Danielle hated being a clone.
A mere copy. A shadow of an original.
And an original that seemed to live with colors flying, at that. She was just black and white and gray. Mostly gray.
She didn't matter in the slightest. It was a small urge that lead her to feel that she needed something to fill her insignificant void.
All she had wanted was to help people.
And she had thought she had been doing pretty well, actually. A few recognized her globally as an obvious ally of the notorious Phantom, and many thanked her with gratitude for her help with the influx of malevolent ghosts throughout region after region. She had worked hard. She had felt valued.
The blank, lusterless eyes of the boy embedded in the smoking asphalt at the foot of the towering building as she hung in the air, too far away, changed all of that.
She could never be the shining silver that Danny was.
She was always going to be just simply, irreversibly gray.