Rating for Danny torture and bad puns. Honestly, the violence is no worse than the show. Just more…prolonged. The fangirl inside me is giggling fiendishly. It's echoing strangely in my head.
Takes place before "Ultimate Enemy" because I had fun playing around with the "Jazz knows but Danny doesn't know she knows" scenario. And to all those DS fans out there—you'll get your kicks. HOWEVER, it will remain canon. No sudden proclamations of love or random kissing based solely on the fact that both want to. Aaaaannnddd…on with the show:
Disclaimer: Danny Phantom does not belong to me. Wow. I think I'm going to shoot myself now. That, of course, could be a side effect of actually writing Danny Phantom fanfiction. I mean…I…I wrote Danny Phantom fanfiction. IT WAS THE PROZAC I SWEAR!
Enjoy.
"Danny. Danny. DANNY!"
Danny suddenly jerked out of his reverie, spilling half his bowl of cereal across the table.
"WAAAA! Jazz! I'm right here! You don't need to scream into my ear!"
"No, Danny," Jazz snapped. "I think I do. I've been calling your name for the past five minutes!"
"Oh," said Danny, grinning sheepishly. "Right then. What do you want?"
Jazz rolled her eyes. "If you don't finish your cereal, we're going to be late."
Danny glanced at the clock, then jerked out of his seat, hitting the table painfully and spilling the last half of his cereal. "Geez! Why didn't you say something!" he yelled, sprinting up the stairs.
Jazz managed a long-suffering sigh at his disappearing back. "I did." She glanced at the table and spotted the remains of Danny's breakfast, dripping sadly over the edge of the table. "Aw…Danny!" She grabbed a washcloth and began swiping angrily at the sopping mess. "Sure, I'd be happy to clean your mess," she grumbled sarcastically to herself. Still, better than him being late to school. Again. Danny had certainly been late enough as it was, and he was going to be on time for once. But he owed her one.
Their parents had rushed out the house half an hour earlier, Jack shouting "Ghost!" enthusiastically, Maddie tripping happily out the door after him. She had thrown a "make sure your brother gets to school!" over her shoulder to Jazz before disappearing, and, by heaven and hell and all between, little brother included, he was certainly going to.
Or else.
"Danny!" she yelled again, looking at the clock and realizing how close they were going to be cutting it.
Danny appeared at the top of the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder and running a hand through his hair as if it would somehow make his appearance look as if he hadn't just woken up.
He sprinted down the stairs. "What? What? I'm ready!"
"Uh-huh," she said, grabbing his shoulder to keep him from careening into the wall. She glanced at his shirt. "Your shirt's inside out, genius."
Danny blushed and pulled the offending article over his head. "I was in a bit of a rush," he stated defensively, still blushing. "Someone kept screaming at me to hurry up."
Jazz rolled her eyes for the second time that morning and steered him toward the door as he finished pulling his shirt back over his head. "Whatever." She peered at the clock one last time. "Looks like we're in luck. We'll make it fine."
It's a well known fact that the closer Danny is to actually being somewhere on time, the more likely it is that his ghost sense will go off. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when the familiar vapor escaped his mouth.
He was shocked anyways. "Uh…" he began suddenly, eyes darting around the room. "I, uh…suddenly my…" Jazz looked at Danny suspiciously. "HOMEWORK!" he shouted, making her jump halfway up the wall. "Homework! Yes, well, on my bed. Must grab it!"
Jazz stared at him for a second. "Um…are you feeling alright?"
"Duh!" he shouted again. "I just need to get it…on my own because, well, you should leave without me!"
Jazz narrowed her eyes. "Danny," she said dangerously, "If you're just trying to get out of school because Mom and Dad aren't here…"
"No!" he shouted. "I just need my homework! Really! Now go away!"
"Danny," Jazz argued, "We don't have time for thiiIIAAAA! I mean, TIME!" she yelled into a shocked Danny's face. "I…uh…suddenly realize I have to be at school 30 seconds earlier than usual! Uh, gottagobye!" She jumped out the front door, closing it with a slam.
"Well that was unexpected," said Danny, staring at the door.
"I quite say I have to agree," said a voice in Danny's ear, and Danny yelled in surprise, whirling in mid-air and falling ungracefully on his rear.
He found himself staring up at one of the most ridiculous ghosts he'd ever seen. And that was saying something.
The ghost stood somewhere between seven and eight feet tall with brawny arms, thick legs, and tiny feet. He was resplendent in clothes that made him look like a 17th century duke, sword included, along with enough ruffles to make his chest seem twice as large. The large, plumed hat that appeared twice as big as his head completed the outfit.
Danny stared stupidly. "Who're you?"
"The Gentleman Ghost, at your service," he said with a slight bow and a sweep of his hat.
Danny didn't move, but his jaw managed to drop a little lower. "At my WHAT now?"
"You're service," he stated again. Danny listened incredulously to the regal, booming voice. It was like listening to his dad-gone-noble.
"Actually," broke in the ghost again, after it became quite obvious that Danny wasn't going to be able to speak anytime soon, "I'd be very much obliged if you would ask what I need."
Danny looked at him suspiciously but decided to bite. "Alright," he said, "How can I be of service?"
The ghost grinned widely. "Glad you asked, son!"
Danny couldn't believe this. He was going to be late because some ghost wanted his help. Therapy would be in order before this was all over. Ah well; Jazz could probably hook him up with some psychologist or something. On the other hand, the last time Jazz had signed him up for psychological help it hadn't exactly been a whirligig of fun. The ghost cleared his throat loudly and spoke again, breaking into Danny's inner musings.
"I'm searching for the ghost hunters," he stated.
Danny perked up instantly. "You mean Jack and Maddie Fenton?" he asked incredulously.
"Exactly!" boomed the ghost. "Knew you were the one to ask! How do you know them?"
"I'm their son, Danny Fenton," replied Danny.
"Ah," said the ghost, nodding his head and beaming. "Good connections you've got there."
Danny nodded his head automatically, trying to be reasonable. It would be great if he could talk his way out of the situation for once. If he could finish this quickly he might even get to school on time, what with his handy flying abilities. "What do you want with them?"
"Well," said the ghost, "I'm going to kill them."
"WHAT!" cried Danny, jumping instantly to his feet.
The ghost nodded gravely. "They made me rather angry. I don't like getting shot at. I'm afraid they'll have to go."
"It's too bad you'll have to go first!" shouted Danny, dropping his backpack and whipping out the Fenton Thermos, pointing it directly in his face.
The ghost's demeanor changed instantly. He suddenly loomed tall, filling an entire corner of the living room, eyes burning with hate. He grabbed Danny's leg before he could react, his ruffles bursting into flames.
"RUDENESS RUNS IN YOUR FAMILY!" he roared, and Danny had a second to think "oh crap" before being thrown across the room.
He hit the wall with a painful thud and slid behind the couch. "So much for talking things through," he thought, the familiar rings already appearing, traveling across his body as he went ghost.
Danny Phantom flew up and into the room where he glared at the Gentleman Ghost. "Forget to say excuse me?" he shouted loudly.
The ghost looked taken aback. "WHO ARE YOU?" he roared, still angry.
Oh, for the love of…just because he hadn't seen Danny transform. Honestly, it was as bad as Superman putting on a pair of glasses. Danny sighed. And yet, somehow, both disguises always worked.
"Danny Phantom!" he shouted back fiercely, deciding to roll with it.
"My fight is not with you! Where is the Fenton boy?"
Danny rolled his eyes. "He…uh…went to school."
The ghost seemed to buy it. Definitely not the smartest cookie in the jar.
"Do not presume to fight someone else's battle," continued the ghost, unperturbed, his ruffles still flaming cheerfully.
"I will presume what I want. I won't let you kill my, uh…the ghost hunters!"
"Fine," said the ghost, glaring at Danny with flaming pupils. "Let the duel commence."
"Duel?" asked Danny with a snort. "What makes you think this is a…"
The ghost whipped out his sword, holding it majestically above his head.
"Oh."
"I AM LORD SPOOK-A-LOT AND VENGEANCE WILL…be…what?"
Danny's attempt at a straight face cracked under the strain and he burst into laughter.
"Lord Spook-A-Lot? You come up with that yourself?"
He looked enraged. "I HAVE RIGHTEOUS ANGER ON MY SIDE!" he screamed, ghostly spittle flying.
Danny laughed harder and leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
"Righteous…ha-ha...anger?" Bah-hahahahahahahaWHOA!" He fell through the wall and got an upside down view of the kitchen before he caught himself. He reversed back into the living room, wiping a tear from his eye. "Haha…sorry…just," he looked up and barely dodged a vicious swing that managed to nearly split the wall in two.
"HEY!" said Danny. "Calm down! I just…well, okay, I made fun of your name, but that doesn't mean you WAAA!" Danny dodged another attack, Lord Spook-A-Lot apparently too angry for words.
"Alright," said Danny angrily. "Business it is." His hands glowed briefly green and he shot a ghost ray toward the Gentleman Ghost who whooshed away with a rather unnecessary flourish.
Danny swooped after him and punched him soundly in the face. The ghost flew across the room, hitting the wall with a loud crash. Danny refrained from wincing in sympathy considering that he was the enemy, but it didn't matter. Lord Spook-A-Lot was suddenly back in his face, leaving behind an oddly-shaped dent in the wall.
He slashed at Danny recklessly, announcing each swing with an over-exaggerated flail of his arms, but was fast enough that Danny was hard-put to dodge all his attacks. His sword flashed an inch past Danny's head, close enough that Danny felt some sort of ectoplasm splatter lightly onto his cheek.
He flipped in the air, kicking Lord Spook-A-Lot as he wiped at his face. His skin tingled where the ectoplasm had been, somewhere between the sensation of itch and burn.
"Yech!" he said, staring at his sleeve where he'd wiped off the goo. "What was that?"
The Gentleman Ghost stopped long enough to howl at Danny, roaring, "THAT WAS THE STING OF MY RIGHTEOUS ANGER!"
"Oh, sure," said Danny, trying to clear out his ringing ears, "Now I'm really 'spooked a lot'." He smirked and blasted a ghost ray toward the fiend.
With an ear-splitting bellow the ghost was on him. As dumb as the explanation had been, Danny really didn't relish the thought of getting hit with anymore of the "righteous anger" that seemed to be coating the ghost's sword, and he rolled in the air, dodging quickly.
Lord Spook-A-Lot circled him quickly, slashing down ever few seconds while Danny tried to get a punch in past the flashing blade. He gasped for breath. This guy was fast. He took a second to pause and take a breath, but quickly realized his mistake. Lord Spook-A-Lot was no longer in front of him and Danny whirled quickly, just in time to take the sword slash to the chest.
He gasped sharply and jerked backwards, but Lord Spook-A-Lot was already crowing in triumph at the site of the wound that stretched from Danny's navel to his breast bone.
Danny, on the other hand, was pissed.
A round-house kick to the head drove Lord Spook-A-Lot into the wall, and he slid to the ground unconscious, sinking through the floor. Danny waited for him to rise through the floor again, but there was no site of the ridiculous feathered hat. He sighed in relief and inspected the slash.
As long as the cut was, it was actually relatively shallow, a good testament to Danny's lightning fast reflexes. It oozed ectoplasm weakly, but Danny could tell just from looking at it that it would stop soon. He heaved another sigh of relief. He really hadn't been looking forward to explaining a large gash up his chest to his parents.
Danny considered following his unconscious opponent into the basement to make sure that he'd effectively gotten rid of Lord "Spoke-A-Lot," but happened to glance at the clock instead.
Oh, CRAP.
He had exactly one minute to get to school before Mr. Lancer owned his butt. Panicked, his gaze swept the room until he caught sight of his backpack, which had, surprisingly, survived the fight. He grabbed it and swooped down the hall, completely forgetting both foe and Fenton Thermos, still rolling innocuously around under the couch.
He was flying for the door at top speed when his vision blurred suddenly and he lurched, crash landing into the floor. He barely managed to keep himself from reverting to human mode, and lifted himself on shaky limbs to a standing position. He shook his head dazedly.
WHOA. Where did THAT come from? he thought, trying to ignore the stinging from his chest when he'd plowed into the floor. He glanced at the clock again.
Forty five seconds. He did not have time for this.
Danny shook himself a final time, grabbed his backpack once more, and flew out the door, praying with all he had that he would make it on time.
Mr. Lancer would NOT be pleased.
Stick around. Next chapter will be up either next week or the week after that.