Chapter 9

"Who's there?" he barked, trying to sound as intimidating as a sixteen year old boy could sound. He felt a vice-grip on his arm tighten at the answer.

"That is classified information, Daniel Fenton. Anyway," said the voice icily, "get rid of the extras."

The smoke finally cleared. Fifteen or so men in black suits, all on hover-boards, were looking at him and his friends as if they were something unpleasant they had just stepped in. Danny saw his own pale face in the reflection in their shades. The one in the front was holding a rather large bazooka-like gun, much like his parents' guns. This did nothing to calm Danny's nerves. He wanted to run and hide. But he was Danny Phantom, and Danny Phantom did not run and hide.

So instead, he squared his shoulders. "How do you know my name?" he growled. The head honcho grinned, and his teeth were almost painful to look at, they were so pearly white.

"Ah, Daniel, all we had to do was find you and hack the town's central database." The man next to him aimed his bazooka at Sam, and a third aimed his at Tucker. Both froze on the spot.

"Danny? You might want to, oh, I don't know, do something?" Tucker said in an unnaturally high tone.

"Yes, angel, why don't you do something, hmm?" said the person next to the head honcho.

Danny gasped. "Uh, angel? I don't know what you're talking about," he said defiantly, though with a slightly shaky voice. Without an answer from the head-man, the two people pointing the guns let loose. Sam and Tucker shrieked and dove out of the way. The men shot at Danny so he could not follow, then chased them away, still shooting the whole time. The head person put a hand to his jacket pocket. The rest of the men surrounded him.

"Now that those two are out of the way, we can get this done."

Before Danny could blink, the head guy whipped a long, very sharp dagger out his pocket and threw it at Danny.

-DP-

Danny woke up shivering to find Sam and Tucker both still asleep. He squinted through sleep-filled eyes at the small alarm clock on the nightstand. 8:45 a.m. Man, was he glad there was no school due to repairs today; he needed the sleep after yesterday. He began to carefully get up so as not to wake his friends. Halfway through he stopped, and stared. Sam is using my left wing as a blanket. Her face is snuggled in the feathers and her beautiful lips are—No Danny, do not think like that. She is just a friend…Right? Oh, never mind.

He gently eased his wing out of Sam's vice grip and pulled the blanket over her and Tucker, who was snoring loud enough to rival his dad's snore. He quietly left the room and pulled the door closed behind him, not bothering to change into clothes. It was a pain stuffing his wings into those stupid angel shirts anyway, not that he was not grateful for them. He plodded into the kitchen and saw Mr. Lancer sitting at the table, dressed, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper like any typical adult would do. His teacher glanced up and smiled. "Good morning, Daniel," he greeted pleasantly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you, I slept fine." He looked at Mr. Lancer's coffee. "Can I have some?" Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow at him.

"Please?" he added quickly. "I mean, I usually don't like coffee, but it's looking pretty good today, especially since it is cold."

Mr. Lancer rolled his eyes playfully and got up. He went over to the coffee maker and filled another mug. He strolled back to the table and handed it to Danny. Danny stared at the mug. Was that- "'My Baby Boy' again? Really?" he smirked at Mr. Lancer's blush.

"My mother was unique in her way of showing affection to me and my brother," he muttered. "Roland and I—well, we got used to it."

"I didn't know you had a brother. I thought you only had a sister." He narrowed his eyes at Mr. Lancer's slightly ashamed expression. "That was your sister, right? In the picture?"

"Uh…that was me in a dress. I use it to guilt trip kids into studying."

"What?"

"Well, think of it this way! You passed that poetry test, didn't you?"

"Humph."

"So, anyway," Mr. Lancer said quickly. "Yes, I have a brother, Roland Lancer. We were born to our parents, Aubrey Lancer and Kimberly Lancer, three years apart with him being the oldest."

Danny sighed. Speaking of folks…what would his say? They are ghost hunters, and he is a ghost, not exactly a good combo there. "What will my parents do when they find out?" he said dully.

Mr. Lancer gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they won't—ah, how do you kids say it—flip their lids over finding out about the existence of—well, you know," he replied, gesturing to Danny's wings.

Danny just shook his head. "It's not that, Mr. Lancer. It is about being half-ghost. I mean, they hunt ghosts. Will they hate me?"

Mr. Lancer stayed silent. Finally, he answered. "I hope not, for your sake." Danny slowly took a sip of his coffee. Somehow, that did not exactly make him feel better; although, the coffee helped, it was nice and warm. He took another sip. Suddenly his stomach growled loudly. His face heated up and Mr. Lancer just laughed.

"Hungry, are we?"

"Maybe kinda sorta…can I have some breakfast please?"

Mr. Lancer chuckled. "I don't know. Can you?"

Danny jaw dropped as he stared at the man sitting across from him. He swallowed. "It must be the apocalypse. My teacher is trying to be funny."

Mr. Lancer groaned. "Grow up, Daniel." They both cracked grins and started laughing.

Soon after, Sam and Tucker woke up and walked downstairs, not bothering to change as well. Danny looked at Tucker's PDA pajamas and snickered. His eyes trailed up to Sam, who was decked out in nothing but her thin black nightgown. He carefully kept his far-too-adventurous eyes on her face.

"So," he said casually, "how'd you sleep?"

"Fine." they chorused. "You?"

"Fine."

"Ah, the deep conversations of teenagers," Mr. Lancer said sarcastically. "How they move me so." Danny and Tucker glared at him briefly while Sam just rolled her eyes. Then Tucker's stomach decided to imitate Danny's from a while ago. Everyone laughed. "Waffles?" Mr. Lancer suggested. He took out a spatula. He flipped it behind him and caught it, then flipped it to the front and caught it again. Everyone stared.

"Show off," Tucker grumbled.

Sam went off with Mr. Lancer to help make the waffles, leaving Danny and Tucker to their own devices at the table. Danny stood up and followed Tucker to the living room.

"Danny, I'm really worried about this whole thing with your parents," Tucker said as soon as they were seated. "Ya know, with all this stuff about…that." The techno-geek poked his wing.

Danny sighed heavily. "Me too, Tuck. Even if you did reveal my secret—which you'll NEVER do EVER again, I'll make sure of that—you're my pal. Now that Mr. Lancer knows, who knows? Maybe he can help us with the awkward questions, or even just fighting ghosts."

"He's like, forty years old, and a teacher."

"Well, yeah, but—okay, you have a point there. No fighting ghosts. But I'm serious about the parental and government issues. He used to be an angel himself. He knows what to do, hopefully; or, he could just give us a break on our work and stuff."

Tucker nodded. "Yeah. That could work."

Danny smiled faintly. "But seriously, Tuck, do you have to ruin today with that doom and gloom talk?"

"Hey! It's not-" he stopped at his friend's raised eyebrow. "Okay, so it might be a little doom and gloom. A little!"

Danny shot him a smug stare. "Of course," he drawled. "A little."

Tucker opened his mouth and closed it again. He shot Danny an annoyed expression. "Fine, you win."

"Duh."

"Hey!"

They laughed together, tension broken. Danny smiled. "Hey, Tuck, you wanna go to school today?"

Tucker gave him a weird look. "No, dude."

He laughed. "No, I meant taking a walk to the school. It's a nice day."

"Dude, it's like thirty-five degrees today."

"Like I said. Nice."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "Whatever flips your pancakes, Danny."

Tucker stuck his nose in the air and sniffed. "Ah! Is that waffle batter I smell?" He began drooling.

Danny stood up and took a bow towards the source of the delightful aroma. "Indeed it is, Sir Tucker. Shall I fetch some for thou?"

"You shall, Peasant Danny!"

Danny rolled his icy blue eyes at him. "Seriously? First I'm the janitor, and now I'm the lowly peasant?"

"That's right."

"What!"

"Face it, Peasant Danny. That's all you'll ever be." Tucker said in a mock-authoritative voice, trying not to laugh.

Danny huffed and knelt reverently. "Yes, Master Tucker. Of course, Master Tucker. Just asking, Master Tucker. Shall I fetch the batter now, Master Tucker? I meant no offense, Master Tu-"

"I get it!"

"Let's go, Tuck."

"I like Tuck much better than Master Tucker."

"Good to know, now let's go! I'm starved!"

Danny followed Tucker to the kitchen, wincing as a small pain shot through his right wing. He ignored it. It was probably nothing. Unfortunately, for him, it was not, not by a long shot.

"Hurry up!"

"Coming, Tuck!"

-DP-

Vlad Plasmius stood on a hill outside Lancer's house holding a black feather. He spoke, "I will find out all your secrets Daniel; I will make the perfect clone and perhaps give myself these new powers of yours."