Danny rushed downstairs for his first workout, passing the dining room table conquered by ecto-weaponry parts.

"Danno! Look at this, the new Fenton Crammer; it shrinks a ghost down to harmless size." Well shrinking didn't sound so bad. "And strips all its powers away!"

Of course.

His father hefted a completed Fenton bazooka type gun, a sight more worrying than knowing Dash was going to be here any minute to kick his ass in The Name of Training. Having his ass kicked in The Name of Training had been useful, especially in the early days when his powers acted up. While good and useful things could come from his father's inventions—see Fenton Thermos—Danny put money on 'horrific catastrophe.'

"Great dad, but why call it a crammer?"

"Can't have the ghosts knowing exactly what our weapons do just from the names," his father explained. "Hey, why don't you come over and help me test this baby out?"

Ding-dong.

For a moment Danny stood motionless with indecision, trapped between two potential hells. The bell heralded the arrival of his bully; his dad wanted him to test out something that might, at best, work exactly as advertized. Two things he dreaded; a way to put one off. Rock and hard place; which to choose.

"I've been trying to get this baby to rip a ghost apart molecule by molecule with one shot. Now that would save some time."

Decision made. "That sounds great dad but I need to train with Dash for gym. See you later!" Danny all but flung himself out the door—

—And smacked straight into Dash, who grinned at him like a serial killer discovering new neighbors moving in.

"Well Fenturd it looks like you're lacking a bit of incentive to get into shape," Dash said.

Danny picked himself up, biting back a comment about having plenty of motivation; it was the needed time that escaped him.

"Run." And the bully tackled Danny, who managed to leap off his staircase just in time and hit the ground sprinting.

As he ran top-speed, Danny mind did the same; the backyard was a jungle of trashed ghost hunting tech overgrown by every invasive weed in Amity. Familiar to him from countless games of hide and seek with Sam and Tucker—he felt the tiniest pang of longing for those bygone, carefree days—but unfamiliar to his unwitting opponent. Even without ghost powers, losing Dash for the rest of the day would be no problem.

A shiver wracked his lungs, slipping up his throat; Danny wasted no time leaping behind the first bush he found to activate the transformation. Turning invisible just as icy breath escaped his lips, Danny narrowly avoided Dash, who sprinted into the backyard.

"Where did you go Fenturd? Come out. Hiding isn't exercise. Tetslaff will keep you in her class until you're sixty at this rate!"

"What unsuitable prey, standing out in the open bellowing as though you wanted to die." A ghost appeared, enormous and muscular, glaring at Dash. "Luckily for you human, you shall have the honor of being my bait."

"Being bait is for punies! I don't do puny!"

"Leave him alone!" Phantom appeared out of nowhere, protecting Dash with an ecto-shield and shooting an ecto-blast at Skulker's center mass. "How the hell did you get out?"

The hunter-ghost dodged, though not completely. "My suit has some upgraded features, including the ability to home in on my real body—no matter where it may be."

"Always depending on your suit huh, what about your natural abilities?"

Skulker bared his teeth, "And what would you do without—"

"GHOSTS!" Jack bellowed, aiming a very familiar weapon at them. Danny reacted on instinct born of hundreds of fights, diving for the ground before his brain finished processing power-sapping shrink-ray plus thirty feet above ground equaled problem. Skulker sneered at the incompetent hunter targeting them and had no time to do anything else. Dash decided flight was better part of standing around to get shot, but ran the wrong way and got caught up in the beam as well.

Perspective expanded as his whole world grew. Three feet from the ground became three hundred, then three thousand, his backyard inflating to a solar system. Danny was stupidly grateful his superpower-causing accident hadn't included shrinking powers. The shift was heart-stopping like those 'sudden drop' carnival rides, but with the added horror of happening in every direction at once and nothing to hold a person in place. Suddenly realizing blades of grass had become a real obstacle was even more sickening, the world was dangerous enough normal sized.

Worse, Phantom could feel his ghost core's energy being peeled away even as he slowed his fall to a gentle thump on the ground. Already he was weak, weaker than he has been in months and even without using his powers or being shot again the weapon drained them. Figured when Dash was around his dad's invention would work. Between towering trees of grass, the Ops center loomed like the peak of Mount Everest. Its dizzying height alone enough to make every muscle and limb weary just imagining the climb. Danny didn't want to think about what would happen if he couldn't reverse this change in time; that gun was the only key to bringing his powers back.

A high pitched scream attracted his attention.

"I'm puny! I'm not supposed to be puny!"

Phantom leapt into the air on instinct, but found himself wobbling the instant his feet left the ground like he had the very first time he jumped off Tucker's roof. Remembering those early days, he flew low and slower, the drain of using flight nearly as bad as his ghostly wail. He hadn't been this weak since before the Lunch Lady, long before he'd really become Danny Phantom.

Dash came stumbling around a twig the size of a fallen tree, screaming at the top of his lungs and scrambling away from the ominously twitching grass. A jet black leg appeared, followed by another, bringing forth an arachnid head all the more hideous for its size: all the little details were vividly displayed. More legs brought forth the iconic red hourglass of the monstrous spider. Even for a human the black widow could inflict horrible agony or worse. On a human shrunk to the size of an ant, the stab wound from a fang alone would be fatal, never mind the venom.

Dash would be dead meat if bitten and the black widow's fangs were bared with hunger.

Phantom switched direction, swooping downward instead of flying straight, one leg extended. As tiny as he was, the momentum of boot hitting eye snapped the monstrous head away. Deadly fangs missed the football player by millimeters.

The kick was not enough to kill the spider, though the black widow took a moment to rise again. But rise it did and turned on Phantom with more fury than any ghostly enemy, lethal fangs dripping with venom. Legs lashed like swords, one barbed limb tearing through his logo and the flesh beneath despite his dodge. On the ground, knee-level with the spider, the superhero struck with a roundhouse kick to the nearest joint, sending her stumbling off balance as one joint cracked and collapsed. But the black widow found her feet again with seven remaining legs to right her.

His powers still draining away, Phantom could barely gather enough energy for an ecto-blast. The ball of glowing green energy was dimmer than the last glimmer of the night's faintest star. The impact did not drill a hole through the spider's head like he wanted; only blinded the black widow and seared fragile eye membrane. This time though, the monster reeled away like a rearing horse.

"Phantom!" Dash looked torn between fainting from relief and fainting from fanboyness. "You're puny too!" Suddenly he slapped his hands over his mouth as though he just blasphemed. "Sorry, I mean you're awesome. Well it's not awesome that we're shrunk but—"

"No time!" Phantom tried ignoring the chest wound—that was a lot of ectoplasm leaking out—grabbed Dash's arm and tugged him away from the rising black widow. "Hurry, my ectoblast won't stop that thing for long."

"R-right." Dash actually stuttered, never-mind that he had apologized for an insult, and an accidental insult at that. Phantom liked this new attitude of Dash's a lot better. "Um…would you sign my skull? I mean my shirt! I mean—"

Maybe not.

"Later," Phantom said, scooping up Dash and flying them to the house. "We have to get that weapon d-Dr. Fenton hit us with and reverse the effect or we're ant-men forever!" Phantom didn't even want to think about what would happen if the weapon couldn't reverse its own effects. "Did anyone else get caught in that blast?"

"Permanent? I can't be puny forever? You're gonna fix us! You're a superhero."

"Was anyone else out here?"

" I—I maybe Fentonio got hit." Dash gave a panicky laugh, "But he's already puny so it shouldn't affect him much."

"Or he's not puny and could step on us," Phantom said.

Dash paled satisfyingly. "But we're flying," he said in a small voice.

Suddenly the halfa's spectral tail transformed back into legs and his flight began wobbling as the drain on his core and added weight of another human became too much. Biting back a curse, Phantom turned for the nearest thing, a tall blade of grass. As slow as he was moving, they still crashed into the wide blade faster than any human could sprint. To their size, the stalk was a mighty oak and they landed right in the middle of it.

Only for the blade to bend and bounce like a trampoline, both teens clinging desperately to it. "Woah!" Dash wobbled and then turned to Phantom who was panting harshly. "Um…"

Something about the height of the grass blade sent a ping of warning to Phantom's instincts. Tall grass…the tallest stalk gets cut first. A familiar rumble cinched it. "We need to leave, that's a lawn mower!"

They slid to the ground and sprinted, dodging shoots of grass like tree-trunks of a vast wilderness. Dash hesitantly spoke up, "Um…Phantom? Oh SHIT!"

The lawnmower was coming right at them, an inescapable behemoth of whirling blades and tires that stretched miles across compared to their puny forms. Had Danny been able to reach his top flight speed he could've flown over the towering mammoth, but now they were too small and too slow to avoid the massive green machine. Jumping over what towered like a skyscraper wasn't an option.

"Down," Phantom tugged them both to the center of the lawnmower, hoped Jazz wouldn't turn from her path, and forced Dash flat on the ground. "Whatever you do, don't lift your head." He warned, lying prone beside the bully. "You might not think so well after."

Blades and wheels drew closer and closer until the sound ceased to be ear-splitting and became full-body splitting. Phantom lay in the trembling dirt, hands covering his ears, praying his gamble would pay off, that they were low enough, that the mower blades were high enough. Tires passed them on either side, more massive than bulldozers, caging them in until the only way out was through the spinning blades that would chop them both into pieces. Danny readied his intangibility, just in case, but the power fluttered like a dying butterfly in his metaphysical grip.

Blades passed harmlessly overhead, sending a shower of cut grass down to crash inches—or maybe millimeters—above their heads. Through the leaves, the pair saw the sky shrouded in black indented rubber. An earthquake rocked the ground, then another, oddly rhythmic. Jazz tromped closer and closer to her brother and her former mentee.

"Up!" Phantom tried to be heard over the sound of the mower, leaping up and tugging Dash with him. That snapped the bully from his horror but another step from Jazz sent them both tumbling to the ground as though another tremor had struck.

Again they scrambled to their feet to run, but the massive boot was the size of Sin from Final Fantasy Ten, blotting out all light as it descended straight toward them like a tsunami: inevitable and irresistible. They tried flat-out sprinting from beneath it but the boot overshadowed so much, their swiftest speed was nothing compared to how fast that foot fell. Phantom forced his power to course through both of them, blocking out all his pain, straining harder than he ever had at the chin-up bar. "Keep running," he commanded.

Dash was practically pulling him along, as fast as the quarterback was moving. But he wasn't fast enough. Jazz's boot seemed to move in slow motion; Phantom's powers moved in slower motion. Intangibility came harder than during the battle with the Lunch Lady. The ghostly energy almost seemed to die, spread too thin. Dash felt rubber touch his hair.

Suddenly adrenaline flooded Phantom and the familiar tingle of intangibility enveloped them. Black rubber fell harmlessly through them as they stumbled out to the other side. Dash trembled all over so badly he collapsed every time he tried to get up; Phantom forced himself to take deep breaths to regain some semblance of strength. Only his locked knees kept him from falling over. At this rate his powers would fade to nothing before they could reach his front door. He would be dependent only on his human abilities against a thousand threats.

"That was awesome," Dash said giddily, laughing like a loon. "We're alive."

Phantom recognized the 'mental unhinging from near death experience' tone. "Yeah, living is great like that. Come on, let's hurry before someone starts weeding," he commanded. They couldn't afford any kind of mental collapse now. Blushing and stammering apologies, Dash obeyed.

Running those few yards was like running a marathon. Phantom gritted his teeth and tried to take deep, even breaths in order to put off the inevitable stabbing pain in his side but every breath strained the sluggish wound on his chest. It was far smaller than it would have been for a normal human, but it should have fully closed now and his side began prickling within minutes. Beside him Dash didn't seem nearly so weary, or if he was, he was even better at hiding it. The football player's eyes were wide and blank, making the superhero wonder if anyone was home though.

"Um…Phantom…why are we running? You can fly."

"That shrink ray targets ghosts," Danny explained, trying not to sound as out of breath or in pain as he felt. The last thing he needed right now was to act like a weakling and have Dash quit listening to him, or worse, figure out his secret. "It's draining my powers."

"What?" Dash looked horrified, halting.

"Keep moving."

"Ghost Child!" A truly unwelcome voice shouted. "I have you now!"

"He's flying!" Dash shouted.

"He's diving," Phantom corrected, subtly testing his powers. Another ecto-blast would drain him like a puddle in Death Valley. Invisibility or intangibility might be an option, but the struggle to use either power would be fatal in battle. Flying would be a worse idea. For the first time since he started ghost fighting, Danny was forced to rely on skill alone. What he wouldn't have given to have anyone else beside him except Dash, who cowered beneath a fallen blade of grass as Skulker swooped toward them. Even his father would have been more of a help.

And anyone aside from himself protecting Dash. Even Jazz was a better fighter than he was without the powers he depended on.

Family and friends weren't an option though. They had a set of dying superpowers, their natural skill and nothing else. Phantom braced himself on the ground, trying to mimic the martial stance he'd seen his mom do so many times before. Maybe he didn't have so much as a yellow belt in martial arts, but he had months of ghost fights under his belt and had fought Skulker before. He wouldn't let Dash die.

Skulker was a ranged fighter, not a melee one. He slowed.

Phantom carefully eased forward, keeping his arms in front of him like shields, every muscle tensed and ready for the expected missiles. Dash froze, eyes flickering from Skulker to his hero, wanting to be near the latter but frightened of the former.

As usual the ghost fired a blizzard of bombs, but Phantom was ready for the typical move. A leap, empowered by his fading powers, closed the distance. Hitting the ground in a rough roll, head tucked, he got back to his feet right in front of the ghost hunter. Hoping with hand-to-hand he would stand a chance Phantom flung all his strength behind the first punch. Skulker only jerked back a little before grinning wider still.

"Is that all."

Close range combat wasn't going to cut it, not when his opponent was three times Dash's size and made out of metal. Not when his super-strength was all but gone. Phantom retreated as a second burst of missiles shot toward him, forcing him to dodge faster than he thought possible. Swift as angry hornets the missiles tore past him; one slashing at his side. While twisting to avoid another, Phantom felt one strike the leg. Vanishing in the ripped foliage, Phantom hit the ground to evade another burst, this time of knives.

"Ah ha! Finally, I Skulker have downed the elusive Phantom!" He hovered just above his fallen prey barely visible beneath the greenery, grabbed an enormous blade of grass and flung it aside.

Revealing only a shirt as a lure.

Phantom pounced, looping one arm around Skulker's throat in a head lock. The hunter snapped out wrist-knives and thrust the massive blades toward his attacker but the superhero twisted away—nearly. Another line of pain shot across his cheek, slicing to the bone as he undid the catch on the skull, exposing the true ghost. For one deadly instant, Danny envisioned gripping Skulker until ectoplasm oozed out formlessly between his fingers. He tossed the ghost out before he could go through with it.

"Emergency activation!" the tiny Skulker bellowed. The robot's jet-backpack roared to life and Phantom had to let go or be tossed into the sky. Immediately the hunk of metal honed in on Skulker, not so much catching him as smacking right into him and carrying the ghost topsy-turvy over the grass.

Phantom snatched his shirt back from a curious Dash, absently wondering just when he'd been able to detach the top like that. Oh well, it was easier (and less embarrassing) than having to shuck the whole hazmat suit. "Come on, Skulker will be back soon!"

Dash was gaping at Phantom before suddenly finding dirt absolutely fascinating. The half-ghost frowned as he zipped the shirt back up. Why in the world was Dash so bashful when the jock constantly had to change in locker rooms?

"Um…you okay?" Dash finally asked.

"Fine, except for the whole power-draining thing. Come on." Phantom replied shortly, not because he hated Dash at the moment, but because he hadn't the breath for conversation. He desperately tried to keep a reasonable pace with a literally burning side to go along with the usual burning pain. Every step sent a jackhammer of agony through his leg, his bleeding chest strained with every breath, but Phantom powered through it with sheer force of will alone.

Hopefully Sam and Tucker were doing better.