Chapter 3

A Fresh Start

December 31st, 2000 11:50 PM

A large, bright neon sign reading "Jet's Diner" shines on freeway. Up a little ways is diner, with the same name. A little worn, but in good condition. Parked outside the diner are two cars, and three motorcycles. Inside the diner, a thick reek of greasy food and smoke engulfs the air. A couple, on their honeymoon, sit on bench, chatting about their day. Across from them is an old jukebox. A man with greasy black, with a jean jacket is leaning against it. He flips a silver dollar in hand, and catches it. He continues to do the same trick, over and over again. On the other end of the diner, a large bearded man walks out of the bathroom. Wearing a bandana, and clothes similar to the greaser by the jukebox. In the kitchen, a short, balding man works on a grill, while a young eighteen year old girl is refilling a cup of coffee. After filling up the coffee, she walks out of the kitchen, heading toward the bar. A man wearing a leather jacket sits at the bar, lighting a cigarette. His eyes are covered by aviators, a short goatee on his chin. His hair is well-trimmed, and silver. A dusty TV blares live coverage of the New Year's Eve Parade.

"Greetings from New York City, I'm Chet Ubetcha coming in live for this New Year's Eve Parade. People have gathered…" The man in jacket just shakes his head.

"Another year closer to the end." The waitress walks over to the man. She places the coffee on the bar.

"Here's your refill'"

"Thank you…" The man entire focus is on the TV. Curious, she asks.

"What brings you around these parts? Shouldn't a man like you be at some party this time of the year." The man puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, then turns to the girl.

"...Just needed to get away from east coast. Too many bad memories back there. I need a fresh start." Smiling,

"Now tell me this, why is beautiful girl working in a rundown dump like this place?" She takes a seat in next barstool.

"My father, the cook in the back, is the owner of this place. This restaurant has been with my family since 1920. I started working here when I was twelve, however, when my older sister was killed in a car crash...Well…" Her eyes slightly water, but she quickly wipes them away.

"Sorry about"

"...No need…"

"Anyway, after my sister's death, my mother couldn't take. She left one day, and never came back. It left my dad broken. I couldn't just leave when he was broken. So here I am, 2 years later.

"...Your father must be lucky to have girl like you…Willing to up everything to help in a time in need…"

"Do you have any family?" The man chuckles.

"I did...Once...I had a mother and father...However, that was a long time ago...Now, it's just me." He grabs his cup of coffee. Scooting a little closer,

"I've got time." Sipping his cup of coffee, he puts it back down.

"Alright. I'll tell my story. But before I start, what's your name?"

"Olivia, my name is Olivia. May I ask for your name?"

"Azrael, Azrael Grayson."

June 9th 2001

"Please...Don't...I...have a…" A loud crack echoes, and the voice ends abruptly. A body in white suit falls limp on the floor. A silver haired man, in a torn leather jacket, walks through a facility. Countless bodies litter the floor, some burnt, some torn apart, and others soaked in blood. The man is covered in blood and burns. Futuristic weapons lay on the ground. His jacket is in tatters, covered in burns, blood, and bullet holes. His hands are cut and blistered. His jeans are now soaked in blood, torn beyond repair.

"Damn...This is harder than I thought...If I knew the facility was actually was this prepared for someone like me, I would've prepared for it." He continues to wander in the massive facility, searching for something.

"Where the hell is it?!" After sometime, he reaches a giant metal door. Sealed from the inside, it's locked by small electronic lock. A key card is required to open the door.

"Why would they place such a large door here? Well Azrael my boy, let's open this tin can." His left hand begin to surge with ectoplasmic energy. Raising it at the door, a massive pulse of energy is unleashed from his hand.

In a giant room, a group of scientist in hazmat suits frantically work. On the left, five are working on computers, monitors showing radioactive and other data. The wires of the computer connect to a giant octagonal ring in the back of the room. The lead scientist stands in front of the device.

"Give me a diagnostic of the portal."

"It appears to be stable, sir."

Good, good. Someone get on the line with the White House. I pretty sure the president would like to hear about what he has been funding." A one of the scientist turns to face the head scientist.

"But sir, what about the evacuation?"

"No one will be able get down here...And live to tell the tale." Suddenly, an explosion tears the entrance doors apart.

Massive clouds billow out from the explosion. Metal shrapnel from explosion is embedded into the walls. Five bodies lay limp, shrapnel pierced in them like a voodoo doll. Barely alive, the leader scientist struggles to reach the landline. As he reaches for the phone, the ringing in his ear starts to fade. An icy shiver runs up his spine, as he hears footsteps. Through the smoke, a figure walks into the lab. Unfazed by the destruction, Azrael continues toward the portal.

"Finally, after all this time. I found a gate."

"You...You...Bastard…" Azrael turns toward the dying scientist. He tilts his head, a smile begins to form on his face.

"I should thank you. Your research is actually going to be put to use." Coughing blood,

"What...What do...you mean?"

"See, I came here to find a gate to somewhere called the Phantasmic Zone, or for short, the Ghost Zone. Your device, it's a teleporter, correct?" The scientist slowly shakes his head yes. Smiling,

"You see, I am going to use your device to send me to the world after this one."

"You're...You're insane...None of the test subjects...survive…It'll kill you…" Smiling, he raises his hand at the doctor.

"Thank you for your work…" In an instant, a blast of energy leaves Azrael's hand. Nothing remains of the doctor other than a pile of ash. Azrael slowly moves toward in front the device. Reaching for something in his pocket, he pulls out a metal flask. Unscrewing the top, he chugs some its contents.

"Now, let's get started."

Note from the Author-I loved Danny Phantom and Fairly Odd-Parents growing up. However, Danny Phantom was a series that ended before it should of. If any of you are DC fans, you know that this happened to Teen Titans and Young Justice. However, this story is going to wrap it all up. It will also have tie-in's with Fairly Odd-Parents if you read the chapter. I know I haven't talked about Danny yet, but the main reason for this is a) I need to catch up on the series. b) I want to set up the anti-hero Azrael. c) This is not my main story. I have been a DBZ fan before a fan of any other series, excluding Star Wars and Marvel. So my main focus will be on my story DBX. I may take down some chapters to fix for grammar. Thank you for all of those who read these stories.

Praise the almighty Helix my comrades.