War Aint Pretty

The bastard son

Danny Fenton walks calmly down the street, a light misting of rain pattering down on his mop of black hair, a faint blue ethereal mist escapes from his mouth and adds to the cumulative mist of the rain

'Oh joy…'

Sarcasm drips from these words as a blue ring slides over his body, a figure clad in a deep black trench coat, their face hidden by the shadows cast by a hood, walks in to sight and raises an appeasing hand

'I mean you no harm. I just wish to talk to you.'

The figure lowers his hood to show a young man, his long black hair shining dark blue and streaks of red reaches down to his shoulders, a pair of glasses frame his eyes, which curiously have no white but are a deep black, his iris stand out in deep red.

'My name is Mark Spencer, I just flew here from England to ask to join Team Phantom, now I know you must get these all the time, but I'm different.'

Danny groans inwardly and thinks

'This is just what I need, another wannabe after joining us for some glory.'

'All right, what can you bring to Team Phantom?'

Mark smirks as a pair of red rings slide over his body.

'How is nineteen years of experience at controlling and manipulating ectoplasm as a half ghost?'

Danny looks at the ghost before him with naught to say. After gasping for a few moments he manages to say

'H…How're you a half ghost for nineteen years?'

Mark laughs slightly

'It's a rather simple story, almost twenty years ago a ghost raped a British woman, that resulted in my birth. I found out who it was that raped my mum all those years ago four years back.'

Danny runs a hand through his hair and says

'So who is this ghost? That is if you don't mind me asking?'

Mark smiles slightly

'It's Vladimir Masters. It really pisses him off if you call him that by the way, I found that out a few months back when he tried to recruit me. I gave him a very nasty shock to say the least.'

Danny walks in to Fenton works with Mark in tow,

'Hey guys, we have a new recruit!'

Sam and Tucker snap their eyes up from a screen and say

'Really, don't we normally turn anyone away?'

Danny smiles and says

'Normally, yes we tell them to take a hike, but this isn't normal.'

Sam walks over and asks

'So, what do you have to offer?'

Mark smiles slightly and says

'The name's Mark, and I offer a very wide ranging expertise on the use and manipulation of ectoplasm while in the form of a half ghost.'

Tucker looks over and says

'What does that mean?'

Mark once again gives a smirk and says

'I'm half ghost, and have been for nineteen years now.'

Jazz sits up in her seat

'How have you been a half ghost for so long?'

Mark sighs

'To make a very long story short; I'm the bastard son of Vladimir Masters, born of rape.'

Tucker leaps to his feet and levels an ecto gun with Mark and yells

'You're Vlad's son, get the fuck out of here!'

Mark groans

'Yes, I am Vladimir's son, but I must emphasize the bastard part and the born of rape, the first time I saw him, was also the last time I saw him a few months ago, that is also the day I ended up pounding the fucker in to the ground. The only ties I have to that megalomaniac ephebophile* are that of blood, he didn't even know I was alive until I turned eighteen.'

Tucker watches as Danny and Mark fly off and says out loud to no one in particular

'I don't trust him. He's keeping something from us, I don't know what it is. Hell, it isn't even the fact that he's Vlad's kid, because he created Danni and now we have a "bastard" son.'

Jazz curls her legs around to her side and leans comfortably against the arm of the large sofa

'I know he is keeping his full story from us, but we all have our secrets, and we are entitled to keep them.'

Sam smirks slightly at Jazz and says

'There is something about him I trust, and yes Jazz, we are allowed secrets, but some need to be told.'

Jazz casts a worried glance at Tucker and says

'My secret is staying just that; secret, and he doesn't need to know.'

Mark and Danny fly through the air at a relaxed pace, Mark's coat flaps gently in the passing breeze and both young men's hair is pushed slightly backwards revealing dark blonde roots on Marks hair and a scar resting just beneath a widows peak.

'So Mark, I'm sure the easier life of no ghost in wherever you came from would be better then Amity Park, the most haunted city in the world, would be preferable.'

Mark laughs slightly

'My home may have been ghost free, but it was by no means easy. I dealt instead with the crimes of the living; bank robberies, muggings, attempted rape and the odd attempted murder, I grew on and I had a…err feeling I could be of use here. I had more incentive after Vladimir tried to recruit me. A man like him is nothing but a pain in the arse.'

A pale blue ethereal mist escapes Danny's mouth as Mark spits out a small tongue of green flames. Danny looks around frantically, a shot of green shoots past the floating figures and the pair lock eyes upon the mechanized Skulker.

'Hey Danny, do you mind if I have a little fun with him?'

Danny just nods, as Mark reaches for his left hip drawing away a small red pen knife, slowly he withdraws the can opener as he says

'So, You're Skulker, the self proclaimed best hunter of the ghost zone, and coincidentally, the only one active?'

He holds up the small attachment to his knife, less then an inch in size.

'I will prove to you that size doesn't matter in the slightest, by using a small tin opener to cut you open and see the small blob you really are.'

Mark quickly throws the small red handled pen knife in to the air and catches it with the withdrawn tool pointing to the right. Skulker begins to laugh and in a quick flash of black, his right arm falls away. Mark hovers nearby grinning evilly, his eyes bulging, and the small tin opener in his hand emitting a faint green glow

'You…you're…insane!'

'You say it like it's a bad thing.'

Danny watches in awe as black streaks slowly rip Skulker's lumbering suit to shreds. Slowly, Mark lowers himself with a captured Skulker safely in a thermos.

'I'm going to have to have a psychological evaluation aren't I?'