Author's Note: Well, I'm nervous. I'm not going to lie and say this story is awesome, I've got a ton of doubts about this. It's a weird premise and there's next to no dialouge in this chapter, which I know is a turn off for people, I'm not sure how long this story will be, and really I'm uncertain as to whether or not this is good enough to be posted. But this idea grabbed me and just wouldn't let go, no matter what. So as strange an idea as this is, I'm going to write it. Humanizing Dash and making him a well rounded character might be tricky, and I know I won't do this perfectly, but I need to tell this story.
As always, criticism, suggestions, ideas, comments, any feedback at all is absolutely appreciated. I've never posted a chaptered fic before, just one shots, and thus I need all the help I can get to become a better writer and do this the way it should be done. Thank you in advance for reading this opening chapter and giving this story a chance.
Dash Baxter was perfect.
He was blonde and blue eyed, tall, bulky, built like a brick wall, strong as an ox. He was never in detention or late for class, he never skipped, he never messed up. He always won the game and he always came through when people needed him. He practiced religiously and had never choked under pressure. His house was big and in a good neighborhood, his father ran a construction business and was a respectable, polite man everyone liked. His life was perfect. He had money, he had cool clothes, he had all the accessories the perfect cookie cutter American boy should have.
Dash's fist crashed into the locker, again and again, until the already defeated metal yielded and became nothing but jagged edges and dented, twisted lumps beneath him. He cut his hands on the next two hits and instead of stopping merely turned to slam his open palms on the surface of the storage room wall. The pain was sharp and immediate, an expression of all the hate and anger coursing through him, yet it wasn't enough. He needed more. He needed something to break, like he was breaking.
His father was going to kill him, but he didn't have to. Though he was sure to scream and rant at his son for being a complete failure, Dash was already pissed off at himself. He was already shaking with rage at just how stupid he was. A B plus? He didn't do that. He had to have perfect grades. He was supposed to maintain a high average, not just to get onto the team, not just to get his dad off his back, but to get into a good college. How did he expect to get anywhere if he was nothing more than a dumb jock? He was stupid and worthless and lazy and he clenched his fists in his hair hard enough to draw blood from his scalp, fingernails digging in, wanting to scream. If his grades slipped he'd end up seeing a school counselor and becoming a freak and an outcast, a loser, and he couldn't believe that he'd messed up like this after spending time being tutored in virtually every subject. He wanted to scream in frustration.
This was all because of those stupid ghost powers.
Everything was falling apart because of Danny Fenton. No, wait. Partial blame had to go to Mr. Enlai for making the two boys science partners. Then partial blame had to go to Fenton's dad for taking them down to his lab and rambling about science and ghosts. Part of the blame had to go to Danny for inviting Dash over to his house instead of just doing the assignment at Dash's place, but with Mr. Baxter's drinking it was too much a risk to let Danny come over. He had a reputation to maintain and an image to protect. He was supposed to be perfect and perfect people did not have family problems like this. Then again, someone perfect would've been smarter than to go inside the Ghost Portal and press the on button, even if it was to test out Mr. Fenton's new invention. It was supposed to be safe.
It really hadn't been. White hot agony so pure it left no room for thought or even screaming had poured through him as green light flooded everything. Thick green fog poured through the room, and Mr. Fenton had grabbed his son, pulling him upstairs. His first instinct was to protect his own child. Dash was left on the floor, then above it, floating uncontrollably, bobbing up and down as if being tugged by gentle waves. That was when he opened his eyes to assess the damage. The first thing he noticed was that his black leather jacket was now white. And he wasn't breathing. That was when the realization he was floating hit him.
His gelled back hair had been mussed out of perfection by the explosion. A strand of it he tugged and stared at, cross eyed, confirming his suspicion it was now a deep, dark blue, nearly black. His own hands startled him; he was so pale it was like all the hours he'd put into practice out in the sun had been undone. There was a dull glow in front of him and when he moved towards the source of light, he saw it was his own reflection in the mirror. His cornflower blue eyes were now bright gold. His sleek new black jeans were white, his brand name white sneakers black, his white T-shirt black. And that aura around him, it was... it was just unnatural. Horror set in, but before he could process the full insanity of what he'd become he heard footsteps upstairs. He couldn't very well hide; he was a bulky football player who was easily 6"5. So he had shut his eyes and prayed to whatever God was listening this wouldn't last, tried to envision who he really was, and there was a burst of light around him before he landed on the floor of the Fenton's lab. When he looked up, his reflection was normal. When Mrs. Fenton came down shouting his name and asking if he was okay, he was. Or at least he looked it. And hey, when was Dash Baxter ever uncertain of himself or shaken up? He was just so over Danny and his freaky family. That was why he left at a pace that was practically a run, it's not like he was freaked out or anything.
That was a month ago, and the ramifications of that day were still being felt. With all this insanity around him, he couldn't focus on his studies or the team or his dad properly, and it was beginning to show. Running to duck into rooms or behind things wasn't an easy task for a star football player; all eyes were on him. Keeping this secret under wraps was an everyday uphill battle, especially when utterly insane things kept happening. He'd gone intangible and walked through a shut door once, fallen through the stairs to the ground below, and caught himself hovering in his room on more than one occasion.
He had to work out, he had practice, he had to clean the house, he had to work on his GPA for the sake of his future, he had to find tutors for his classes, he had to deal with Paulina's constant mixed signals and trying to make time to hang out with Kwan. He had no room in his life for superpowers. Had he a choice he'd hand them off gladly. But they were only getting stronger with time, so he had to tackle them head on like he did all his problems. Late at night, when his dad was passed out or asleep, he'd sneak out and go walk to some quiet alley and practice... whatever this was. Flying was most important because there was no way he could explain that away if it happened accidentally in front of people. Luckily, a lifetime of football had taught him to swallow fear and press on; as far below as things looked, it wasn't hard, it just took time to master. The intangibility was turning out to be nearly impossible for him to control so far, and then there were the energy blasts. Golden and flaring, shifting like flames, the blasts were easy to throw, much, much harder to aim. Even years of football throws hadn't prepared him for this level of force.
Dash slammed his hand against the wall again to bring himself back to the present, to his unacceptable grade, the incredible load of crap he was going to get for it (especially if his father wasn't sober today when Dash got home), and how stupid he was for slipping up.
And he still had to go fake his way through lunch, now with rage induced wounds on his hands he'd have to explain. He had to play it cool and make small talk and get through another day and every class period was starting to feel like a crucible of uncertainty. Maybe if he were someone lower profile he could skip it, but he was Dash Baxter, and his team mates would notice if he vanished even for a few hours. He sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair, and then wondered if things could get any worse. Unfortunately, that sentence has never proceeded anything but trouble. No one got to think that and then have a nice day. Within mere seconds of that thought, screams erupted from the cafeteria, and he ran to the door, wrenching it open. What he saw next was the perfect blend of surreal, stupid and horrifying that made him regret being born in Amity Park.
Ghostly meat was flooding the hallways, chasing students and sending them fleeing down every available exit. You'll forgive Dash for taking a moment to process that. For a fleeting moment he wondered if this was what doing drugs was like. Then he heard a familiar voice in the crowd; Paulina's friend Star was screaming. And he didn't even think, he just ran down the rapidly emptying hallway towards the cafeteria, following the voice. When he entered the cafeteria it was totally empty save a raging green ghost. Star's scream had been cut off when a stack of plates had slammed into her head. At the sight of her laying motionless on the floor, rage, Dash's ever constant companion, came back to him full force and he scowled at the ghostly woman, too angry to be afraid.
Rings of light appeared around him, and then he was leaping at her, knocking her off her feet with the impulsive suddenness of his actions. The next thing he knew half the school's meatloaf supply was pinning him to the wall and she was smiling serenely at him.
"What a handsome young man," she said demurely. "Would you like a cookie?"
Having no witty retort for someone whose mood swings outdid even his father's, Dash could only shake his head.
"Oh. Well then I will stuff you full of food until your throat bursts!" she screamed, back into full rage mode.
It was only the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Fenton that saved him. In the second she turned to be distracted by Jack Fenton's pun filled one liner, Dash phased through the meat, braced his legs against the wall and fired off a blast of golden ghostfire so magnificent it was nearly blinding. The cafeteria ghost lady screamed, collapsing just as Dash did. Light headed and suddenly very overheated, he stumbled backwards, phasing through the wall, and floated, intangible and flickering in and out of visibility, until he got out into the sunlight. There he collapsed behind the school on the soft grass, where he laid for an agonizingly long twelve and a half minutes as his head spun and his heartbeat filled his head. The glowing rings appeared again, and when he pulled himself to his feet his clothes were normal, which in his limited experience meant he himself was now normal. As normal as anything got anymore. The world of sunlight and daytime seemed foreign to him, as if he were stuck in some prolonged and complex dream he just couldn't escape. This crap belonged in a comic book, not in his life.
Walking the endlessly long distance to the front of the school where everyone had gathered, he was immediately sought out by Kwan, who looked relieved. "Where were you, man? We thought you were still in there or something!"
"Back door, genius," he snarked, trying to keep his tone normal when normal had just been shattered into a thousand pieces. "Just had to find a way around. I'm fine. Where's Paulina? And Star?" Dash struggled to keep his voice casual. The image of her unconscious body still made him shudder.
"It's so cool, bro! That Goth chick from our Bio class was hiding under one of the tables, and she carried Star out. Those ghost experts were too busy with the ghost, I guess."
Dash felt his blood run cold. He turned, and looked for the black clad girl. Next to the ambulance that had pulled up, she wasn't hard to find, talking to the paramedics to briefly explain what happened as Star was loaded up. Paulina opted to ride in the ambulance with her best friend, and as they pulled away, sirens still blaring, the Goth girl turned. Her black hair was lightly tousled by the wind, but her cold violet eyes were piercing, and she looked directly at him as Kwan, oblivious as always, went to go find another one of his friends in the crowd. The two were left staring at each other, a fifty foot gap between them, and he knew she knew what he was. She hated the popular kids. She could ruin him.
Instead she smiled reassuringly at him, and made a gesture towards the empty football field. She wanted to talk. She didn't hate him, or the freak he was, or how he'd messed up and now his grades were a footnote compared to how he'd failed to save Star in time. She didn't hate him, and that made one of them. Because after all the screw ups of today, he couldn't imagine why she didn't reveal him on the spot. But he was too relieved to question it as the rage and adrenaline had by now long left him, leaving him exhausted and barely keeping his perfect 'I don't care because I'm awesome' mask in place.
And if his knees shook weakly as he walked to meet her, that was just because today was weird, not because he'd been scared for a second there.
Dash Baxter didn't have fears. He was perfect.