A.N: Hello everybody! Welcome to one of my brand-new fic series for Danny Phantom! I haven't written for Danny Phantom in a loooonggggg time. All I do is creep it on Tumblr, read fanfics about it, watch it on repeat from my DVD complete series copy, make ships and new villains for it, but I never actually got around to uploading any new fanfics on it. Tragic. I know.
I'm so excited to share this side with you! Because ever since I became a part of this fandom back when DP first aired, I loved the idea of Sam having or obtaining ghost powers or becoming a halfa herself, and in fact it wasn't until recently I was creeping around Tumblr that everyone's love of the au trio made me show my love for it too. So, this is my take and idea on Sam being the half ghost.
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The Ersatz Ghost Girl
Chapter 1 - That ghost thing you do
...
The night before, she dozed off around six and slept for hours. She dreamed spiders has swarmed all over her. Running across her face and body, never biting, merely scurrying. Finally, there came a time where there were so many spiders, she was lost in a sea of black bodies.
None could identify her. Webs littered her face, her eyelids, her lashes. Webs lay strewn from her clothes and her limbs.
She was a living corpse.
The dream was intense. Harsh. Nothing like it had ever happened in her sleep before. Even daydreams tended to linger away from the creepy side of things. The dream stuck in her mind for weeks. Consuming her and reminding her day by day, that she was paralyzed. Dead.
Which, ironically, was the theme of tonight's adventure.
She had called up Tucker to meet her in the graveyard by ten, just in case the groundskeeper was still meandering about before his break, but he was nowhere to be seen and she was alone.
Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest, clutching her flashlight and darting her eyes back and forth over the gravestones.
It was one thing to be here during the day and a whole completely other thing to be here at night. By herself. Where anything-
"Sam" a hand grabbed her shoulder and she released a scream that should have shook the dead out of their slumber.
Sam jumped five feet and flattened to the earth before a grave that read "Martha" – 'always missed, never far'.
Wiping dirt from her new boots, she glowered as Tucker slapped his knee and guffawed at her moment of weakness.
The tech obsessed boy wiped at imaginary tears as he calmed himself, his own arms full of cell phones and other devices Sam couldn't, and really didn't want to, recognize.
Sometimes she couldn't remember how their relationship had lasted so many years, other than their love of Nasty Burger, they truly had little in common. Yet here they were again, in a cemetery, ready to finish what they started.
"Have you been waiting long?" Tucker set his supplies down, grabbing his glasses and wiping some dust off with the edge of his bright yellow shirt.
Sam shook her head, opening her new backpack to retrieve her water bottle and gulp down a mouthful. After the nightmare, she had shoved her purple spider bag far back into her closet, and opted for a regular, black bag instead. Just for a little while. Just until her heart stopped racing as she slept in her bed. Webs littering her blanket.
"Just twenty minutes, nothing crucial. You have everything?"
Tucker nodded to his supplies, grabbing his pencil case from his bag, sorting out some small brushes and shading utensils.
"Everything." He affirmed, "and can we please be quick this time, I don't want to spend too long out here." The dark-haired boy shuddered, "with dead people."
Sam smirked, "you're the one who wanted to draw the headers for the art project, you're not backing out on me now are you? We'll both get an 'F' otherwise."
"I didn't think it'd take this long" Tucker murmured, "I had to back out of mom's meatloaf leftovers just to make it out here on time."
Sam rolled her eyes, "how will you ever survive?"
"Right?!"
Sam ignored him in favor of grabbing her pencil and sketch pad, looking back at the gravestone she had face planted next to. This one was a bit too plain for her liking and she moved to the next one.
A twig snapped loudly.
Tucker froze and turned about, heart racing as he looked for the cause.
Nothing. Silence.
"S-s-Sam" Tucker stuttered, heart pounding and hands shaking a bit as he looked around the dead silence of the cemetery. He clutched his PDA to his chest as Sam looked back.
"What Tuck? I'm not doing all the work, come on its late, get going."
Tucker's mouth dropped as he stared at the eyes peeking from behind Sam's head.
"S-s-Sam" he managed again, "b-b-behi-"
Sam turned just in time to shriek as a figure stepped out and grabbed her shoulders.
"What are you doing here" it snarled, "how did you get past the gate?"
Sam gaped as Tucker freaked behind her, he ran forward, kicked the figure as hard as he could, and grabbed Sam's arm and tugged on her.
"COME ON! LET'S GO SAM!" Tucker yanked frantically as the girl stood frozen in terror.
Finally, Tucker pulled her back and they started off in a dead run, the figure chasing them, running, always close, the breathing harsh and brutal.
"My stuff!" Sam screamed, "the project Tucker!"
"Forget it!" Tucker yelled, sweating and panting and regretting the milkshake he had had for breakfast, "it's our lives or a stupid art grade!"
Their feet pounded the ground, but as they spied the graves large iron gate they saw the lock. Chained multiple times and fastened shut.
Tucker screamed in outrage, "this wasn't here before! What do we do?!"
Sam turned back at the crunching sounds, gasps hitting her at the sound of the creature closing in.
"We'll have to climb it!" Sam locked her fingers and crouched on the ground, gesturing to Tucker to step in so she could hoist him over.
"Hurry!" As the footsteps grew louder behind them.
Adrenaline had Tucker step on her intertwined hands. Sam hefted once, and regretted her stance instantly as she pulled a muscle in her back. Tucker grasped for the top of the gate, and hefted himself over, sitting properly he made to lean over and reach his hand out back to Sam.
Sam groaned in pain as she rested on the ground, "you are never eating pizza ever again."
"Come on Sam!" Tucker shouted as he wriggled his fingers at her.
Sam tried to stand but her back locked in protest, and before she could jump or do anything, the figure was upon her, grabbing her shoulders and making her release a high-pitched scream.
You're not allowed in here" the figure bellowed, "let them sleep" he snarled again, shaking Sam aggressively.
Sam screamed again, but suddenly Tucker was grasping her shirt and pulling her up, embarrassingly enough flashing her lacy black sports bra, but before she could cover herself the two fell over the other side of the gate, and Tucker had them on a dead set run once more.
"ROTTEN KIDS! LET THEM SLEEP, DON'T BE HERE, DON'T DISTURB THE DEAD!"
The screams followed them as the two teens ran off, yelling and gasping themselves.
"YOU'RE NOT DEAD YET, DON'T DISTURB THE DEAD!"
Tucker and Sam didn't look back once, and the graveyard slowly faded out of sight, until it was nothing but a dot, and still the kids kept running.
Running, running, running.
.
.
Sam dropped onto the steps of Tucker's house, her body quaking with the force of her moments. She panted, coated in a fine sheet of sweat, her hair in tangles.
Tucker wasn't faring much better as he collapsed beside her, eyes ever present on the street where they came running from.
Nothing made a peep over the two teens exhaustion, their hearts racing and gasps for breath the only sounds in the dead of the night.
"Tha- what" Tucker gasped, his hands clenching the stone steps to his front door.
Sam rubbed at the tender spot in her back, eyes slightly clenched with fatigue and pain.
"What was that?!" Tucker questioned.
"Your guess" Sam panted, "is as good as mine."
They stayed there for another half hour, making sure nothing had followed them, Sam's body protesting even the thought of getting up.
Finally, she knew she couldn't sit any longer, her grandmother would be wondering where she was and what was happening. Ida always stayed up longer when Sam was out. Tucker also had to get in the house at some point, his makeshift body pillow and voice recording snores would only fool for so long.
Tucker was willing to walk Sam home but Sam denied the idea. She was fine. Really.
They bid each other goodnight and only as she was walking off did Sam remember with a light groan that all their supplies and stuff were strewn about the graveyard.
There was no way she was going back tonight, she thought, as she walked up her house steps, maybe when daylight broke out tomorrow. Maybe.
Grandma had fallen asleep was the first thing Sam noticed as she stepped quietly into the dark house. Only a small reading lamp had been lit, illuminating Ida's face, peaceful in its sleeping position.
Sam folded out a blanket over her Grandma and kissed the top of her hair. Ida didn't make a peep so Sam crept up the stairs to her bedroom. She passed her parents room as slowly as humanly possible, letting the door creak open, taking a moment to wince, but when no repercussion followed she slid into her darkened bedroom and flicked the light switch on.
The room took a moment to come to full brightness and when it did, Sam made for her vanity.
It was covered in decor and small bobbles, a signed photo of Nine Inch Nails greeted her and she dropped in her seat.
Sam's entire face flushed as she realized her shirt had never gone down all the way after the whole graveyard fiasco. Her black lacy sports bra peeked back at her and she frowned as she peeled her shirt off.
There was a bruise on her right side forming from where she hit the ground.
Tucker hadn't said anything, but he was probably saving her face.
Her small chest stared back at her. Her skin pale and tight. She brushed the tangles out of her hair with as little movement as possible, setting her comb down to take her bra off along with her pants. Slipping on her favorite purple nightgown, she removed her makeup and slid into her queen-sized bed, pulling the covers over her head.
Her harsh breathing filled the room, moving the blanket up and down, and Sam closed her eyes as her back twitched painfully with every breath. She was never lifting Tucker for any purpose, ever again. This might need some massage therapy at the least.
She reopened her eyes and stared up at the transparency of her blanket, remembering she hadn't turned the light off, but soon exhaustion and the intensity of the night caught up with her, and she let her eyes close, and soon sleep entrapped her, and she didn't wake again until morning.
.
.
It had been a good couple of weeks since Sam had had as restful a sleep as this one. She awoke to birds chirping, but no sun, as her heavy duty black curtains kept her room nice and dark.
Her eyes cracked open and for once she realized she hadn't thought at all of the crazy dream she had the night before. It was a bit unnerving, but welcoming at the very least.
Sam ripped the blanket from her body and stretched, bones popping, muscles groaning in protest, her back pinched and she collapsed in a fit of pain. Her toes dug into the comforter and she took time to writhe as she clutched at her pillows.
Thankfully, the spasm paused, and Sam noted to never stretch that way again until she fixed her back issue.
From outside her door, she could hear the radio on, her mother probably up and cooking breakfast, her father most likely in his study. The two were early risers no matter the occasion. They didn't believe in sleeping in, and whenever Sam or her grandmother tried to sleep in, they bustled into the room, ripping the curtains open and shrieking about sunshine.
The dresser was left open, and Sam picked out her undergarments for the day. A purple set with tiny lavender bows in the middle of each. She brushed out her hair, pinning it into her trademark half pony, and moved to her closet for her outfit.
The door was firmly shut, just like she left it, and when she creaked it open, her eyes spotted one of the legs of her spider backpack staring at her. She shuddered, ripping out a t-shirt, hoodie and a pair of black pants before shutting the door and moving back to her bed.
After she got dressed, Sam settled some mascara to her eyes and swiped purple lipstick to her lips, rubbing them together to set it in before she went to get her bag.
Realization soon dawned that she had left the new one at the gravesite. A $50 bag laid out in the dirt of a bunch of dead guys. Great. What a week.
Clamoring down the stairs, she slipped on her house slippers and made her way into the kitchen. Ida was relaxing at the table, enjoying breakfast and chatting to Sam's father.
Her father had his head buried in the morning newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in his hand and his usual sweater vest combo in bright pastels burning her retinas. Sam sat across from him as her mother skipped joyfully into the room.
"Isn't it a beautiful day?!" She cooed, moving stray red hair curls back into place, setting a glass of orange juice before Sam.
She would kill for a cup of dad's coffee right now.
"It sure is" Thurston acknowledged, sipping at his cup and turning the page of his paper, "bea-u-ti -ful" he spelled out.
"A day like this" Sam's mother continued, "should consist of pretty colors, like a nice sundress or a cute overall ensemble."
Sam's fingers twitched as she loaded a nearby bowl with cereal, dousing it with soy milk.
"It should" Thurston agreed, "you're a hundred percent correct dear" he turned his eyes to Sam expectantly, "don't you think Samantha?"
"It's Sam" she stated through a mouthful of cereal, spewing a bit of milk onto the counter. Her father grimaced and honestly it served him right.
"I also feel like it's a bit chilly" Sam smirked, "perfect weather for a hoodie combo."
She downed more cereal as her grandmother waggled a threatening finger at her son.
"Leave her alone boy, Sammy can dress however she wants, isn't that right Bubala?"
Sam leaned over to kiss her grandmother's cheek, beaming at her acceptance.
"Thanks grandma."
Thurston frowned, his wife stepping behind him with hands cocked on her hips.
"Mother-" he started.
"Don't you 'mother' me boy" Ida speared a bite of cooked sausage, "you heard me."
"You know Sammykins" Pamela began, ignoring her daughter's death glare, "you know who dresses so well, Paulina," she flourished the name with an exaggerated hand gesture and smiled wistfully.
"Agreed" Thurston nodded.
"Those cute pink crop tops, fetching capris, goodness she wears her hair long" Pamela smiled, she snatched her husband's coffee and sipped dreamily.
"Isn't she dating that Fuentes boy?" Ida rolled her eyes, "and you know, failed last semester, as Sammy put it."
"Fenton. Grandma." Sam confirmed, "his name is Danny Fenton."
"Fenton" Sam's mother's eyes widened, ignoring her mother-in-law as she usually tried to, "as in the son of those two crazy rich, ghost-hunting weirdos?!" She clapped her hands in excitement.
"Wait who?" Thurston questioned, looking up at his wife, "never heard of them."
"Yes, you have dear!" Pamela clapped her hands again, "they never come to our barbecues or social parties or any normal gathering whatsoever. They ignore all our invitations and they created the trademark ghost weapons that they sell to the GIW! They're heroes and filthy rich!" She cooed with delight as she sprung around the room.
Sam gaped at her mother's antics, cereal spoon halfway to her lips, eyes wide with confusion.
"Sammy, you didn't tell me you knew their son?!"
"I don't." Sam halted the dancing around, "Danny is an A-lister, so is Paulina, she's curvy, foreign and popular, so she's dating Danny, the whole school knows. Not just me. I can't stand either of them, we've never even talked to each other."
"You must." Pamela demanded. "Just knowing an elite can't do much for you, let him know your alive silly girl" her mother berated.
She flipped her hair and clapped her hands like a seal for about the twelfth time when the wall clock chimed. Pamela startled, acknowledging the time and dashing around to collect her things.
"Oh no! I'm about to be late to being fashionably late!" She ran around the room snatching her things. "We'll talk more about how to get boys to notice you when you get home from school."
"No. We won't." Sam ended, but her mother didn't hear a word, she kissed Thurston's cheek, earning a small smile in return from her husband, waved goodbye to her mother-in-law, and dashed for the door.
"Mom wait!" Sam cried, following her to the door where Pamela was trying to shove her feet into dainty high heels. The color of coral. Retch.
"What is it Sammykins I have to go."
"Sam. My name is Sam" Sam declared, ignoring her mother's eye roll.
"I can't find my backpack. Do you have anything I can borrow to put my stuff in for the day? I'll go looking for it after school."
Pamela blinked at her, before smiling. "I have just the thing!"
.
.
Sam couldn't remember a time she regretted something more than she did now.
The bag her mother found her was not really a 'bag' at all. It was an over the shoulder beach bag look alike. It was bright yellow, with hideous dark pink flowers strewn all over it. It buckled in the center, and made Sam look like she didn't know what a color scheme really was.
Her mother blew her a kiss, darted to the pickup limousine driver (because she didn't want to walk the two blocks to the neighbor's house for tea), and sped off, leaving Sam standing in her wake, engine fumes trailing behind them.
"I can't wait to get this day over with" Sam muttered, pushing the bag up, and starting her walk to school.
There were five blocks to Tucker's house where she'd meet her best friend outside as usual, ready for the bags ridicule in her head, and then another eight for them to walk together to school.
She kept a steady pace as she walked, when suddenly the obnoxious sound of an environmental nightmare roared through her head.
She halted to a stop, turning to witness a sight she really never had wanted to witness in the first place.
Mind you, Danny James Fenton is gorgeous. The sixteen-year-old had baby blue eyes, ebony dark hair and this stupid crooked smile that seriously got on Sam's nerves on a good day. When he got nervous or embarrassed he did this stupid thing where he rubbed the back of his neck, and if she didn't despise the air he breathed, Sam might even say it was charming.
He roared beside her on a contraption that had to be a motorcycle, but it was the most pimped out motorcycle she had ever seen. It had the basic structure of a motorcycle, but it was silver and green, with headlights the color of moss. The name 'Fenton' was logoed on the side, it looked like it had a killer engine. The thing was a two-seater too. Barf.
Danny kicked the bike stand down and whipped his sunglasses off, his eyes taking Sam in in a way that made her want to cover herself and crawl in a deep hole.
"Can I help you?" She sneered, using a brave tone to help stop the nervous shakes her vocal cords really wanted to do.
Danny smirked. One of those annoying, 'I'm way better than you and you and I know it,' smirks.
"Hey goth freak" he leered back, "nice bag, your mommy get that for you?"
Sam felt her hand clench around the strap, the urge to slap him with it growing stronger every second he inhaled.
"Yes actually," she bit back, "she managed to get it from your dad's closet."
Danny's eyes narrowed, "the fuck you say?"
Sam knew she shouldn't have but she was starting to feel that kick of adrenaline again and her foot in mouth syndrome kicked in.
"You heard me jock head, and watch your mouth."
The dark-hair boy turned his gas guzzler off and hopped onto the curb, looming over Sam and causing her to take a step back.
Right In her face, he grinned, "I could watch my mouth" he ran his finger down her arm, and a chill rushed through her "or" he paused with a wicked smile, "you could watch it for me."
He grabbed the bag off her shoulder, dumped the contents onto the ground, and chucked the bag into a puddle next to the curb.
Without hesitation, he jumped back onto his bike, turned it on, revved his engine, and as he sped off, shouted over his shoulder, "later goth freak!"
Sam screamed in rage, running after the bike, "you meat-headed idiot! You jock wearing jerk-face!"
She stopped, red faced and panting. Danny's laughter was all that was left in his wake as he sped off to school.
Sam was prone to lying to her parents.
What teenager hadn't in any case?
When she said she didn't know Danny she was doing it again. The boy tormented her more often than Paulina and her posy did. All because of her goth...iness.
Ever since they first met in sixth grade, and she had slammed into him, spilling her pudding cup all over his new shirt, he had been out to get her and exact a good five years of revenge. Guy didn't let go of grudges easily enough that's for sure.
She couldn't tell her parents, even though they thought her a disgrace for her choices, if her dad knew a boy was out to get her, he'd been on him in a heartbeat, and that would only worsen her case.
No thanks, she got enough of it on a daily basis.
Grabbing at her scattered things, she picked up her slightly soaked bag. It looked like just the bottom of it had taken the wetness, and she couldn't help not feeling saddened about that since she was planning to ruin it later herself if her mom forced her to keep it.
The downside of the whole thing, was that her gym clothes had gotten dirty hitting the ground, and her term paper was EVERYWHERE.
Great, another explanation to Lancer about why he kept receiving gross hand ins from just Manson herself.
Sam took off again in the direction that knuckle-headed jerk had, and wished for once, spiders had truly consumed her, and a hole of them would just open up, and let her slip to the bottom.
.
.
"Niceeeee" Tucker mused, stepping out of his front door, bag over his shoulder and an amused look on his face at the sight of Sam and her soaked flowery eyesore.
"Not a word" she growled out, clutching the monstrosity to her chest.
Tucker chuckled, "not one I swear" he took Sam's things from her and placed them in his own bag and let her carry the dripping mess on her own as they took off to school.
"Trouble with Fenton again I'm assuming?"
"One pudding cup, just one, and he can't let it go" she growled, "why is he so angry all the time?"
They synced their walk and Tucker laid a finger to his chin in thought, "it's probably the whole social thing. I mean, son of two geniuses, super crazy rich, athletic star, A-lister, guy probably keeps an agenda of some kind just to get through the day."
"Not to mention dealing with an air-headed Latina 24/7" Sam muttered.
"Which reminds me!" Tucker cried excitedly, "Paulina gave me an invitation to her upcoming pool party for doing her algebra homework" he ignored Sam's look "I know, I know, but this could be our ticket!"
"I don't want a ticket" Sam stated, "I don't need to be invited to some stupid party to feel special. I'm okay with the just the two of us, hanging in cemetery's, being outcasts together. Besides it's September, it's too cold for a pool party anyway. Plus. I'm not going."
Tucker looked down at the ground, making sure Sam couldn't see his disappointment. "Right, speaking of which, should we talk about last night? Did you sleep ok, I mean I was tossing all night, what was that thing?"
They made it to the school with five minutes to spare and Sam went to grab her stuff from his bag, "I slept fine" she replied, "better than I have in weeks, I'm sorry you didn't, but I'd rather not talk about that ordeal. Come on, English first."
Tucker nodded as he followed after her, "maybe I wanted to talk about it" he muttered, but Sam was too far ahead to hear him.
.
.
"I have exciting news everybody!" Mr. Lancer was Casper High's resident English teacher, who occasionally taught History when Miss Levi was sick. Which was a lot. So, they saw Lancer more times than they tended to see their own parents.
"This is Agent K" Lancer pointed to a tall Caucasian bald man with a device in his ear and a scowl on his face, "and this is Agent O" Lancer pointed beside K to an African American man with a device in his ear and an even bigger scowl, if that was even possible.
"They are two of the top agents at the Guys in White facility. As most of you know, the G.I.W. keep Amity Park, safe! From any and all spectral anomalies, including the Bermuda Triangle."
"The Bermuda Triangle isn't a ghostly anomaly" Nathan, the red-haired band geek piped up from the back, and both Agents burned him with their eyes, "my dad says it's just weather patterns and natural causes like landmarks that cause ships to go down."
Agent O glared him down until Nathan sunk in his seat, "is your dad a part of the G.I.W and has this knowledge from factual data banks?"
"Um...no, he's the weather man on Channel 8"
"Nobody watches that channel." Agent K stated. "Today you'll be learning about ghosts and spectral anomalies. Thanks to Agents R and M at the G.I.W headquarters facility. They've prepared a tour to teach you kids what we do and how we do it."
Agent O smirked, "if you didn't believe in ghosts before today, you'll be a believer now."
Lancer went on to explain how the groups were set up and a went into a bit more detail, before he started calling out team names for the buses.
Sam sat in her desk, looking the agents over cautiously, her mind in a jumble. Ghosts? Like the old cartoon TV show people tended to assume Casper High was named after? Or like whatever had chased her and Tucker down last night, in the seemingly empty cemetery. Either way, a bad, unexplainable feeling crept over her, like the chill Danny had given her, like the fear instilled after the creature chased them down, something didn't feel right. What was it that had her on her toes?
"Manson" Sam was woken from her thinking, Lancer pointing to her and then Tucker, and then, lo and behold, Danny Fenton, leaning casually in his seat, barely paying any attention to the task at hand.
When your dad donates thousands to the school every year, Sam supposed, you could slack as much as you wanted.
"You'll be a team on the third bus as well" and then, Lancer pointed to the next, but Sam tuned him out to glance at Danny.
He was chewing on his pencil, twirling it between his lips, when he looked up and caught Sam staring at his mouth, he gave a wicked grin and flicked his tongue out at the eraser.
Sam's face went beet red and she whipped back in her seat to gather her things, pop them in Tucker's backpack and follow him and the rest of the class to the prescheduled buses waiting outside.
What a jerk.
.
.
"Welcome everyone, to the Guys in White headquarters of Amity Park. In every state of America, there is an exact location, with an exact structure, standing tall and proud. This however, is our main data bank holder, base and home to our finest agents, as Amity Park is the world largest ghost capital."
Agent R pressed a button on a small hand held remote and the projector slide turned to a comically drawn, green cartoon ghost, mouth open with what had to be a scream, the large printed 'THE END' finishing off the small presentation.
Agent M stepped forward and gestured everyone to follow, the kids' groups splitting off per designated tour agent.
"Why did everyone get one agent, and we're stuck with the bald twins" Tucker whispered to Sam, his hand bent to cover his mouth. Agent K and O paused their steps, making Tucker bump into Agent O, Danny into Tucker and Sam, straight into Danny. Her chest pressed against his back, arms coming up to help herself.
"Sorry" she muttered, as Danny raised an eyebrow at her, a small smirk on his lips, "for what? I didn't feel anything."
Sam's face turned red with anger, ready to tell him off, only to notice Tucker gaping at Agent O as he loomed over the smaller boy.
"Do you have a problem with us? We'd be happy to rectify any issues."
The way his tone went, had even Danny frowning, Sam behind him glaring at the agents.
"There's no problem" she answered for Tucker, who appeared too scared to speak, "we'd be happy for tour guides. Someone could get lost in here."
Her voice echoed off the large walls and the two agents stepped back.
"That would be unfortunate." Agent K stated, before turning away and matching strides with his partner, leading the trio down tunnels, through finger-printing door, eye scans, and a weird voice activated mechanism that allowed them entry to a large room with many beakers, tubes and something containing a creepy looking green slime.
"This is ectoplasm" Agent O said. He picked up the beaker and turned it left and right.
"Ectoplasm makes up the core of a ghost. Without one, they're doomed to fall apart. Here we have a sample of said ghost."
The teens looked in, and hauntingly enough, it felt like a pair of eyes looked back.
Sam stepped back and swallowed a lump in her throat, the same, unfamiliar, creepy feeling upon her.
"How did you get that sample?" Danny's voice made everyone jump. The room had become deathly quiet. "I don't believe my parents gave you a machine that could do that." He crossed his arms expectantly and stared the two grown men down. "You guys been experimenting without them?"
Agent K gave a smile that gave Sam a chill through her spine. Like a predator scoping out his meal.
"Nothing like that. We just had an experiment that didn't cooperate. Now that experiment is a sample." The man grinned again and then shooed them towards the very back of the room.
A chamber, resembling an escape pod was fastened into the wall. It had blinking green and yellow lights. A small window to see inside and out, and a latch, with titanium bolts to keep whatever was inside, inside. Agent O pressed a button on the side of the chamber and it lit up like a Christmas tree. A mechanized whirring noise filled the room, and then a small beep, and then the latch unhinged, and the door swung open.
The chamber let out a hiss of steam, and then it was silent.
Agent O flicked a switch and the chamber turned off and began to cool.
"You can look if you want" the agent confirmed, as Sam stepped around Danny and Tucker and started to peer at the chamber, "it's a work in progress, so we'll try to keep this quick, there's nothing exciting happening at the moment, but as soon as it's done, it's main task is to create ghosts."
The kids looked up questioningly.
Tucker finally piped up, "you're going to make a ghost?! Doesn't that technically require...a dead person?"
"Not this time" Agent K replied, checking his white suit for any dirt or other such nonsense the G.I.W worried about on a regular basis.
"With this machine, we are going to stabilize and create a ghost core. From scratch. No killing required, and if that takes hours and hours of grueling work, so be it."
The two agents turned their back and stepped away to converse a bit on progress, which gave Sam the time to notice that the machine was humming, even though it wasn't supposed to be on. It was giving off a slight buzzing noise and then some kind of metallic click. She moved closer as Tucker chatted to Danny and Danny ignored them both in favor of staring down the G.I.W and their private conversation.
Neither boy noticed Sam creep closer to the machine, her hand lingering on the outside. She stepped her foot in, murmuring something, and then she tripped over a cable on the floor of the inside, her hand pressed a button, and the chamber door snapped shut.
From the inside, the machine had begun to spring to life, but without being properly turned on, it jolted out electricity. Then the door latch clicked locked again, and Sam was trapped inside.
The chamber steamed and all that could be heard was her screams as she was electrocuted alive. Energy and physical power coursing through her, watts and watts of violent electricity. She screamed again and again, pain coursing through her, nerves frying, her skin burning with the force.
Agent K was yelling something, slamming buttons and trying to make the chamber reopen. Danny was shouting, his arms waving frantically.
Who would have known he cared?
Tucker was almost screaming louder than she was, desperate yells for the men to open the chamber door.
She was being cooked alive.
That was the sensation. The feeling was death, consuming her, like spiders running over her and climbing into her mouth. Like landing in a lake and not being able to breathe as you slowly fell to the bottom. It was her soul leaving her body. It was back again and it just kept leaving and entering.
The electricity was killing her. She was dying.
Just as suddenly it was over, and she was falling, body slumping down the wall, her sweaty hand slapped the window as she went down. Streaks littered the once clean glass, her body hit the floor, and she passed out.
There was nothing more. Darkness.