A.N: I know I should be working on my other stories, but I can't help it. I'm not only a plot thief, but also a story skipper. So that means whenever a new idea pops up- Bam- a new story is written. Sucks, doesn't it?

Anywho, this is inspired by all those TTxDP writers who usually start like this. Enjoy.

I do not own any of these characters. The world is grateful for that.

For once, he was glad for the rain. It soaked him to the bone, made him numb with the cold. And that was good. He needed to be numb; needed to wash away why he ran away in the first place. Needed to forget-

He snaps back to reality. Apparently, the rain wasn't working as well as he hoped. Sighing, he tries a different way to distract himself.

Mentally, he lists off what he's accomplished so far. Let's see: Destroyed the Boo-merang and all other tracking devices he could find? Check. Took a few ghost weapons, but idiotically forgot to bring enough money? Check. Changed his appearance? He was working on that. Danny Phantom was gone for sure. There was nothing he could do to earn that title again. Unfortunately, the rest of the world hadn't realized that, and he wasn't going to be the one to burst its bubble. So for now, he managed to rid of his Hazmat suit, but his mind couldn't decide on a new outfit. Thank goodness for this permanent ash grey cloak though, because majority of the time his clothes would dissolve into salt and pepper vapors that weren't very solid, mind you. Heavy chains were pierced though to hold the fabric closed. To protect everyone around him. And sometimes, that wasn't even enough. The logo stayed, no matter what. Not that he could dare rid of it. Not after...

He was close now, so close. Best time to transform while no one was around. He winces when he feels the blue ring erupt from his body and focuses hard to keep in control. When its over, his ghost form was replaced with his human half, complete with a makeover of its own.

Black hoodie over a faded yellow t-shirt. Black cargo pants tucked in matching hiker boots. Yellow shoelaces. Chains in the belt loops. 'Jackson's' getup would of made both his friends proud. Sure, Danny Fenton could still exist, but being recognized as such would ruin the purpose of running away. Flipping on his hood, a ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he walks away.

"Jump City; here I come."