacky."

That's all it took.