Being rewritten and completed (June 2014).
Agent B stolen from Fiddlehoffer.
School Zone
Danny's dad made waffles for breakfast. Although the pile on the table didn't seem to be glowing, floating, or growing teeth, Danny poked the waffles cautiously with his fork before settling all the way into his seat. One couldn't be too careful around his dad's cooking.
"Danny," his mother sighed, picking up on his thought process. "That was just the one time."
"Scarred for life," Danny retorted evenly. But, with the waffles doing nothing but sitting waffle-like on the plate, he shrugged, stabbed a few to transfer them to his plate, and then drowned them in syrup. Thoroughly stabbed and drowned, they were definitely not going to attack. As he chewed his way through breakfast, he eyed his mom. She had her portion of the table completely covered in various wires and gizmos. "What 'cha doing?"
"Trying to get this to work," she muttered, carefully maneuvering several wires into place with a pair of tweezers. "Our grant is nearly up and the agency is stopping by today…" she trailed off, staring down into the guts of whatever random device she was working on.
Danny smirked through his mouthful of waffles. 'The Agency' – the lame ass group of military washouts known as the Guys in White. They were some private, backroom subcontractor of the government. Their mission: to look into all the strange, supernatural crap that the official government couldn't touch and keep it under wraps. That way the politicians could claim they didn't know about it, the Freedom of Information Act wouldn't really apply, and everyone could keep their conspiracy theories focused on the stupid (and nonexistent) aliens in Roswell.
His dad leaned over his mom, blocking her light and almost dripping syrup off his plate into her broken whatever-it-is.
"Jack!" she admonished. "I need to get this done."
Jack shrugged and took a step back, chewing loudly on his waffles. "We'll just show them something else. We've got lots of inventions."
"Yes, but this one-" she broke off when the sound of knocking shattered through the room. For a moment, it looked like there was panic in her eyes. "Not yet," she whispered, picking up another wire and her solder gun. "Danny, can you get the door? Tell whoever it is to come back later."
"I-" Danny just barely started the protest, gesturing towards his still-steaming and half-eaten waffles, before he was fixed with twin parental glares. "Fine," he said darkly, pushing himself out of his chair and slinking towards the door. "Dad coulda done this, you know. He's just standing there," he grumbled.
This time when he walked through the living room, Danny noticed how clean it was. He paused, surprised when he couldn't see a single spare wire or transistor lying around. It was almost like he'd walked into someone else's living room. Or some strange alternate-dimension version of his own. He frowned. His mom must be more worried about the meeting today than she was letting on.
The knocking drove his feet moving again. He walked over to the door and opened it, prepared to see the massive hulk of some nameless Guy in White. Instead, he was met with the sight of a little ghost.
Danny blinked as his ghost sense (belatedly) warned him there was a ghost in the vicinity. "Hi."
She grinned up at him. A few of her front teeth were missing and her blue hair was done up in pigtails. Black was smudged around her green eyes and her clothes had a 90s rocker-chick vibe. All in all, she looked like a very young (and kinda cute) Ember McClain. "Danny!"
He glanced over his shoulder, but both his parents were still hiding in the kitchen. "Who are you?"
"My name's Cinder," she said proudly. "I'm s'possed to take you to school today."
"It's Saturday." Danny leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. "I don't go to school on Saturdays."
Her eyes widened. Pools of ectoplasm swirled in her irises. Then she laughed – a giggle that sounded just like a little girl would make - as she caught on to what he was saying. "No, silly, today's ghost school!"
"Ghost school?" he repeated sarcastically. "I don't go to a ghost school. I go to a human school."
"And ghost school," she chirped. "It's the Law."
That made him hesitate. "Since when?" he asked slowly.
She blinked up at Danny, eyes wide. "Don't you know about the Laws? They're since always." Her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper.
Danny mentally sighed. He did know the Laws.
The Laws equated to the human world's laws of physics: gravity, motion, thermodynamics, and the like. In the ghost world, the Laws covered things like the amount of energy could be in one place, territorial boundaries, and creating portals to the human world. Ghosts were bound to follow the Laws, whether or not they knew them, much like humans were subject to gravity whether or not they knew it existed.
Humans weren't bound to ghost Laws and ghosts weren't bound to human laws, but Danny, being a denizen of both worlds, had the neat ability to ignore pretty much any Law he felt like. Gravity, energy possession, thermodynamics, you name it. But when a half-ghost broke a Law it meant that the rest of the Laws didn't apply anymore.
The first time Danny'd broken a Law, the ghosts no longer needed to respect the territorial boundaries he'd set up around Amity Park. His backyard had possessed more ghosts in it than he'd thought existed. Although his parents had enjoyed the next few weeks, Danny hadn't. Those long days and nights were the stuff of nightmares.
After that fiasco, he'd gotten a copy of the Laws from Clockwork and read through a chunk of them. One of the Laws had said something about education, but Danny couldn't remember what it said. He eyed the strange ghost, figuring he'd have to trust her. "Tell me about this school, then," he said slowly.
Cinder brightened. "We learn the Laws and the rules set by the council."
"Is that it?"
"Yup!" She grinned at him again, showing her missing teeth. "You get to gragitate when you know them all."
Danny felt his eyebrow arch. He figured he had a pretty solid grasp on the Laws - it shouldn't take to long. "So… I could just go take the test and go home."
Her smile faded. "I s'pose," she said slowly, as if thinking that through. "Don't you wanna go to school?"
"No," he muttered. Danny glanced back over his shoulder again. Still no parents.
"But…" she looked confused. If there was really a Law driving her attendance at this ghost school (and thus Danny's), she wouldn't be able to contemplate not going. It was just something that she would do.
The real question was whether or not Danny wanted to go along with it. The last place he wanted to go on a Saturday was some freakish school – especially if it involved ghosts. However, breaking a Law was extremely far down on his list of priorities as well. He knew that going and taking this test was probably easier and safer in the long run.
Finally, he let out a long breath. He would have to go this school - at least until he figured out if this ghost was telling him the truth and his attendance was actually necessary. So much for the quiet weekend he'd had planned since Sam and Tucker were out of town. "Fine," he told the girl. "I'll go."
She floated up a few inches, her eyes shining with delight.
"But," he said, "I need to finish eating breakfast. Come back in an hour."
Delight gave way to bewilderment. "Waz an hour?" she asked.
Rather than try to explain the passage of time to a ghost – a child ghost at that – Danny pushed away from the doorjamb, walked over to the closet where his backpack was lying, and dug through it. Thermos in hand, he moved back over to the door, smiled down at the childish Ember-clone as she gazed curiously at the Thermos, and sucked her in.
He stared down at the steaming thermos, slightly annoyed that his morning was shot. He set it carefully back in the closet, away from his mother's cleaning fingers, and went back to finish his breakfast.
"Did you send them away?" Mom asked. A smear of grease had appeared on her nose.
Danny hummed a sort-of agreement. Nobody was standing at the front door anymore, anyways. He stuffed another mouthful of waffles into his mouth. They had started to get cold, which took most of the pleasure out of eating waffles. He paused mid-chew. The waffles had a slightly… strange… taste to them.
Taking his fork, he flipped over the waffle he was eating. There was a familiar burn mark on the back. Swallowing roughly, Danny shot a glance at his father. "Who shot my waffle?"
The man coughed and looked away.
That was when Danny noticed little syrupy footprints on the table. "Seriously?" he asked, setting down his fork and pushing the remaining waffles away. "Can you guys not make food that comes to life for once?"
"It's not technically alive," Mom put in, her voice distracted-sounding. "Just a collection of post-conscious energy needing an outlet. No more alive than a light bulb." The device on the table started to whine, lights flashing in distress.
"Besides, it wasn't the waffle," Dad cut in with a grin. "I fixed the waffle maker."
Danny's fork started to growl and make threatening little motions on the plate.
"It's the dishwasher I'm still working on," his father finished with a frown. An ectogun appeared in his had and he aimed it towards the eating utensil. "Watch out for the spoons, they're the worst."
"Right," Danny drawled, getting up and making sure he was well out of the path of his father's weapon. "I'm going…" he paused, not able to tell them he was considering attending some sort of ghost school, "out."
"Have fun," Mom said, never looking up from her device as it short-circuited in a wash of smoke. The fork stopped snarling.
Danny worked his way upstairs, go ready for the day, and then grabbed the Thermos out of the closet. Walking down the front steps and heading towards town, he eyed the silver cylinder. Was he really going to do this? Go to a ghost school?
Five white vans pulled in to a parking lot on to the other side of Amity Park one after another, circling like an old wagon train. Several bulky-looking men in white suits stepped out of the vans and scanned the area from behind large sunglasses. They were nearly indistinguishable from each other.
"It appears to be clear, sir," one of the men said into the cuff of his jacket.
On that cue, a slightly-thinner looking man stepped from the middle van. He straightened his white jacket and pulled the sunglasses down slightly to sweep his gaze over the city skyline. His bearing screamed 'I'm in charge' and he couldn't keep the contemptuous sneer off his face. "Amity Park," he said, sounding like he was swearing.
Another man, this one shorter and lanky, scooted from the van carrying a clipboard. "The Fentons are expecting us in about an hour," the man said. His voice was nasally.
The leader of the men in white jackets didn't answer. He just crossed his arms and stared towards the city.
"Um, Agent B?" the lanky man said after a minute of silence. "Did you hear-"
"Do you realize," Agent B said, cutting the man off, "how little I want to listen to you yammer?"
The man flushed and pulled at the sleeves of his white jacket.
"Amity Park. I have heard so much about you." Agent B reached into an inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small device that looked something like a smartphone. He poked the device a few times before finding the file he was looking for. A picture of the famous Amity Park spook glowed on the screen. "Agent Q," he snapped.
One of the men standing nearby shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, sir?"
"You were part of the team that was here several months ago?"
The man scowled. "Yes, sir," he muttered.
"Disappointing," Agent B said. His voice was dark, lending the word a threatening tone. "I will not accept failure again."
"Yes, sir," Agent Q said, chin up in the air and back stiff.
"Make it clear to your teams," Agent B said, raising his voice slightly so that all the men could hear him, "our stated goal is to interview the Fentons and ascertain the completion of the device. However, we will not be leaving this town without the ghost."
"Um, sir?" the lanky man said in a reedy tone, flinching even as he spoke. "Didn't Agent A tell us to leave that ghost alone?"
Agent B twisted around and within a heartbeat was standing toe-to-toe with the smaller agent. "Are you questioning me?" Spittle flew from his mouth and speckled the other man's face.
The man went white, shrinking down even more, his clipboard shaking as it was clutched to his chest.
"Agent X," Agent B sneered loudly enough to be heard a block away. "Can you get a lower designation?" For a second, there was no sound. Then the man laughed – a horrifying, slightly crazed sound, seeming to enjoy the trembling in his lanky underling. "Listen, Bug. I don't care what Agent A has to say. That ghost embarrassed our agency. Destroyed our reputation. And he will be brought to justice."
The lowly Agent X backed away, fingers white around his clipboard, and had to endure the weighted stares of the other agents.
Agent B pulled on his jacket, pulling it down over his bulky figure. "I want a sweep of the city before our meeting. If there's even a glimmer of ectoplasmic energy out there, I want it mapped and logged."
"Yes, sir!" the other agents said, turning to climb back into their vans.
The man watched the other four vans pull away and sneered, turning his gaze back to Amity Park. "He won't get away this time."
To be continued...