Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any of its characters; all are the exclusive property of Butch Hartman. Oh, and I don't own Whole Foods either. Basically, I don't own any brand names hereon mentioned.
Over the course of a few more days, he miraculously manages to acquire two other odd jobs loading supplies into trucks making lengthy trips and helping out in the very convenience store he discovered a while ago. He figures three jobs should cover his expenses for the time being.
Needless to say, starting his day out at seven in the morning doesn't sound like a glamorous affair to say the least, but circumstances being what they are, he figures it doesn't accomplish much to complain about the matter.
He also realizes, one day after setting his nutritious breakfast consisting of Cheerios and bland-as-can-be white bread and jam out on his counter, that his diet has also been altered drastically, along with the rest of his fitness routine. He sighs deeply, remembering fondly the days when he could obtain all his dietary needs at Whole Foods; not by necessity or concern of the actual nutritional value of the products, but by the virtue that he could afford to shop at Whole Foods! And exercise was clearly not an option at this point; all the workout he needed before consisted of a quick stop to the Ghost Zone to search for some unfortunate ectoplasmic punching bag to provoke into battle.
With the most he can do now being a few laps around town (big chance of that happening, lest someone recognize him and blow his cover; best to lay as low as possible), he slumps his shoulders and puts back the white bread into its bag. Maybe he can put off any unnecessary weight gain as long as possible.
Funny, he doesn't understand why he's still so concerned about his personal appearance, or who he's trying to look good for. Maybe himself; keeping fit seems to be ingrained into his being now, leftover from his days of being admired and idolized. Too bad those are over.
Ironically, his plan works; preparing for work at Samir's one morning, groggy and irritable, he hastily reaches for his belt before realizing his pants don't quite fit the way they did a few days ago. He looks down, sighing in disbelief when he finds he can pull them almost two inches away from his waist before they become tight enough on the other end.
Putting his head in his hands, he pushes it out of his mind and simply readjusts his belt a little tighter.
It goes without saying that his work day is nothing short of exhausting; a few hours scrubbing dishes in the morning in itself is no skin off his nose, but dealing with a suspicious coworker is enough to set him on edge. What sets Vlad off is that he doesn't even know if Pranav is that suspicious in the first place; maybe he's just being paranoid. No, he assures himself. This man has blatantly stated he has it out for me.
Worrying won't get him anywhere, though. He has bigger things to fret about, and he ignores it, reasoning to himself that he hasn't given Pranav the opportunity to accuse him of anything. As long as he keeps that up, Pranav should drop the whole act eventually.
After a brisk walk halfway across town, he barely makes it in time to have a dusty, germy mop thrust into his hands at the convenience store. It takes a few minutes to adjust to the dizzying scent of Swiffer and ammonia, and he robotically goes about his way, unenthusiastically making the necessary back and forth motions across the store.
A long, insufferable period of time passes by before he is dismissed from the store and he makes his way out to the truck stop, the sky slowly melting to the warm hues of late afternoon. Along the way he can't help but think that maybe this is fate's idea of comeuppance. To be more specific, he had given up on the idea of fate long ago, but he thinks the universe is finally dealing him some retribution. Even more, is this really such a horrible payback? To live like a normal person? Or has his ego gotten the better of him?
Turning the idea over in his head, he hardly realizes when he has arrived at the building with trailer docks clearly visible in front. He comes to a stop and heads in.
A few minutes later he has shedded his coat again and has begun lifting crates into the back of the trailers. The other workers are conversing with each other, laughing, going about their own business.
He pushes a box into position, thinking how even though he's beaten and more than a little weary, he still holds a great deal more strength then the rest of these men combined. He smirks half-heartedly as he imagines the others' reactions to a man of his lanky stature lifting four crates at a time with little effort. The smirk doesn't last long, though, dropping as he puts his mind back to work.
The sky steadily turns to shades of pink, then violet, then finally black when he punches out and starts making his way home. Rubbing his tired eyes, he slinks along the sidewalk, head hanging. He can see store lights blinking out periodically all over the streets, and quickens his pace.
Suddenly, though, he senses another presence, and not a human one; he quickly recognizes the chilling sensation as his alarm to other ghostly entities in the vicinity. Not by any visible means, like those of another half-ghost hybrid that springs to mind, but by a sharp, extra-sensitive, jolting feeling that has been honed through his years of encounters with the other kind.
He whirls around immediately, instincts kicking in as he waits for his follower to appear. But just as quickly as the heightened feeling of awareness manifested, it dissipates silently, leaving him in the middle of the sidewalk.
He is quiet for a minute, listening for any other signs. Being met with a resounding silence, he slowly turns back around and wonders to himself if his nerves are finally catching up to him.
But he is positive that his ghost sense had not been triggered by any other events in the past days, and that it had to have gone off just now for a reason. He ponders over it for a few more minutes before the event disappears from his thoughts as he enters his building.
He doesn't turn around to see a flash of white hair fly off quickly into the night.
A/N: I was originally going to keep the chapter going here, but I figured this leaves a much better cliffhanger. :) Especially since more people in this series have white hair than you think.
*looks from above mysterious sunglasses* Yeah.