Downward Spiral by SupremeDramaOverlord

Chapter 2 - Mercenary Ghost Vultures Want to Murder My Dad. Sure, Why Not?

My parents were going to kill whatever was left of me.

I was racing through the night sky at a speed over 90 miles an hour, high above the buildings of the city of Amity Park. It was way past my curfew, and mom and dad were not going to be happy.

Clutched in my gloved, glowing hands was the Fenton thermos. A prison for ghosts. It was a metal contraption in the shape of a soup canister. Mom and dad invented it to trap ghosts. However, they didn't have a clue where it went. I've recently been "borrowing" it.

Nearly two weeks have gone by since the accident, and mom and dad have spent all their time studying the Ghost Portal. At least once a day they open the portal, and when that happens, a handful of ghosts pop out and wreak havoc upon the city. Being professional ghost hunters and loaded down with ecto-weapons, I had stood by to let them do their jobs and take care of it. But boy, do they suck at it! Every time they manage to injure a specter, they somehow slip up and it gets away. Almost a week ago I had decided to take matters into my own hands. Beside my parents getting beaten and bruised, innocent people were getting hurt. Thanks to my powers, I was the only one capable of stopping the chaotic ghosts. When I capture them with the thermos, I use a machine built into the portal to inject them back into the Ghost Zone. But most of them keep coming back, just to pick a fight with me! Apparently they think I'm challenging them or something because I put an end to their "fun". Well, except Skulker. That weirdo just wanted to skin me.

Over the last few days, I've had to sneak out of class to to make sure some ghoul doesn't destroy the school, I've needed to keep ghosts from hurting innocent, random people when I should be doing chores, and sometimes they'll pop up in the middle of the night when I should be using that time to sleep! This has caused me to be sleep deprived. But I've never regretted any of it. Since the moment I turned on the portal, my parents have seemed to get past their differences and have called off the divorce.

I have been converted into a strong believer of all things supernatural. Using my very limited free time, I've been reading through some of the books my parents had on all things paranormal. Most of it was crap…. I no longer read those books.

I slowed down when I spotted my house. It was not easily missed. My house was a small brick building with a giant metal chamber on the roof, which often had tourists gawking. My parents dubbed it the family Ops center, the emergency fallout shelter in case of the ghost-apocalypse. Oh, did I forget to mention the fifteen-foot-tall sign flashing Fenton Works?

Landing in an alley next to my house, I made sure I was alone before transforming into my human half. It was pretty simple once I learned how to get the hang of it. All I had to do was focus and when a chilled tingle traveled up my spine, silvery-blue rings would appear around my middle and split apart, changing my ghostly appearance into a normal, scrappy- looking teenager. I checked my reflection in a window. Wait a minute…

I squinted as I watched a purple bruise bloom with a vengeance across my jaw. My grip tightened around the thermos in anger. Crap! I must have gotten it when I was fighting that stupid ghost! I did not need my family seeing this and jump to the conclusion that I get into fights. Well, fights that don't involve the supernatural.

Unfortunately, it wasn't uncommon for me to get tossed around and beat up before I manage to capture the chaotic ghost. However, it was worse when my parents intervened. Over the course of the past few days, most of the locals had recognized my ghost ego as the one stopping all the rampaging spectors. The people in Amity Park even nick-named me, Phantom. But not my parents. They called my ghost half lovely things like, ecto-scum, ghostfreak, and a few other degrading names. Whenever I was busy trying to take out a ghost, they'd try to shoot me out of the sky! Sometimes I recieved more bruises from them than the actual specters I fought!

After shoving the thermos into my backpack, I quietly tiptoed up the stairs and paused by the front door. Carefully pressing my ear against the door, I listened intently for any sounds. I heard absolutely nothing. Excellent!

Slowly turning the doorknob, I gently pushed the door open. I cringed when it made a small 'creak'. I let out a breath of relief when I discovered the entryway dark and empty. Turning to the door, I closed it with a soft 'click'. Then as quietly as I could, I tiptoed into the living room, making my way to the stairs.

"Where have you been?!"

A startled yelp escaped my mouth as I nearly jumped out of my skin. The lights turned on and I reluctantly turned around. My mom stood beside the lightswitch with her hands on her hips and a disapproving scowl covering her face. Dad stood next to her, his arms folded across his chest and I knew I was busted.

So much for inconspicuous.

"It's half past ten!" Mom scolded, "This is the third time this week you've missed curfew, young man."

I bowed my head in artificial guilt and shame in an attempt to conceal my bruised up jaw while I fished around for a believable lie. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't paying attention to the time."

"You have a curfew for a reason, Danny." Mom shook her index finger at me, "Your teachers are complaining that you've been sleeping during class."

"And you've been putting off your chores." Dad frowned at me, "This has to stop."

Great, now I really was starting to feel guilty. "Mom, dad, I really am sorry! I've just been having a hard time lately. You two don't know how hard it is being a kid today!"

Mom folded her arms across her chest, "Oh, come on, Danny. That's the oldest excuse in the book! There's nothing you're going through we haven't experienced already."

I begged to differ.

Holding back a disbelieving groan, I was about to argue when my sister Jazz came down the stairs. She had her latest psychology book tucked under her arm and I knew she had heard everything and was probably going to make my situation worse somehow.

"The reason that Danny doesn't believe you can relate to him is because you never take the time to tell him about your childhood."

I did not need my nosy sister getting into this, "Jazz-"

"About your first date?"

"Jazz-"

"Where you went to college?"

"Jazz!"

Too late. The damage had been done. Pondering expressions covered my parents faces, and I knew I probably wouldn't like the outcome.

"You know, Jazz," My dad's lips curved into a huge grin, "That's a great idea!"

My sister was slightly surprised, "It is?"

My mom was slightly confused, "What is?"

My dad, slightly dramatically, pulled out a card from his pocket, "This is!" It was an invitation to a college reunion for the University of Wisconsin. Dad affectionately wrapped an arm around mom. "You both can come with me and your mom to our college reunion this weekend!"

I shared a disbelieving look with Jazz. "We…can?" I hesitantly asked.

My dad beamed, "Absolutely! My old friend Vladdy is hosting it. It'll be a huge shindig! We can take the Fenton RV so that the whole family can go together. Not to mention, we might even run across a few ghosts on the way!"

My sister made a scrutinizing face when dad mentioned his eccentric hobby. Even though some of my ghost fights have made the local news, she still didn't believe in the paranormal.

Anyway, despite the protests my sister and I made, nothing could dissuade our parents' decision to go on what would most likely be a tedious and boring trip.

With a chilled gasp, I sat straight up in bed. A puff of my breath was visible like I had been out in the snow. It was my ghost sense. It was how I knew a ghost was nearby, which meant I had a town to protect.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and kicked the blanket off. Glancing at my digital clock, I loudly groaned at the time. This better be good if I had to get up at two freaking AM in the morning.

It took a little longer to focus on transforming into my ghost half when I was barely awake, and I was still learning how to get a handle on these powers. But once the silvery-blue rings passed over me and changed me to my alter ego, I flew through the ceiling and up high into the sky to scan my surroundings. It didn't take long to find the spectral beings.

About two blocks away were three ghostly vultures. Their feathers were glowing a sickly neon-green color, and their eyes were bright red and pupil-less. They were all hovering about the city's buildings, unsurely looking around, as if lost.

Cautiously, I flew over to them. There were a few rare occasions when I ran into a ghost that didn't want any trouble, and I'd normally convince them to leave Amity Park in peace. Yeah, that only happened rarely.

As I got closer, I could hear them bickering to each other in thick Russian accents. I also noticed that all three of them wore fezzes. When I approached, they all curved their beaks into nasty sneers. I no longer felt the need to be polite.

"You guys look lost. Any chance of staying that way?"

One of them scowled, "Mind your own business, Fancy-Pants ghost boy!"

Before I could retort, another vulture groaned with obvious annoyance. He glared at the one who first spoke to me, "My v'ings are sore. V'eve been flying in circles for hours! V' could have been half v'ay to Florida by now." He pointed a talon at me, "Ask him for directions."

The first vulture's spectral feathers ruffled with wounded pride. "I don't need to ask for directions! I know exactly v'ere v' are."

The third ghostly bird finally spoke up, frustration filling his voice. "That's rich. You so do not. Ask him!"

Their voices sounded cranky, and they all pronounced their w's the same as their v's. It would have been quite comical and I might've laughed, but all I wanted to do was go back to bed. They continued to squabble, and getting frustrated with being ignored, I interrupted with exasperation. "Ask me what?"

They stopped arguing. When two of the vultures gave a pointed glare to the first one, he heaved a deep sigh before addressing me. "V' are on a search-and-destroy mission." He held up his claw. A photo was clutched in his talons. "Can you help us locate and peck to death this guy here?"

My eyes widened when I got a good look at the face on the picture. I gasped, "Dad!"

The second vulture beamed, "Ah-ha! See? I told you he v'ould know v'ere he is."

Without another moment of hesitation, I sent a blast of green ecto-energy at the ghosts. They easily dodged my attack, and their beaks twisted into sinister grins.

"Ha!" The first vulture smirked, razor-sharp talons quivering in anticipation. "Nice try, kid. Get 'em boys!"

I settled into a fighting stance as I threw blast after blast at them. Expertly, the three ghosts swerved out of the way of my ecto-blasts. They cackled horribly, and I growled at the unnatural speeds they flew in. I noticed with alarm that they were all flying in a circle around me, their super speeds making them little than more sadistic green blurs.

I cried out in pain when one of them separated from the circle and sliced a talon across my arm. Something sticky dripped down my arm. Grinding my teeth, I shot an ecto-blast at him, and I just managed to get a hit on his right side.

The vulture cried out in pain and the hit sent him tumbling through the air. One of his companions faltered at the sight, and I took advantage of the distraction. Grabbing him by the legs, I swung him around and around while he screamed at the top of his lungs. Concentrating on my best aim, I launched him at the last vulture, and the impact sent them crashing into a brick building.

Refusing to give them time to recover, I let the familiar ghostly power charge through my arms as ecto-energy spilled from my palms. I balled my fists and punched them as hard as I could. The air was filled with panicked squawking.

After I gave each of them a swift beating, I hung back and let them frantically fly away from me. Deciding that their mission wasn't worth the trouble anymore, the three of them flew as fast as they could out of the city, leaving a trail of dematerializing feathers behind them. To make sure they'd know better than to come back, I fired ecto-blasts at their tails.

"Stay out of Amity Park, bozos!" I yelled. "And don't go messing any windshields on your way out of town!"

Gripping my stinging arm, I winced at the long gash. The sleeve below my wrist was torn, and green and red blood oozed from the wound. This was the first time I've seen my blood since the accident, and I wasn't really surprised by the inhuman change to it. I had already guessed that there was ectoplasm running through my veins. I stared in sick fascination. Ectoplasm and human blood were like oil mixed with water.

I looked away from my injury and turned towards the direction of home. But before I flew off, I paused when I spotted the picture of dad resting on the sidewalk. Carefully holding my arm close to my chest, I snatched the photo off the ground. It was torn at two sides, like it was once part of a bigger picture. It to be a few years old, too, considering my dad looked much younger than he is today. He had to be in his early twenties when this photo was taken.

When I phased through my window, I placed the picture on my nightstand before quietly floating into the bathroom. I securely locked the door and transformed back into my human half, but cringed when the rings pasted over my injured arm. It was now throbbing, and I hissed through my teeth.

I pulled out the first-aid kit from the bathroom cabinet, and then I turned the sink on. Rinsing off the blood and ectoplasm, I carefully dabbed the wound with a towel. As I wrapped a bandage around the cut, I hoped I wasn't going to get infected or something. I had little to no experience with medical equipment except for band-aids. I didn't need to make this a regular thing.

After I took care of my arm, I cleaned my blood off the bathroom floor and sink. It'd be hard to explain to my family how ectoplasm and human blood got all over the place. When I was done, I used my ghost powers to quietly put the towels in the bottom of the washer so no one would see them. Then, feeling exhausted, I skipped walking up the stairs altogether and just phased through the floor of my room. I collapsed on my bed.

Turning my head to face my alarm clock, I let out a pathetic groan when I saw the time was now 3:40. I shut my heavy eyes. I vaguely wondered how I was going to explain the bandage on my arm to my family. Maybe I'll tell them a psycho with a blender attacked me. Eh, I'll think of something tomorrow.

Special thanks to my editor, Mollie Nail.