AU; What if Danny was sent to military school right before becoming Danny Phantom? What if...everyone was? Danny, the ever dweeb to his peers, is the new kid, Sam kicks ass, and Tucker is an infamous military hacker who still gets picked on. Welcome to Hartman Military Academy. An origins fic.


Chapter One: Introductions


"I just, I don't get why-"

"Danny, really sweetheart, it's a rite of passage for everyone in my family to attend Hartman Military. You should be no exception," recited his mother as the redhead bustled around her laboratory, making checkmarks into the pamphlet she had strapped into her clipboard.

"But Jazz was an exception!"

"Jazmine was awarded a full scholarship to Amity Prep, I didn't have the heart to tell her that all her hard work throughout elementary and middle school was put to naught. Plus, we just couldn't afford it."

"B-but, Dad! Talk some sense into Mom!"

"Danny Boy! Come on, you're a Fenton aren't you? You don't scare at new opportunities. If you did, you wouldn't be fit to hunt ghosts! Don't you want the funding and training to fight some ectoplasmic scum? And it's free!"

"Okay, you do realize that the Fentons didn't attend military school, right? That this is a Mora tradition? And I didn't even know about this military tradition until like five seconds ago! Why should I have to attend some military academy just because you guys are being paid to make some weapons for them? Did Aunt Alicia even-"

"Your Aunt Alicia did attend. All the Mora family did and as much as I love being a Fenton, this is a tradition I do adhere to! You should be thankful of the United States Army Daniel, really, we wouldn't have a roof over our heads if they didn't keep buying our guns. I was already sad enough to think that we wouldn't be able to afford to keep the tradition alive, but now that they're paying us to conduct research, they agreed to give you a full scholarship in admittance. It doesn't matter if you're starting in your sophomore year, attendance is attendance! So help me Daniel Fenton, I will drag you by your ear and leave you stranded without anything at Hartman if I have to!"

And that was the end of that. As much as he wanted to argue further, he was a momma's boy at heart and didn't want to upset or infuriate his mother anymore, especially with all the ectoplasm weapons she had in her wake on the table she was examining with her clipboard in tow. That's right, you heard me, ectoplasm. His parents were brilliant scientists that were plucked from Wisconsin College to make prototype weaponry for the United States Army, National Guard, and the Navy Seals, many picked up to field testing, such as their working shrink ray. But, as his blubbering and excitable father had stated earlier, the Fenton family were also famous for hunting ghosts, or at least, they thought so. In all of Danny's fourteen years of life, he never once encountered a single real ghost, but instead was haunted by the inventions his parents made, including ectoplasm explosions over his possessions and food, said food coming alive and trying to attack him, etc. He still has nightmares about hot dogs. Don't ask.

With a sigh, he climbed the two flights of stairs from the basement to his room to stare at his semi-packed belongings. His father was known as the easily excitable one, so it came as a bit of a shock for Danny to see his mother so animated as she quickly spoke of his acceptance into the academy as she folded his clothes into suitcases. He sputtered angrily. She paused in her actions before repeating her news and before he could counter back angrily she told him to finish packing himself as she headed towards the Fenton laboratory to join her husband, Danny clambering behind her. Which brings us back here.

Looking around, Danny couldn't help but wonder why his family was so invested in the thought that he was going to continue in the family business of ghost hunting when so clearly, given the alignment of planets dangling from the ceiling, the small rocket replicas adorning his nightstand and bookshelf, as well as the astronomy books lying about, that he was already invested in another career. He wanted to be an astronaut.

Rolling his eyes, Danny wondered out loud, "I mean, ghosts versus aliens? Aliens would totally win...unless like...there are ghost aliens? Ghosts are just dead people, right?" He shook his head, "Duh, ghosts don't exist." With a downward glance he packed away his astronomy book in his suitcase on top of the pile of clothes his mother already packed.

"Might as well get this over with."


It wasn't too long of a drive from Amity Park, Indiana to Chicago, Illinois. At least, it wasn't as bad as other Fenton family road trips. I mean, nothing says family vacation like ectoplasm in the face and more haunted hot dogs. But anyways, he rested his head in his palm looking out the window as his parents chatted admittedly. There was the tree he was hung by his underwear with. There was the flagpole he was taped to. There was the movie theaters he liked to visit on the weekends. It was like watching his past memories come to life to replay as he drove away from the place he once called home. Actually, this is kind of sad. I mean, his life. Looking back at it, why didn't he want to move away and start over?

"That's a good point Danny!" Oh, he spoke out loud, "I'm glad you're finally seeing this as a window of opportunity."

Yeah, a total redo of who he is. He doesn't have to be a so-called loser being picked on by everyone. He can totally do this.

"We're here, Danny!"

With a deep breathe Danny stepped out of the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle-I mean, the RV and looked around at the surrounding barbed wire landscape. He was in awe as a mass of bulky men jogged past him wearing cargo shorts and army green tshirts. There was a field of people airly juggling rifles in a routine pattern, a group combating through an obstacle course that towered so high it craned Danny's neck to look further. Whoa.

Looking around at shock Danny took a step further...face first into mud. It appeared he tripped on air. Looking upwards and trying to blink the mud away, Danny looked at his new peers that all had their eyes trained on him.

"Hey, did you have a nice trip? See you next fall!" Laughed a stocky blonde as he led the jog of people away from the sprawled out kid lying in the mud.

Great. So much for starting over and not being a loser.


After his mom doddled on him some, wiping at his face with a Fenton baby wipe until he jostled her away, earning more laughs from the people in front of him, he was clean enough in the face to see clearly and proceed to unload his things from the RV. His parents walked in front of him in strides as the principal or whatever the equivalent to a principal is at a military school gave them a quick tour of the academy.

"I must say Major Cadet Mora, it is a pleasure to welcome you back to Hartman, you really were one of the best we've ever had," said the bulky man as he lead them along. He was as tall and as large as his father, but unlike Jack Fenton, this man appeared to be pure muscle, even at his age. He was an intimidating Latino with slated gray hair and a matching bushy mustache.

With a giggle his mother responded, "It's Fenton now General Sanchez, and please, I graduated long ago, just a few classes below you. Call me Maddie."

"Once a cadet, always a cadet to me now I'm afraid. Ah, and here are the dormitories. This is the end of the tour," boomed the accented low baritone, "Cadet Fenton!" And Danny jumped at the voice, realizing he was the one being addressed, "This is your hall," he through an ID pass at him, "You're identification number is 040304082408, otherwise known as Cadet Fenton with bed X53. We have a twenty-two hundred curfew all students abide by as well as a o'six hundred wake up. Beds will be made. Shoes will be shined. Orders will be obeyed which I'm sure won't be a problem if your mother is any example. DISMISSED!" he finished, leading his parents away from him. What, no hug goodbye? But his mother walked along, somewhat dragging her husband along as he complained about wanting to see the mess hall.

With eyes full of confusion he took in the large black bunker labeled "X" and wondered why the old guy called it a hall before entering with his two suitcases in toe. The hall was a pristine sight with rows of beds and trunks at the ends stacked in rows. Men all around were chattering about, sitting on beds all clad in the same state of dress. All the beds had a system, it seemed for almost all of them were made with the tiniest personalizations peeking out under the plain green sheets. They were all lettered with an "X" at the beginning followed by a series of numbers. If his listening skills were any good, he had to find the number 53. Rolling his suitcases behind him as quietly as he could until he succeeded in finding the empty bunk with the sheets folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. He opened the trunk at the end and proceeded to empty his belongings.

"Hey Nguyen, isn't this the guy who fell in the mud earlier?" Asked the same bulky, blonde that was jogging past him earlier.

"I think you're right Baxter. Think we should show him a proper Hartman welcome?"

"I think you're right Nguyen. What's this say?" Questioned Baxter as he snatched Danny's new ID tag, "Fenton? With the mud you still got on you it's more like Fenturd." He laughed cruelly yanking Danny up by the scruff of his shirt, "God, you're puny. You're never gonna survive here." He chastised as he dragged Danny to the closest utility closet, "But maybe here you will!" And with that said Baxter through the raven-haired boy into the closet without another word, the other Asian boy laughing as the Baxter guy came back with what Danny would assume to be a high five, but he wouldn't know because the slither of what he could see closed off along with the door.

"Hey. Hey!" Danny yelled as he jiggled the doorknob.

"Yeah, that's not going to work," called a voice behind him.

"GHOST?" Danny cried, skitting up so his back was to the door.

"Uhm, no. I'm a human." Said the voice as a screen illuminated the boy that was talking to him, "But ghosts? That's just weird, dude."

"Long story. Wait, how long have you been in here?" Questioned Danny as he took in his closet-mate. An African American boy with a small built, glasses askewed.

"Since about o'nine hundred."

"O'nine hundred- you mean like nine? But it's eleven o'clock!"

"Sometimes it's better in here," the kid shrugged, "there's surprisingly an outlet so I usually just play Doom on my PDA."

"Dude, no way, you can play Doom on your PDA?"

"Most people can't. I hacked into the gaming software and aligned certain keys as my joystick."

"That's sick," Danny exclaimed as he slid next to the kid and invited himself to watching the other boy play.

An hour passed before he thought to introduce himself, "Oh Crap. I'm Danny by the way."

His companion laughed, "I'm Tucker."

And that is how Danny became acquainted with Tucker Foley.

"So this Dash Baxter, he locks you up in here all the time?" asked Danny.

"Pretty much," Tucker said with a shrug, "If this was a regular high school it'd be like him cramming me into a locker or something, but no, I have to live with him, so the utility closet it is."

"And does he ever let you out?"

"Oh, I let myself out." With that said Tucker held up his PDA to the doorknob and the tech device sprang to life, letting out a sharp tool that drilled into the doorknob and with a click, the door was pushed ajar, "He and Kwan Nguyen tend to forget they've abandoned me somewhere."

"So you're here...willingly. And you decided to tell me this after I've been sitting in a pile of drying mud for the last hour and a half?"

"Oh. Oops." The boy said sheepishly.

"It's all good." Danny stretched out his legs before standing up to his full height, "I just wanna take a shower...where is that, by the way?"

Tucker laughed before telling his new friend he'd show him around the right way.


After a grueling teenage self deprivation moment when he learned the boy's bathroom resembled that of a racy tv sitcom where the area was opened and Tucker made a horrible, "Don't drop the soap" comment, here he was, in the standard green t-shirt and cargo pants, combat boots laced up ready to take on the mess hall.

"We got an assortment of food here, I'm partial to the meats, especially myself, but we kinda got everything. Literally, last year the General stuck in a tofu and salad bar," he rolled his eyes, "For some reason some people like to be a vegetarian or whatever. Idunno. Sounds gross though" Spoke Tucker as he gave Danny a tray to hold his food, "But yeah, I recommend the meatloaf."

With a bemused smirk Danny thanked him before looking around and promptly almost dropped his tray.

"Who. Is. That?" He questioned with wide eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, that's Paulina Sanchez," answered Tucker in a dreamy voice, "Literally the hottest girl around. She's not a cadet, though. Her dad's Lieutenant General Sanchez, he's kind of like...a headmaster here. So yeah, she just lives on the premises. She goes to prep school in town, but she comes around often enough, God bless. I think she just likes being hot shit around here. It's a welcomed sight considering most of the girls here are…" he trailed off with a not so subtle look at another direction. Danny pried his eyes away from the hottest girl ever to look at what Tucker was showing him, girls with their hair pulled up in tight ponytails, matching cargo pants and army green tank tops. They were all waiting in line with scowls, weirdly bulging muscles and no care for how they appeared.

"I see your point."

"But I'd make out with any of them honestly." He finished with a shrug as he grabbed his own tray and made a B-line for the mystery meat.

Scanning the area Danny was trying to decide what he felt like eating and pondered around in the middle of the kitchen-ess area.

"Ay! Fenturd got out of the closet," Dash Baxter stopped when he heard the other innuendo in his saying, "Heh, makes sense considering your puny size."

"Really Dash? Homophobic comments? And here I thought you were turning into a semi-decent cadet." said a feminine voice behind Danny. Turning around, he saw another girl sporting a high ponytail, the standard cargo pants and combat boots, but this girl was different. Her shirt was cut hazardously into a cropped v-neck tank top and she had purple lipstick smeared on.

"Manson. What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want my fellow peers to be high enough on an intellectual level to not make misogynist or homophobic jokes about others, especially considering that, for example, this school allows all genders and sexes and how each cadet performs at a stellar level to their own capacity in a certain given field. But sadly, I'm stuck with people like you," the girl finished with a frown.

"I have no idea what you just said Manson, but if I found out it's bad, you're dead!"

"Oh, I'm so scared of the guy who always comes in third next to my first on the overall Hartman scoreboard."

Dash fumed as he left their presence to go back to his table, which Danny learned, is the same one Paulina seemed to frequent. Great.

"Uh, thank you, uhm-"

"Manson. As you heard Baxter say." Her amethyst eyes gazed over his form, "You're new. Good luck here." And with that she turned away from him into the crowd of people sitting at tables.

"Sam Manson. Resident badass and best student in the whole freaking place. Don't get on her bad side dude." Regarded Tucker as he came up behind Danny munching on a turkey leg.

"And her...shirt?"

"Idunno, form of rebellion? She's the best of the best, Lieutenant General Sanchez doesn't give her much thought besides the fact that she kicks everyone's butt."

"She's so small."

"Don't let looks deceive you."


Tucker was twelve when he learned how to bypass the national security system. What can he say, it was a Friday night and he was bored. What else was he to do, hang out with friends? Hah. Tucker Foley didn't have any friends.

It started with trying to learn about a swimsuit catalog. Miss Illinois looked hot, okay? And then he learned that Miss Illinois was actually Sergeant Amber and when he tried to learn more about Sergeant Amber, or rather Elaine Amber, he was struck with a bunch of firewalls. What was a small lonely geek to do? Bypass the firewalls to learn about the hot chick. It didn't take too long, maybe two hours-coding wasn't as simple as it was shown in the spy movies. But low and behold he was able to grasp onto Amber's classified file to find that the plot of Miss Congeniality really wasn't as far fetched as some people were led to believe.

After a while, he was shut out of the webpage with a whiny, "Hey!" but, since he was a prepubescent boy after all, he moved on to the next swimsuit model in the catalog. The woman he oogled didn't necessarily have to be the lady representing his state.

He forgot all about the ordeal honestly as he finally finished middle school, but the Nation didn't forget. When two Generals flanked his house, his parents were in quite a state of shock while he rubbed his forehead with remembrance. The Generals concluded that Tucker meant no malice, all those years ago, but still, they were intrigued. They stated that they knew of his hacking long ago, but stated that he was much too young to be enrolled in a Military Academy as they would have liked to do. But, he wasn't so young anymore. After offering a full scholarship, the Generals insisted that Tucker be enrolled in Hartman Military Academy. After staring at them for long enough, Tucker learned that he wasn't just being offered to enroll, he was being forced to, for the "security of the Nation." He held out long enough to postpone for one measly day.

Better have a powerful ally than a powerful potential enemy.

He didn't live far from his state capital of Chicago, his mother constantly pointed out this fact, telling him that he could visit them or vice versa every weekend.

His father, Morice, took him to the side upon arrival, "Now, I know this isn't what you would have wanted or expected of your High School experience."

"You can say that again, Dad."

"But, I just want you to know how proud your mother and I am of you and...well," pulling a bow-wrapped present from his pocket, "Don't forget to check up on us every once in awhile, okay? Don't worry, I'm not gonna let your mother drive up here every weekend."

Unwrapping the present Tucker found the newest in handheld technology, a bright and shiny looking PDA.

"B-but, this wasn't supposed to come out for months!"

"Well your dad does have some connections in the lab." His father winked and Tucker's grin reached both cheeks. Happily flushed, he turned from his parents with a jubilant wave.

He was too lost in programming his PDA to look up as he walked so it was inevitable that he would bump into something, or rather, someone.

"Oh, my bad dude, I wasn't watching where I was going."

The large Asian kid stared down at him, "It's cool, though you're kinda late. Everyone else moved in yesterday."

"Yeah, I know."


He hated military school. They made him run. They made him sweat. They threw away his beret-His beret! Worst of all, the Lieutenants wanted him to eat vegetables. Not even his parents would do that! So yeah, he hated it.

Almost all of the guys were bigger than him, which didn't help his ego. The one bright side to that though, was that no one paid any attention to him.

Making his way through the mess hall, he sat next to his friend Kwan, "Dude. I can't take this place. All I want to do is go home, curl up on my bed, and play some video games. I miss technology, sweet technology."

Kwan chuckled as he spooned some mashed potatoes, "I mean that'd be pretty cool but Idunno, I kinda like it. Check this out!" He cried as he flexed his right arm, "I'm so buff after like a month!"

Tucker glanced at his own arms in comparison. Kwan was in much better favor than he when it came to this school.

"Hey, Kwan!" Called a blonde whose body built was similar to Kwan's.

"Dash, hey!" He smiled as the blonde sat opposite to him, next to Tucker.

"Hey, watch it." Tucker chastised seeing as Dash had almost sat on his PDA.

"Hmm?" Dash hummed, as if just noticing him for the first time, "Ugh, a Dweeb. What are you doing with the likes of him?" Dash asked Kwan as he flicked Tucker's glasses.

"Tucker? Oh, he's cool-" Kwan realized Dash's unimpressed look and his slight movement that indicated that he was about to stand up and walk away from the duo, "I mean, yeah, I don't even know, dude, the loser just say across from me!"

"What? Kwan…"

Dash snorted, "Listen loser," he pushed Tucker off the bench aligned with the lunch table, "We don't know why you'd even try to sit with us but scram."

Tucker looked at the two larger boys in disdain. He thought Kwan was his friend, but as he scrambled back up to his feet and saw the two boys laugh at each other's jokes he realized he didn't need friends, just like back home. Or at least, friends that didn't care about him enough.


Tucker hated military school, but there were some perks.

"Cadet Foley, your assistance is needed in the computer lab."

Tucker almost smirked. Even though he was one of the least capable cadetes in the existence of Hartman when it came to physical exuberance, he was more than capable of handling anything tech savvy.

Dash Baxter looked at him with slight jealousy as Tucker was plucked from drills to help with a matter that the nation's own technical crew couldn't handle.

"Looks like I gotta leave all you losers, too bad man." He laughed as he followed the Lieutenants.

He may not be the number one Cadette here, as Samantha Manson, he thought as he passed by her on his walk to the computer lab, but he knew he was definitely needed and that's what mattered most. If only he could be challenged one of these days. He was light years beyond what the academy had to throw at him.


"Come on Sammykins! It's so pretty. You really need to start dressing better if you want to become a lady."

Sam looked at the dress her mother was holding in disdain, "How about...no."

Being born a Manson looked like a luxury from the point of view of outsiders. Even her peers, the Elites of New York, were jealous of the Manson's wealth.

Yet, Sam wanted nothing to do with it. Call it teenage rebellion, call it Sam's actual personality that her family just didn't want to digest. She didn't want to wear frills, florals or the color pink. She was totally satisfied with her black outfits, thank you very much. God, and when her mother through that outrageous party and the waiter dared serve her caviar, she pushed the platter in his face.

Her parents just didn't understand, she didn't want to live with this kind of luxury. Call her a weirdo. She already titled herself as one.

When her mother tried to set her up on a blind date with a snobby ginger who stared more at his reflection through a spoon rather than her, all of this being at the tender age of thirteen mind you, Sam had enough. Returning home from the horrid date, she marched into the bathroom with a pair of scissors ready to hack off her long, luxurious black locks as a sign to her mother that she wasn't to be messed with. Her mother, despite hating her father's natural black hair and making him bleach it blonde, loved her long routes due to her being able to style and curl it when she liked. Sam felt like her mother's own life-sized barbie doll. However, one of the many maids of the Mansion's penthouse saw what she was up to and thinking of the worst, tackled the teenager to the ground and snatching the scissors away, screeching about how life is worth living and how she should have taken the sign of Sam head to toe in black as a point in the direction of depression. She had to have a long discussion with her parents as well as a few therapists about her intentions before they believed her.

Sam was sick of therapists, pitying looks, her parents and the way they flaunted their money.

As August dwindled down, she dropped a document at the feet of her parents as they lounged at their rooftop pool. The top of the packet read 'Hartman Military Academy' in bold letters.

"Sammy...what is this?" Questioned her father.

"I'm sending myself away, I'm sick of this place a-and I'm sick of yo-" she stopped herself, "I need to be away for a while. Grandma already signed off the papers."

Her parents were in a state of shock as she walked away, too shocked to stop her.


She was grinded past normal comfort, and she loved it. Everyday the cadets ran drills and they were pushed to their limits. It was much more daunting than being forced to have a mani-pedi and it was the exact opposite extreme that she was looking for. Maybe because it was so different than she was used to and how she strived on difference, but she had a natural knack for this place. It made her happier than she's been in a long time and that might just be another reason why she was doing so well. No longer did she have to hide in the shadows of extravagant parties. Now she could be exactly show she is.

"Bring it in maggots!" Lieutenant Tetslaff called out as the bundle of cadets banded together in front of Tetslaff covered in sweat and mud. Sam stared down at her rope burned hands with a tiny, wicked smile on her face.

"Much potential," she smiled as she mentally counted every teen in her eyesight, "All cadetes accounted for. Good. We…" she trailed off, inviting the teenagers to jump in.

"NEVER LEAVE A MAN BEHIND!"

"Or woman," she chastised, "We should really change that to 'person,' huh? Alright, dismissed!"

Sam turned with the masses, but Tetslaff's large, meaty hand stopped her.

"Manson, you really are outshining my other pupils."

"Oh," she chucked, embarrassed, "Well, I-"

"You're becoming a star, a model Cadet. I like it." With that Tetslaff walked away in the direction the other teens went.

Starr Andersson tsked at her boyfriend Kwan Nyugen, "Model student? More like the military version of like a teacher's pet!"

A teacher's pet. The words echoed in Sam's head. Exemplary. That was never her, she was never the perfect...anything.

Looking down at the standard state of dress Sam realized that there was nothing unique about her anymore. Without her black clothes, there was nothing to set her apart from the masses. But, that's who she is-she's different! That's her personality!

Licking her lips, she walked not towards the mess hall where everyone else was at but to hall "G," her hall. Sitting down on her pristine bed, not unlike everyone else's she wondered what she should have done differently, what she could be doing differently.

"I don't want to give this up, I finally found something I'm good at," she thought out loud. Looking at the shining reflection of her boots Sam realized that there was more to this school than talent. Military school was about uniformity.

Grabbing her toiletries she went to the showers that thankfully had stalls, unlike (from what she heard at least) the boy's bathroom.

She went to bed with a plan.

The next morning she walked into the mess hall with a smirk, 'Thank you Grandma Ida.'

There was something about a new lip product and a tiny, cleavage and belly showing shirt that grabbed the attention of the crowd. Wanted attention, but not for the reason people believed.

"Slut," coughed Starr with a look of malice as she stared down the Manson girl.

Sam didn't care. This wasn't to seem hot or easy. This was to tick people off.

"Manson!" Growled Lieutenant General Sanchez, "My office! Now!"

The crowed "Oohed," but Sam took it in stride. She sat opposite of the General as he took his seat behind his desk.

"Tetslaff showed me your scores. You're perfect."

She blinked, "What? This is about...my scores?"

"I'm not an idiot Cadet Manson, but with scores like these, I'm not one to complain."

"So I can...stay...like-"

"You're wearing the green tank top, cargo pants and boots. They're shined. I see nothing wrong. My daughter, for instance dresses in a much worse state."

She smiled, thankful for the General being the father of a slutty daughter.

"At least, I don't see anything wrong as long as you keep scores like these." He gave her a long look.

"U-understood General, I mean, Lieutenant General, I mean, sir-"

"Manson," he warned with a chuckle.

"Does this mean I can organize a peaceful protest and or riot to include a vegetarian meal plan in the mess hall?"

He tried hard not to roll his eyes in fondness, "I'll see what I can do. Dismissed."

Trying hard to contain a smile Sam left the office with more beat in her step than before.