The ghost's lip curled up in disgust. It knew it wasn't going to make it out "alive" in a sense. It was ancient, and if the hunters didn't destroy its frail, translucent body, it would only to fade away completely with age. Every ghost had an expiration date; the same date their obsession vanishes. This ghost was a manifestation of human belief tied to a dying culture; a nameless practice of sacrifice that had been lost long ago.

The ghost was going to find a sacrifice, an innocent soul with a pure heart, and unfortunately stumbled upon the son of the Fentons. Coincidence or Fate, only Clockwork knows. It is quite ironic, however, that the same child chosen as a sacrifice would gladly give himself to vanquish the ghost. A pure heart indeed.

Back to the present. The ghost was cornered in the Casper High courtyard, clenching the boy's wrist in its flickering claws. It had few choices:

Surrender? That was NEVER an option.

Fight? And risk capture? Please.

Flee? Only to fade to nothing? A coward's way out.

Or? Go out with an unceremonious BANG, taking the hunters with him?

Four. Definitely four.

The air began to weigh down on the captive boy's shoulders as the spirit's power skyrocketed. No one else seemed to notice. Maybe it was because he was touching it? It was an immeasurable amount of power. Danny, the boy, vaguely remembered a conversation with his ghost obsessed father about ghostly strength. "…the older the ghost, Danny-boy, the more power it's preserved in the years before it fades. They can be pretty nasty before they go out, which is why you should have this!" And with that said his father shoved the newest Fenton-made device into his hand and him out the door.

That statement wasn't exactly reassuring at the moment, seeing as this ghost could collapse in on itself at any moment. But that didn't mean its grip on Danny's wrist was any weaker.

It took a while for him to actually put two and two together. Once total comprehension hit him, his eyes began to widen. He had a feeling that this ghost was especially ancient. The spectral energy build up had risen off the charts, meaning that, yes, this really old ghost was going to go kaboom. And it would be a big boom.

The young Fenton boy glared at the ghost before him. All he needed was a second to pull whip out his parents' invention.

To Danny, the sphere looked like a silver and green tennis ball, the classic Fenton color scheme. In reality, it was a portable ghost shield that expanded outward in a ten foot radius.

Which would soon become a blast zone.

"EVERYONE, GET BACK!"

Taking the sphere in his unrestricted hand, Danny threw it full force at the ground, and not a moment too soon. He was encased in a green bubble, and then the world erupted in a blistering white flash.

Maddie

"EVERYONE, GET BACK!" we all leapt away without thinking. My son slammed the sphere into the earth with more force than I thought he could muster, when it finally dawned on me what he was doing. As I lunged for him, the shield activated, and I watched him smile sheepishly within the shield as the pure ectoplasm exploded.

People were screaming.

I was screaming.

"DANNY! DANNY!" I clung to my husband's arm, weapons forgotten. I was crying, but not for long.

The shield was meant to repel ghosts, ghost rays; the smaller violent attacks. Not explosions on par with earth-shattering bombs. The green sphere deteriorated in seconds, though the brunt of the forced was reduced. We were knocked off of our feet, and I could have sworn I saw something escape the inferno.

Danny

I'm alive! That's the natural reaction.

Wait, something's wrong. I was slow to sit up; my body had apparently gone through hell and back. That wasn't all. I was roasted at the school, but now? I took a look at my surroundings with sharp eyes. Now I guessed I was on the forest floor, miles away from the city limit, and it was probably close to dawn.

Something was off. I put my hand to my chest; my heart was racing, but still beating. I took a deep breath; it was shaky, but I was still breathing. I put a hand to my head; I was burning up, but still warm. I raked my hand through my messy hair; it was tangled, but it was white.

It was white.