Their hacker was good, but Viceroy was better.

Viceroy stretched, cracking his knuckles before allowing himself to relax into his chair in front of the computer in McFist's office. He'd ended up splitting his time between finding the hacker and fixing up the mind reader, so it had taken him a while, but he'd finally realized they'd been duped by that Tucker Foley kid.

Frankly, Viceroy was impressed. He'd designed their systems himself and hadn't thought a mere teenager would be able to get past them—certainly not with so much apparent ease. The kid's work wasn't messy, either. If Viceroy hadn't been looking so closely, he would have missed exactly how many files Tucker had accessed.

He was tempted to sit the kid down for a good talking to and then enticing him with a job offer—he obviously wanted one, despite what he'd done—but it was the files he'd accessed that gave Viceroy pause.

He'd manage to stumble upon the less publicized side of McFist Industries.

Well.

It was, Viceroy suspected, less like he'd stumbled upon them and more like he'd rooted around likely files until he found what he was looking for—although there was a very good chance he hadn't been entirely sure what he'd been looking for in the first place.

But he hadn't done anything, hadn't planted a bug or pulled some joke. His sole purpose to hack them had been to gather information—information about them, information he shouldn't have had any reason to search for. He knew quite a bit about them already, the sort that could be garnered through various internet searches, but nothing he would have found would have given him reason to want to look deeper.

Which meant something else had.

And Viceroy would rather like to know what that something was.

He pulled himself back up to the computer console but alarms started blaring before he could look into it any farther. Grumbling, Viceroy got to his feet. He'd thought he'd fixed the mind reader, but perhaps allowing the Robo-Apes to test it had caused it to malfunction. He'd never designed it to interpret synthetic neural firings, after all.

But the alarm, Viceroy soon realized, hadn't been triggered by a malfunctioning mind reader.

It had been triggered by a very successful Ninja Finder.

Viceroy picked up the tracker that had still been sitting on McFist's desk, hit a few keys to acknowledge the alarm—he'd turned it to 'alarm' for fear he might miss the quieter announcement of success while absorbed in his other work—and found himself staring at a rough grid of Norrisville. He allowed the machine to automatically zoom in, noticing how it centered itself on the high school. There was comfort in that—it meant nothing had gone wrong in the deployment process, and he'd expected the Ninja to be at the school—because, although he did not doubt his skill, McFist often did.

Viceroy called over Otto to get his update on the mind reader and a smug smile settled on his face when the robot displayed the holographic results. The mind reader appeared to be in perfect working condition. He'd assumed as much when he'd left it half an hour ago, but having the assurance was immensely satisfying.

McFist carried a second handset version of the tracker, one which was slightly smaller and much simpler in design. McFist should be able to follow up on the Ninja while Viceroy contacted Booray. Booray hadn't seemed eager to stay around, exactly, but Viceroy had known how to tempt him into not going too far. Booray was nothing if not an opportunist.

And, frankly, Viceroy was confident enough in his ability that he believed the Ninja wouldn't immediately become aware of the tracking system he'd devised and subsequently destroy it. Consequently, McFist ought to have enough time to work—providing he could devise a way to ditch the Fentons or convince them to come along on the pretence that he was doing something else.

Viceroy was significantly less confident in McFist's ability to do either of those things, but life wasn't perfect.

Viceroy phoned McFist and was less than amused when it went through to the answering machine. "Sir," he said, aware that others might hear his message if McFist wasn't careful, "check our tracker to see if it's picked anything up on the test." The Fentons—at least Madeline Fenton, if not Jack—were aware that he'd been designing a tracker similar to their own. It would not be surprising to them that he was conducting a test. And McFist should know exactly what he meant, what it meant, and hopefully he would be mindful of his surroundings and not shout out that he was going to destroy the Ninja.

Viceroy wasn't terribly confident in McFist's ability to restrain himself when it came to that, either, but he needed to get to Booray before he had to stake out the Shack.

He really wasn't sure what was worse when it came to that, McFist eager to come along at every opportunity so he could eat more crawdads and consequently having them waste a lot of time and money (because Booray was no fool and took advantage of McFist's ignorance and Viceroy's inability to correct him) or listening to McFist go on and on about the delicious small lobsters they served. Besides, they weren't sure when Booray would show up. It was simply the one place Viceroy was certain he'd go back to.

But seeing as he hadn't given Booray everything earlier when it came to fancy new extras, Viceroy was certain he could coax the trapper back—especially since Viceroy knew the man could be reached through his new McFist Pad.

Viceroy contacted Booray, ordered the nearest pair of Robo-Apes to collect the trapper's compensation, and settled in to wait. He wasn't sure who he'd hear from first—whether McFist would call him in a panic or in his excitement or if Booray would show up in the lobby—but he would be ready either way.

And this time, they would finally catch the Ninja.

"They're at the school!" Jack crowed as Norrisville High came into view when they screeched around the corner. "We'll get 'em before they can harm the kids!"

Maddie glanced back at their passenger. For his part, Hannibal McFist only looked slightly green. She hoped the beeping that had been going off for the last two blocks was merely his phone or some such communication device and not a medical device. "We'll gear up here," she said as Jack spun into the parking lot and ran into the cement barrier at the head of the spot he'd taken. She was prepared for the jarring movement, but McFist was jolted forward against his seat harness. "You did say you know how to handle a gun? Our ectoguns are much the same but with significantly less recoil. You do remember from when you fired one before?"

With visible effort, McFist pried his hands from the armrests. "Yes," he croaked. "Good."

"It's best if you silence your phone," Maddie added when McFist made no further movement, not even to unbuckle his safety harness. "The longer we manage to keep the element of surprise, the better."

"Phone?" McFist looked at her dumbly for a moment before he collected himself. "Yes. Phone." He undid his harness and reached into his breast pocket. What he pulled out didn't look much like a phone, more like a glass soap bar which pulsed green than anything else, but Maddie would have been surprised if he used none of his own inventions. McFist hit a button. The beeping ended, but the pulsing green glow did not. "We should split up," he said, surprising her. "We can cover more ground. Whoever finds the ghost first can trap it."

Maddie frowned. There was something in McFist's voice…. "We can wait a few minutes to allow you to recover yourself—" he must still be in shock; Jack's driving was known to do that "—but you should remain with one of us. You aren't familiar enough with our weapons to immediately begin testing them in the field."

"Then why do you deem them safe enough for the public?" McFist challenged, sounding more like himself as he hopped out of the Assault Vehicle. Jack had already gone around back to begin unloading, and metal clanged against metal as he sorted through the weapons. Maddie moved to join him as McFist continued, "I'm not going to produce anything I can't use myself."

"Oh, they're easy to use. A five year old can handle them!" Jack said enthusiastically.

"A five year old with some practice," Maddie corrected hastily. She didn't want McFist to get the wrong idea—or to think that they'd handed their weapons over to their kids without guidance. "Our devices don't harm humans—you'll not do much more than cause a bruise or two or find yourself in dire need of a shower—but you need practice to use them properly, just as you do with anything else."

"Just give me something simple," McFist insisted. "One of those ectonet thingamajigs."

A net gun was a clever choice, quite harmless by comparison to some of their inventory, but…. "A ghost of any strength will break through that almost immediately." And if the ghosts they'd detected were the ones she'd heard of, they'd be quite strong indeed. Certainly nothing that could be kept down by a mere net prior to any weakening.

McFist frowned, but before he could open his mouth to argue further, Jack hefted the Fenton Bazooka onto his shoulder. "I'm going to go ahead," he said. He tapped his ear. "Got your Fenton Phone, Mads? I can tell you two where the ghosts are once I find them!"

Maddie sighed. She should have known she couldn't keep Jack down for long. As much as he liked sharing his knowledge of ghost hunting, when it didn't come to family, he'd take hunting over explaining. "We still aren't certain of the range on these," she reminded Jack as she fitted her Fenton Phone. "We'll be fine within a few blocks, but remember to let me know which direction you're going if you begin chasing."

"Got it, baby! You can count on me!"

As Jack bounded off, Maddie turned back to McFist. Reading the expression on his face, she said, "Ordinary walls don't trap ghosts. We might find them here, but we certainly have no guarantee that they'll remain here. If Jack takes the Assault Vehicle and chases them to the other end of town, there's a very good chance we'll lose contact with him. We've encountered some interference on earlier tests. Given the amount of ecto-radiation in Amity Park, our readings might be different here."

McFist scrunched up his nose. "You haven't done extensive tests on these, have you?"

It was a flat question, and it told her that he was more observant than he first appeared—just like her dear Jack. But then again, he would have to be to run as large a company as he did. Vlad was certainly sharp. "No," Maddie agreed softly.

McFist snorted. "So did you come here in hopes of cutting a deal or hunting ghosts?"

Maddie's smile was wry; she was no longer surprised that they'd been caught out. "Truthfully, both. We would welcome the chance to expand our production and partner on the project with a reliable company such as yours. But Jack and I have been in this business long enough to be able to sniff out a reliable ghost story."

McFist gave her an incredulous look. "You're not really here because of that curse story, are you? About that kid and the swamp?"

Maddie raised an eyebrow. "Please, do give us a bit more credibility than that." She strapped a multi-purpose utility weapon to her belt. "I'm sure you've heard about the Norrisville Ninja?"

McFist froze, and she knew immediately that he had. "You're here…because of the Ninja?"

Maddie nodded in assent. "And to give our children a chance to puzzle it out for themselves. They are more proficient than they will admit to themselves, and they have the same drive as we do to protect innocent people. We wanted to give them the opportunity to acknowledge that drive within themselves." She paused. "And, if necessary, give them some help. That is what we are going to be doing now."

McFist stared at her. She imagined he might say many things—a number of those about her dubious parenting, admittedly—but in the end all he said was, "You think your kids came to a school on their vacation?"

Maddie smiled and handed McFist the net gun he'd requested. "Let's just say I won't be surprised if they turn up. They are quite clever."

McFist grunted. "So's the Ninja."

Maddie looked at him for a long moment. "You've encountered him."

It wasn't a question, and McFist wasn't foolish enough to take it as one. "We've got a history," McFist said shortly. He hesitated, seeming to consider his words, and in the end added, "Ninja's a troublemaker. I've tried to catch him before; haven't succeeded."

Maddie laughed before she caught herself. "I'm sorry," she said, managing to contain her amusement to a grin, "but I would have been highly impressed if you were able to catch him. Ghosts are terribly difficult to contain, and I saw no equipment in your factory that looked like it would help you accomplish that—certainly not successfully."

"We'll see if this is different, then." McFist pointed at the ectoguns. "Give me one of those, too."

"Are you certain? These can cause minor scorch marks if your aim—"

"My aim's perfectly fine!" McFist snapped. "And if you see the Ninja, shoot first and ask questions later. He's a menace, no matter what other people say. If you've seen the amount of damage he's caused this town, you wouldn't need to think twice about that."

Maddie's hand stilled over the box of ectoguns. "The Ninja is viewed as a hero." McFist grumbled his assent, and she picked up an ectogun. "I'm familiar with the type." She handed it to him, and he looked surprised but took it nonetheless. "In Amity Park, there is one ghost, Danny Phantom, who sounds much the same as your Ninja. You needn't worry that Jack or I will be swayed by his story. I daresay we know ghosts better than anyone in this town, and we know never to trust them."

As Maddie tucked her hair into her hood and fitted her goggles into place—it was best to be prepared while ghost hunting, after all, and the goggles helped her eyes adjust to sudden changes in light—McFist slipped the ectogun into an inner pocket in his suit. He held onto the net gun as if he wasn't sure if he should keep it in sight, either, despite his eagerness. "My reputation—"

"I understand. I'll take point; just stay behind me. We don't have to make it known that you seek the capture the apparent town hero; there are other ghosts on the premises, and every ghost is dangerous."

McFist gave her a considering look. "I like how you think," he declared.

Maddie smirked and picked up the Fenton Finder that Jack had forgotten before reaching to close the back door. "Come on; let's see if we can find those ghosts."

Truthfully, Danny wasn't sure exactly where he was. Sure, there were lockers down one wall and windows at another, with three sets of doors that led outside, but there definitely wasn't any room in Casper High that had such an elaborate mural set in the flooring—some kind of vibrant mosaic or whatever it was called. Ravens weren't exactly as colourful as carps, but still. The place had three levels, all accessible by the stairs that jutted out into the room. Danny walked over to the mural and craned his neck upward, looking at the glass ceiling. The room was big and open.

What was this place supposed to be, some kind of ballroom?

It was pretty fancy for an ordinary entrance hall, at any rate.

With something like this in a high school, Danny figured Jazz might be on to something with the whole 'the Ninja is guarding something' thing.

"Why are…we going to…the Eye?"

"We have to start somewhere!"

Danny turned in time to see the doors connecting the far hallway fly open. The kids he'd met earlier—Randy and Howard—tumbled through, Randy running ahead of Howard. The other boy looked annoyed and out of breath, rather like Tucker in the middle of a ghost hunt. Danny wondered what was up.

Well, maybe that wasn't quite the right question.

Danny glanced down at the carp's eye. It looked like a glass ball, raised so that it stood partially above the mural—probably not a smart thing since this place had to be the main lobby, even if it weren't really where school dances were held instead of the gym like in most schools.

Randy skidded to a halt in front of Danny. "Sorry about earlier," he gasped. "I was kinda…rude, I guess."

"No problem." Danny smiled and held out his hand. "We can start again. Danny Fenton."

"Randy Cunningham. This is Howard Weinerman." Randy shook Danny's hand and nodded at Howard, who gave him a wave and continued panting. "If you're on vacation or whatever, why did you come to the school?"

"I've heard about the Ninja," Danny answered honestly. "I want to know more about him."

"McFist holds Ninja tours," Howard rasped out as he straightened up. "You could've gone on one of them. The number of times you actually get to see the Ninja on those is apparently pretty high, and he's got loads of info on him."

Norrisville had Ninja tours. Amity Park had ghost tours—or used to, when Tuck was still in business. Geez, these towns were more alike than Danny had first thought. "True," Danny acknowledged, "but this way is free, and I don't have the cash on me right now to do something fancy like that."

Randy smirked. "Yeah, we know the feeling. But why look here?"

It was weird, but it seemed Randy was as intent on getting information out of him as he was out of Randy. Danny just shrugged. "From what I hear, the Ninja shows up here a lot. And if he's saving you guys all the time, you probably know more about him than those tour guides. You would've seen him more often."

Howard and Randy exchanged glances. "Well, you're in luck," Howard said. "We're the Ninja's number one fans, and we've been tracking him even more closely since we hit grade nine. And—" here Howard lowered his voice "—we've figured out that he sometimes leaves things behind."

Randy's eyes were wide. "Howard…."

Howard ignored him and instead dove for Randy's bag. "Y'see," he continued as he began wrestling with Randy, "sometimes the Ninja—" here he gave an almighty yank and pulled something like a textbook from Randy's grip "—puts some stuff in the care of us students. Temporarily, I mean. We've gotta give 'em back next time we see him. He only lets people he trusts keep them safe for him, though. The ones he considers friends, essentially."

"That's mine," Randy hissed, making an unsuccessful grab for the book.

"It's the Ninja's," Howard corrected. He showed it to Danny. It still looked like a textbook, but it was old, thick with a heavy black cover and red inlay. "See this? Definitely the Ninja's. No one but the Ninja can even open it." He tugged on the book's edges, clearly exerting some effort, but the book refused to open, and there was no visible lock.

"I'm the one who's looking after it!"

Danny glanced at Randy. "Mind if I touch it?" he asked. He could understand the protective possessiveness. He could also understand possessiveness related to any object the town's hero had touched. He was pretty sure some of the kids at his school had collected pieces of warped metal that he'd hit with ectoblasts or rammed into at one point or another, and there were some remains of Fenton Thermoses he had never found.

Okay, so maybe he didn't understand that, but he'd definitely seen it.

Randy glared at Howard, but he said, "Go ahead."

Danny took the book and tugged experimentally on the cover, but the pages didn't even shift. He turned the book back over and traced the pattern on the front. Randy and Howard were convinced the book belonged to the Ninja, and while a book that didn't open for ordinary people made sense for something that had come out of the Ghost Zone, this still….

It still didn't feel right.

But Danny was pretty sure the faint sense of power he got from the book wasn't just because of what Randy and Howard had told him about it, wasn't all in his head.

Besides, it felt somewhat like the mask had.

And, okay, he could understand a ghost leaving a book behind—like he'd left his Fenton Thermos behind—but a mask? A mask that concealed his identity? That didn't make sense. What ghost would—?

Danny shuddered as cold raced up his spine and the book dropped from suddenly numb fingers—something rather embarrassing, since it had been ages since he'd lost control of his tangibility like that. But still. He knew what that cold feeling was, and he hoped the others hadn't noticed his ghost sense going off. Really, he did not need a ghost to show up right now. Not in front of these guys. He shifted his feet, scanning what he could without being too obvious about it, but it would amount to nothing if the ghost was invisible.

Randy scooped the book off the floor immediately. "You okay?" he asked warily.

"Yeah," Danny said immediately. "Fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I am. Sorry about dropping the book. I…sometimes just drop stuff." Danny smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm kind of a klutz sometimes. It got so bad at school that I've been banned from handling any of the glassware in chem since grade nine." He paused, let his eyes wander away from them again, and added, "The book is cool, though. Seems really old."

"Ninja's old." From the corner of his eye, Danny could see Howard shrug. "You know that already." A slight hesitation, then a blunt, "What's up with you? Seriously. You were looking at us before."

"Nothing," Danny insisted. At their disbelieving looks, he relented and explained, "It's just a feeling I got all of a sudden, that's all. Like someone's watching me. It's probably nothing."

Randy's eyebrows shot up and his eyes darted down to the stone at Danny's feet before looking back at him again. "Yeah," he agreed, sounding like he didn't believe what he was saying. "But it's probably better for us not all to be caught here, so why don't we head outside?"

The ghost—especially if it was Bertrand, like Danny suspected—would almost certainly follow them outside, but it gave Danny more opportunities to cut and run, so he agreed.

They only got five steps, however, before the Fenton Phone in Danny's ear crackled to life. "We're seeing two ecto-signatures on the east side."

It was his mom's voice. Since when did they use Fenton Phones? He'd never seen them use those before.

"Copy that, baby! On my way! We'll tear those ghosts apart molecule by molecule!"

"You coming?" Howard asked, looking back at him.

"Yeah, just—" Danny winced as Jack's enthusiastic voice filled his right ear again. He reached up to fiddle with the volume. He wished they had installed separate channels on these things; he'd have to find a way to suggest that in the future. "Um, I should probably warn you guys. I think my parents are here." True, they could be on the other side of town—the Fenton Phones had a great range, especially after Tucker had done something to them—but considering he was standing on what he thought was the east side….

"And?"

"And it's best to keep out of their way." There was a loud crash. "Which means we need to go now." Another crash, this one louder—closer—than the last. Definitely his dad. Possibly from outside, which just cut down on potential exits. "Preferably by going in the opposite direction." He pointed behind him, hoping his mother wasn't coming that way—since that would just be his luck.

Randy frowned. "Don't they know you're here?"

Danny gave him a look. "Do your parents know you're skipping class right now?"

"We could have a spare," Howard pointed out, but Randy was already sprinting away.

Danny ran to catch up, passing Howard on his way. "Doubt it, with that response." He nodded in Randy's direction.

Howard huffed. "This is totally your fault, Cunningham."

An ectoblast shot past Danny's ear. Crud. He immediately began zigzagging, cursing the fact that he'd let himself get distracted. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the ghost.

He couldn't believe he didn't have a weapon on him besides a Fenton Thermos when he'd known he might encounter ghosts when he wasn't by himself. But with Spectra and Bertrand retreating, he'd thought….

He'd thought, if he didn't go after them, they might leave him alone, too.

That was obviously wishful thinking.

"What the juice was that?" Howard squawked. Danny glanced behind him; Howard's hair was singed.

"Ectoblast," Danny answered. Since he wasn't sure the Ninja knew how to use them and he doubted the monsters the Ninja fought could do much in terms of more advanced powers, he wasn't surprised they were unfamiliar with them. "They pack a good punch. Best to avoid them."

"Gee, I never would've guessed that!" Howard snapped. "What happened, that Phantom kid go nuts or something?"

Danny blinked. When had Howard—? Oh, right. His first fight with the Ninja. The non-fight fight. Howard had been the one with his phone out. "Nah, this won't be Phantom. Phantom doesn't attack innocent people. It'll be someone else." He still had his money on Bertrand, but since no giant wasps or bright green ninjas had shown up, Bertrand and Spectra were still trying to be more subtle.

While any of Bertrand's shapes didn't exactly stand out in Amity Park when they were overrun with ghosts, they'd stick out like a sore thumb here when he and Spectra were playing at being human.

At least, that's what he figured, assuming the Ninja fought the same ghosts regularly. His classmates definitely noticed when Phantom had a new foe, and he kinda doubted it was really different here.

But if the Ninja wasn't any different than he was, he'd show up wherever the danger was, no matter who posed it. Randy was already tugging open the door of what looked like a janitor's closet. Danny skidded to halt outside (narrowly avoiding another ectoblast which scorched the tile floor) and shook his head. "Not a good idea. All that'll do is trap us."

Howard let out another yelp as an ectoblast hit his feet and dived inside. Randy grabbed Danny's arm. "We've got keys. It'll be fine!" Before Danny had a chance to argue, Randy had pulled him inside and slammed the door. He'd locked them in before Danny found his voice again.

"Now we're sitting ducks!" Danny protested. Ordinarily, he'd love to make use of the darkness—they wouldn't be able to see him slip away—but from what he had seen of this room, it wasn't that big. It was long, narrow, filled with shelves of sharp-smelling cleaning solution and who knew what else, with potential booby traps in the form of mop buckets and brooms of various sizes if they tried to venture too far back. Randy and Howard would be awfully suspicious if he managed to hide from them in here without making a sound, and for all Danny knew, they were smart enough to put two and two together if they saw Phantom immediately after he'd disappeared.

There was a click and a flashlight flared to life in Danny's face, momentarily blinding him. Howard mercifully pointed it toward the ceiling, and Danny had a feeling these guys had been in here a lot—which made sense, if Randy had filched those keys. That, or they were really good friends with the janitor and had their own set. "It'll be fine," Howard said in a loud whisper. "Just keep your voice down, and they'll go right by us."

Judging by the thundering sound of his dad's footsteps, Danny sincerely doubted that. It sounded like his mom had the Fenton Finder, and they'd zero in on any ghost that wasn't moving—like him—before chasing after one that was still moving. In theory, that made sense. If a ghost wasn't moving much, it was doing something—probably not something good—or had found a target or was hatching some sort of plan. Not to mention, a ghost that wasn't moving was easier to catch up to and sneak up on.

"Flashlight," Randy said warningly. He had his ear pressed to the door, which Danny thought rather unnecessary given the amount of noise his dad was making.

The doorknob rattled, and Randy sprang back at the same time Howard shut the flashlight off. "It's locked." It was Maddie's voice. "If you just hold this—"

"I'll get it, Mads!"

Danny's eyes widened, and he suddenly realized that if it had been Bertrand out there—which it must have been, even if he didn't usually stick to being invisible or shooting ectoblasts—then this was his intention all along: to trap him in here when he couldn't use his powers to escape. By the time Danny was through dealing with his parents, Spectra and Bertrand could have slipped off. Jazz and Tucker had probably figured out what had happened, or at least guessed its possibility, but unless they managed to come up with some sort of distraction….

Danny waited.

The fire alarm didn't go off.

Instead, there was a deafening bang and the door nearly rattled off its hinges. "I should get it on the next shot," Jack said.

Danny, Randy, and Howard all scrambled back, tripping over each other and mop pails and whatever else they couldn't see and winding up on the floor in a tangled heap. The hinges gave way in a screech of metal and the door came down with an almighty crash. The three of them blinked in the light, and Danny saw three figures crowded around the entry—Jack, Maddie, and Mr. McFist. He recognized his parents' weapons—Fenton Finder, Fenton Bazooka, ectoguns, utility weapons, and both his parents had Fenton Thermoses—but he didn't recognize the thing McFist held.

It flashed green so rapidly it was nearly a solid glow.

Maybe it was the way the light caught McFist's face, painting him a sickly green and casting eerie shadows, but Danny didn't like it—or his manic expression.

"We did it!" he crowed. "We found the Ninja!"