I finally found out WHY I'm so good at procrastinating, and WHY I haven't been noticing a lot of things that I probably should have noticed before now. (It's because I haven't learned how to be organized. Organization just doesn't make sense to me.)I am sorry that it affects the length between updates, and I apologize to you, my readers.

Thanks go to dragon of spirits, mystery writer5775, darkhorse111, and Luiz4200 for reviewing, to Dannyphantomfreeek, Dannyphantomfn2, and Anime Ryu and Okami for faving, to mystery writer5775, dragon of spirits, darkhorse111, Silver Shadowbreeze, MissMontana, Luiz4200, Kamo Pantomo, Horselvr4evr123, Evil Long Penname Having Individual End, Dannyphantomfreeek, and Dannyphantomfn2 for alerting, and to you for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything belonging to Butch Hartman. (Well, duh!)

Letters of Summon

She worked through her morning routine: getting up at eight-thirty, collecting her mail, grabbing a nutrition bar, and reading any mail of consequence. Normally, she just sorted through junk mail, but today, she found an envelope from the HAGM. The letter inside read:

To Valery Grey,

Um, we were asked to write this letter to ask ya to come in a little bit early.

Looking at the first lines, Valerie wondered how it was that the writers had a job. Particularly irritating was the misspelling of her name.

It was too late to come in more than two minutes early, so she continued to read.

It's not that ya have to work or that you're in trouble or anything, it's just that the boss wants ta yell at ya.

'Uh-huh,' she thought. 'Of course I'm not in trouble. How do they expect me to believe that?'

He told us it was about the incident with that one kid who got out of that brain-washing-thingy. We think he told us ta tell you that, but we're not exactly sure about it.

Well, anyway, please just come.

Yours truly,

Mason M and Devon D

Rolling her eyes, Valerie chucked the letter in the trash can and ate the last bites of her breakfast. She was just throwing the wrapper of the nutrition bar away when she heard yawning seeping in from the living room, followed by footsteps toward the kitchen. Danny Fenton slumped in with bags under his eyes and his hair messier than a pigsty.

"Rough night?" Valerie asked.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'm supposed to sleep with all those eyes on me," he said, choosing a nutrition bar.

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?"

Danny chuckled. "With nothing to do but sit around all day?"

"Well, I do have a few books in the house, but you wouldn't be interested in those. I guess you could always play with the dartboards on the walls." Awkwardly, Valerie reached in her belt and extracted two plastic darts. "Here. I've got to go to work now."

She shuffled out the door, pausing only to grab her hover-board.

Danny hadn't been in the brainwashing facility when they had reached it yesterday. Other than hearing some agents complaining about having to write letters to the people who knew Danny, (because someone had broken him out of the machine), going there had been a complete waste.

And now, Maddie needed to buy herself a new pair of boots.

Flashback, Maddie's POV:

Danny's ghost part, Sam, and I peeked through the vents. "There's no one in there," Danny whispered.

"Of course no one's there, clueless," said Sam.

I giggled; they were acting just as they had when they were both kids.

Squeaking and rasping, the door opened. Sam froze and turned around. "Quiet!" she mouthed. "Someone's coming in!"

Three men entered, two swinging their hands in the air.

"I'm telling you, Tibby, our lives stink!" one of the hand-swingers declared.

The guy who had not waved his hands scolded, "Mason! Devon! You two need to wake up! All you have to do is fetch anyone who knew the kid and keep doing your job. You have it easy!"

"What are you talking about? I've been typing letters until my fingers cramped! I'm going to throttle whoever it is that got Fenton out of the brain-washer!"

"Rescued? Me?" Danny asked. "This does mean that I can fuse my halves back together, right?"

"Hey! What's going on in the air vent?" Tibby bellowed.

"This isn't good," Danny said.

"Someone's in there! Get them!"

"There isn't enough room for all of us to get out at the same time. You two just go; I promise I'll catch up!" I said.

Danny hesitated. "Go!" I shouted.

He crawled away quickly, almost catching up with Sam.

"Why should we?" One of the hand-wavers outside the vent asked.

"Because we'll get a bonus if we catch anyone who doesn't belong here," Tibby hissed.

There was now enough room for me to retreat.

"Okay." Two stocky men pulled off the vent cover. One reached inside and tugged on my boot. I pulled my leg as away from him as he would let me. I couldn't get free yet, so I kicked him, hard.

He let go, but my boot flew off. I just had to leave it there so I could escape.

Behind me, I heard a man saying, "Do you think we'll get a bonus if we bring in a rebel boot?"

The sound of flesh slapping flesh could be heard in response. "Ow! That was the most painful 'no' anyone's ever given me!"