Greetings once again, fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
Thanks to your helpful insights and suggestions, I've finally gotten back on track with my story. I will presume that many, if not all of you have figured out who my not-so-original character is; if not, well then read and find out.
Also, Mina-Chan AMD, Ultimate TH, DragonShadow, Inumaru12,and Phantomhobbitses: I thank you all for your reviews, so please keep your ideas rolling in! I might really need them later on!
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Must I:growls with annoyance: Alright! None of the characters in here are mine.
Chapter Three: The Two Phantoms
Danny phased onto the roof, where the red sunset brilliantly accented all of Amity Park in a crimson hue. However, this was not the time to look at sunsets. He looked around the roof and up into the sky, but found no trace of the blue cloud which had escaped the now-empty Red Death costume down in the ballroom below.
Tucker and Sam came bolting through a roof access exit door, still shaken from the ordeal with the ghost in red. Both were panting heavily, and Sam had nearly tripped on the hem of her long, black dress.
"Where...did...he...go?" asked Sam through her heavy breathing.
"I don't know," answered Danny. "How did he know about you two being my friends?"
"Forget that!" exclaimed Tucker, who was gaining his breath again. "What does he want with you?"
It was at that moment that all three teens heard that same voice from above:
"Oh Danny-boy! Look up, for I am calling!"
Their heads shot upwards, and Danny, Sam and Tucker saw a dark figure in a black cloak and slouch hat hovering twenty feet above them. It was holding the same walking-staff as the macabre partygoer had, and had a look of utter arrogance in its mismatched blue eyes.
Almost reflexively, Danny flew upwards to meet his foe. From this new viewpoint, he could see that under the ghost's knee-length cloak was a finely tailored tuxedo which lay on a skeletally thin frame. He also had abnormally long fingers covered in white cotton gloves, yet the only visible facial features were his eyes: two different glowing shades of blue. Finally, the air around the figure was ice cold and smelled unpleasantly of death.
"How nice to meet you," said the cloaked man, as if he were answering a door. "I can only presume that you are Danny Phantom. Is that much correct?"
Danny was speechless. Usually by now, a ghost would have either attacked him, ran, or shouted some sort of lame pun at him.
"I'll take that as a yes," continued the ghost. "I require your assistance in a rather important personal matter of mine."
"And what's that?" asked Danny suspiciously.
"That's not for you to know. All I'll say is that it involves the retrieval of a special item and the murder of the one who stole it from me. Now come; time waits for no man – or ghost."
"Are you crazy! I'm not gonna let you kill someone!"
"Then stand aside!" The cloaked man let loose a blue energy blast from his staff at Danny, who just narrowly dodged it. The ghost-boy followed suit with his own ghost ray, blasting his adversary out of the sky.
The shady ghost landed a mere two feet away from where Tucker was standing with a loud thud! Thinking quickly, the teen whipped out his PDA and turned its lens on the ghost's face, snapping a picture with an inbuilt digital camera.
Danny came down on the roof just as the cloaked ghost was on its feet again. As he let loose another ghost ray, his enemy formed a rectangular sheet of blue ectoplasm about a yard long and wide to block the attack.
"Such low-grade attacks," said the ghost with abrasive nonchalance. "I wasn't expecting the world-famous Danny Phantom to be such a pushover. Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time with you...loser." He breathed out the last word with an arrogance that few can master.
Danny's blood – if that was what the green fluid that now ran in his veins could be called – began to boil. "Do...not...call...me...a loser!" he roared, his voice building with every word.
He then lunged at his adversary, his fists glowing green, and punched right through the ecto-shield into the ghost's head.
The impact of the punch launched the ghost right off the building, its slouch hat flying off its head. All the three caught, however, was a glimpse of slicked-back, jet black hair. They ran (or flew, in Danny's case) to the side where the ghost fell...
Jazz rushed to the side of the building where she heard the crash. She had been sitting in the RV, considering the theory that she might have been adopted, when she had seen flashes of green and blue light coming from the roof of the event hall. Jazz knew these flashes to be the result of the energy blasts that her brother and other ghosts fired out of their hands.
She had known about her brother's secret for the past few months now, ever since she witnessed his transformation behind the town pharmacy. Despite that she came off as cold and cynical, Jazz genuinely cared for her little brother, and helped in her own special way whenever she could. As she came to the spot where she had seen someone fall, Jazz found a cloaked man in expensive clothing start to stir from unconsciousness.
This has to be the ghost that Danny was fighting, she thought as she hid from view in a nearby sage bush. Jazz's eyes widened at the ghost as it got back on its feet. He looked extraordinarily like Danny: his hair, his facial shape, his eyes, his build...but this man was in his mid-60s and had a paler, more sickly complexion than her brother. Also, his right eye was darker than the other one, and was surrounded by a white porcelain half-mask that covered the right side of his face–
Jazz's thought processes ground to a halt.
That mask...is that the Phantom of the Opera?
She had thought the story of Erik the Phantom had been just that: a story. Even though she knew that ghosts existed, she never expected this disfigured genius to be real, let alone a ghost. Then again, she had been proven wrong about many things she never believed to be true.
The Phantom brushed the dirt off his tuxedo and stared up towards the ledge from where he had fallen. Jazz turned her head upwards and saw her brother and his friends looking down at their adversary. In response, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, concealing his face in shadow. Then, he disappeared in a cloud of thick, blue fog.
For a moment, the older of the two Fenton siblings sat in the sage bush spellbound by what had just transpired. Coming back to her senses, she then dashed back inside the building.
There, sure enough, were Danny, Tucker, and Sam sitting at their table, out of breath, shivering, and trying to conceal their faces as Jack and Maddie quarantined the ballroom.
"You're saying you got his picture?" asked Danny.
"The quality's kinda blurry, but yeah, I got it." Tucker took the PDA out of its holster and brought up a dark, fuzzy image with two mismatched eyes.
"Now let's see..." he mumbled as he started to press buttons rapidly. "If I adjust the brightness, sharpen the image a bit...voila!" The picture was now somewhat legible, showing the face of a pale man with a white vertical half-mask over the right half of his face.
"The Phantom of the Opera!" Sam breathed out.
"Who?" asked the two boys simultaneously.
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.
"I did a writing assignment of the book by the same name," explained Sam as they walked towards their lockers. "You can't tell me you've never heard of the musical."
Danny was vaguely recalling seeing the said play as a child when Tucker cut in:
"Guys, I think the Phantom's the least of our worries at this point. Look."
Danny and Sam looked in the direction Tucker was pointing. There, walking down the middle of the hallway, was a tall, shapely woman in her mid-twenties wearing a red business dress and dark, short rimmed sunglasses. She had piercing green eyes and chestnut hair that mimicked horns in appearance. Danny knew this "woman" all too well.
"Why, hello!" said Penelope Spectra in her sultry voice. "Did you miss me?"
There you have it! My story, thanks to your ideas, is now starting to take shape! Keep sending those reviews in! Like I said earlier, I might need them later on.
Ciao, friends!
Your sincerest regards,
Monsieur Caracal.