By Marisa
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Danny Phantom and all related characters created by Butch Hartman and are his property. I take no credit and am making no profit from this story.
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As a small request from the author, please use the review button for concrit and flames only. Any "discussion" of the plot might spoil the fanfic for those who haven't read it yet, which can be very frustrating as a reader. Thank you!
Marisa
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Chapter One
Jazz quietly crept up the stairwell leading from the lab with a loaded duffel bag slung across her back, ignoring the strap digging into her shoulder. For once, she was glad for all of her father's rants and ravings about his ghost-hunting inventions – at least now she had known what to look for and how it all worked. There were a few extra gizmos in there as well- anything that looked useful she had snatched – that Tucker no doubt could figure out how to use them in a snap. Though she'd never been particularly close with Danny's two best friends until now, she had known for quite a while how good Tucker was with technology and the like.
"Anyway, Maddie – I made some adjustments to the Specter Speeder! I know you want to take a look at…" Jack's voice echoed from upstairs and a wave of emotions welled up in Jazz's chest. She felt a sudden guilt for taking the items without asking, the fear of getting caught, disgust at how childish her father sounded. She bit her lip as her parents appeared at the top of the stairwell.
"Jazz?"
"Mom!" She squeaked, "I… I…"
"Heyyy, princess!" her father declared, grinning, "I just made some modifications to the Specter Speeder! Now we've got some sweet security barriers, an extra cup holder, reclining pilot's seat…" he continued on, though to Jazz his voices simply faded into a soft, excited droning.
Maddie crossed her arms glanced at the bag over Jazz's shoulder. "What have you got there, sweetie?" she asked curiously.
Jazz looked back nervously. "Oh… this? It's… it's school stuff. For school." She swallowed, "a-and stuff." She was a horrible liar and could feel her conscience screaming how wrong this was. The image of a tiny Angel-Jazz hovering over her shoulder fit the current situation seamlessly.
Maddie seemed to notice the hesitation in her daughter's voice, as she frowned and asked, "Why did you bring it downstairs to the lab?"
"I…" Jazz bit her lip, "I, uh, needed your computer. For school," she coughed. "Mine was, um, not working."
"Hm." Maddie's gaze was stern. "That's strange, we just upgraded it a month ago. Do you want me to take a look at it?"
"N-no!" Jazz exclaimed, "I, uh, that is—"
"…aaand – the best part –I wired up my old Atari to the controls! So now I can play Pac-Man and hunt ghosts all at the same time. With that, Jack grabbed Maddie's wrist and yanked her down the stairs, veering past Jazz effortlessly. "Comeoncomeon, I wanna show you how it works!"
The two were at the bottom of the stairs and heading toward the storage vault before Jazz could even think of a reply – thank goodness. Quickly she sprinted up the remaining few steps and around the corner, into the living room, and up the second flight of stairs.
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Sam traced the worn engravings on the table with her finger, frowning coldly at the symbols they displayed. It was a perfectly nice table before some jerk had decided that their message of anarchy was more important than a fine wood finish. Sam focused on it, idly blocking out the bleak atmosphere of her favorite bookstore. She had come here to try and forget her troubles, hopefully so she could have a chance to think straight for a change. The bright and cheery colors forced upon her at home were, ironically, extremely depressing and lately it had been extremely difficult to sulk at the Nasty Burger with Tucker and Danny.
Danny. Here she was thinking about him again – trying to figure out what his deal was. Though she would have loved to blame her state of depression on her parents, school, or society in general, it was Danny's sour mood that was really getting under her skin. He had been acting so… different. There was no way to describe it. She had spoken to both Tucker and Jazz about it – Danny had definitely gotten more bitter– but that wasn't what bugged Sam, at least not the most. Anyone could have a bad week and take it out on their friends (Heaven knows she'd done it a thousand times before) but it was the things he did while in a cheerful mood that worried her.
Danny had become… well, better, in a horribly twisted sense All of a sudden he was good at everything. As his best friend, it was a horrible thing for Sam to think – but it was true, and he definitely knew it. Nowadays he was snide, smug, and – this was the worst part – snotty. All of a sudden he was a step above everyone else and constantly acted as if he deserved better treatment. The boost in his self-esteem would have been great if he weren't such a jerk about it, especially to Tucker and herself. Danny was so cold toward the two that Sam was beginning to think he was only hanging with them out of obligation. Sam scowled. The last thing she needed was a pity-friend to—
Her cell phone beeped a melancholy tune, breaking her concentration. Discreetly, she stood up and ducked out of the bookstore. "Hello?"
"Sam?" Jazz's voice buzzed through light static, "I got the equipment."
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"Jeez, Danny, you used to be so good at gaming." Tucker's fingers danced expertly across the controller, his face a stone wall of concentration with his eyes locked to the screen. He quickly glanced over at his friend, whose eyes burned with frustration. Tucker then grinned. "What? Just because the system's old doesn't mean it hates you!"
"This… is… so… pointless!" Danny growled, fumbling with the controls, scowling as Liu Kang once again KO'd Johnny Cage.
"Yeah! " Tucker thrust his fists upward in a victory pose. "You're just saying that because you're having trouble." He raised an eyebrow and gave a smug smile. "Would it make you feel better if I played as Sonya?"
"Look at this!" The black-haired boy snatched the cartridge right out of the Super Nintendo. "Look! They don't even spell it right." He pointed at the label angrily. "Where did that 'k' come from? It should be a 'c'!"
"Don't tell me you're blaming my mad skills on a grammatical error?" Tucker snatched the controller from Danny's hand, "and don't do that while the console's on! You're gonna wreck the cartridge!"
"Good!"
"Ugh, whatever." Tucker switched off the Nintendo. "How about we switch to something a little less… old-school?" He crouched down by Danny's TV, pulling an Xbox around and in front.
Danny raised an eyebrow. "Old-school? Break out an Atari and then talk to me about old school," He grinned proudly, "man, I could kick anyone's butt at Pac-Man…"
"You have an Atari?"
"Well, er…my dad does."
Tucker grinned, his eyes filling with glee. "Can we play it?"
Danny stared at him for a moment. "No. It's…uh, my…dad. He doesn't let me touch it."
"What, you break it or something?"
"Well uh, he's just…uh…" Danny kneeled down and went rooting through the box of games, pulling one out at random "how about some… Halo?"
"Now that's the Danny I know!" Tucker reached over behind the Xbox. "How about you go make some popcorn while I hook up this up? And grab me a soda! And maybe some chips, and—"
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Danny turned and stared at the front door for a moment before going to open it. Tucker leaned over to see who was there. "Hey, Sam!" he called, "Wanna join us for an all-night Halo fest?"
"Hey, Danny," Sam said coldly, pushing past him and grinning at Tucker. "Love to, but we've got to get home."
"…Why?"
"Because we have that extra-credit science project to do, remember?"
Tucker stared blankly.
"Tucker," Sam hissed, lightly motioning her head toward Danny, hoping he wouldn't notice.
"…Ohh. That extra-credit project… sure. Sorry. Forgot." He jumped up and quickly joined Sam's side, "Sorry, Danny, I've gotta get going."
"Wait!"
Everyone whirled to face the stairwell. Jazz was scrambling down, struggling with a turquoise duffel bag. "Tucker, Sam, let me drive you home! It's late, and if something happened to you, we'd be held responsible!" She ended her sentence just as she made it to the bottom flight, adjusting the strap on her shoulder.
Danny eyed Jazz warily. "Sam just walked here by herself. I think she'll be--"
"No, Danny, you can't come!" Jazz snapped as she ushered Tucker and Sam out the door.
"I didn't ask—"
"No buts! I want that homework done by the time I get back!"
"I already finished—"
"I'm glad you agree! Bye, Danny!" Jazz waved sweetly and shut the door in her brother's face.
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"Is this the place?" Jazz slowed the car as they pulled around toward the east gate that led into the Amity Park Public Park.
"Yeah, stop here. We'll show you where he fought the ghost."
The three teenagers filed out of Jazz's car. Tucker was carrying the duffel bag this time, grunting as he struggled with the weight. Sam gazed around, trying to let her eyes adjust to the dark. "It's over this way," she said as she clicked on her flashlight. They walked for a time, Sam and Tucker trying to find their way back to the battle scene. After a few arguments and a bit of Jazz's mediation, something in the turquoise bag started to beep.
"…Does that mean we're here?" Tucker set the bag down, rubbing his shoulder.
"I guess it means we're close…" Sam flashed the light around, stopping when she illuminated a tree. "No, you're right, we're here! Look at the scorch marks on that tree from Danny's ecto-beam!"
Tucker was already sifting through the bag and grinning. "Man, this stuff is sweet!" He pulled out a small item that looked like a miniature metal detector. "What's this for?"
"It's the Fenton Ecto-Detecto," Jazz explained, "and if I remember right, it can find traces of ghosts after they're gone."
Tucker nodded, already fiddling with the panels, switches and dials at the handle. "I'm on it. Let's see if I can decipher these controls…" He stood up and turned away from the bag, his fingers dancing across the controls effortlessly. His grin was pure and wild like a small child with a new toy, ready to figure it out… or possibly break it.
Jazz had nabbed equipment from her parents' lab that could possibly help them identify… well, anything. It was eleven-thirty at night when they had arrived, and the trio worked long hours trying to work the machinery, looking for traces of ghosts that had been there some time ago – after all, Danny's behavioral changes had begun just after the attack, so it didn't take a great intuitive leap for Jazz to connect the two. The trio was hopeful that one of the ghost-catching gizmos they'd brought along could help them find out which ghost had been attacking Danny – or if he had been attacked at all. If they could find a connection between Danny's weird behavior and a recent ghost attack, they might be able to reverse it and bring him back to normal. They had even considered bringing Danny along – but had quickly decided against it. Every time someone had suggested something was "wrong" with him, he'd immediately (and often rudely) deny it. They didn't need him getting any more angry with them for investigating something which he claimed had never happened.
It was two in the morning before they gained any real, useable data for themselves – and even then…
"Jazz." Tucker held up his PDA, to which he had beamed the Ecto-Detecto's readings, "what the heck does any of this mean?" The small screen displayed a series of numbers and letters, unable to make sense of any of them.
The elder teen stared blankly at the screen, then frowned. "How am I supposed to know? I don't follow my dad's ghost hunting obsession that closely. You guys use his stuff more than he does."
"Yeah," Sam frowned, staring at the readings, "but I don't know how this works. Maybe you should ask your dad, Jazz?"
Jazz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, what am I going to ask him? 'Hey, dad, let's pretend I was using your Ecto-Detecto…'"
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The next day, the sun rose at its usual time – but due to Jazz's late night, the usual time seemed much too early. She managed to drag herself out of bed at noon, something she normally hated to do. Yet today it felt very, very nice to sleep in.
She made her way down to the living room in her pajamas, heading toward the kitchen. After grabbing an apple to satisfy her snarling stomach, she reentered the living room where her father was relaxing.
"Hey…Dad?"
Jack was sunken into the cushions of the couch, concentrating intently on his needlepoint. When he heard his daughter's voice, though, he looked up and grinned. "Morning, Jazzy! What's on your mind?"
"Well, I, uh…" Jazz paused, "Let's, uh… well, pretend that I was using your Fenton Ecto-Detecto for a second. Just pretend, you know? Somewhere, like… in the park?"
"Without my permission?" He frowned for a moment, then laughed. "Well, princess – can't say I can really see you doing that," he glanced down at the cloth and frame in his hands, pulling the thread through with another stitch, "what with your repulsion toward anything ghost-related and everything."
"Well, actually, I—"
"Not to mention your level-headedness and mature sense of responsibility!"
Jazz smiled proudly, "Well, it is true that—"
"In fact, if I ever did catch you doing something like that without parental consent I'd be so shocked that I don't think I'd ever be able to trust you again!" He pulled the needle through and yanked on the thread so hard it snapped with a soft plink! Jack stared woefully at it for a moment before looking up to face his daughter once more. "Boy, would your mother and I ever be disappointed!"
A look of horror crossed Jazz's face.
"Our sensible, responsible little Jazzy betraying our trust and sneaking behind our backs… why, not only would I have to ground you for life, but I'd have to throw this away!" He held up his embroidery for Jazz to see: A crude, unfinished rendering of Jazz's head underneath a rainbow banner with RESPONSIBLE! written in bold letters and adorned with ribbons.
Jazz's jaw dropped.
"I was planning on hanging it in Danny's room – you know, to cheer him up a bit. He's been awfully down lately, so…" he trailed off, setting the embroidery on his lap and staring blankly at it for a moment before turning his gaze back up to his daughter. "I'm sorry, princess, what were you saying?"
Jazz coughed. "I, uh… well, let's say – totally hypothetically, of course – that Danny was using your Fenton Ecto-Detecto."
"Oh, Danny? I can definitely see him doing that." Jack chuckled. "Go on."
"So, uh, how would you interpret the results?"
"Well, they're in code, so I'd have to have the results in front of me to really figure out what they—"
Jazz rushed upstairs and came back down again in a flash, tossing a notebook into her father's lap. "If they looked like that?"
Jack picked up the notebook and looked it over, taking in Jazz's handwriting very seriously.
"Well," Jack pointed to a set of numbers and letters, "These readings give the location. The deteco works like a radar with a radius of fifty feet in every direction!" Jack grinned, making a fist and getting in a battle pose. "That way, I always know when a ghost is tryin' to sneak up on me!" He froze for a moment, then sat back down. "Anyway, right here – from the center, to the north right here, there's a high concentration of ghost energy. A ghost had been standing there for a long time." Jack scowled. "I bet he was brooding! Ghosts do that, you know!"
"…Sure."
"Anyway, right here, we have scattered traces of ghosts – too high-energy to be one of their ecto-blasts, but too low to be the same guy as the brooding ghost!"
"Maybe he was…brooding in those places, too," Jazz suggested.
Jack shook his head. "The readings are too different, see. This one's ecto signature is way off from the others scattered about the area."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are the others all different ghosts?" she seated herself on the couch to the right of her father, staring at the notebook as he pointed to specific places on the page. "Are all the others different ghosts?"
"Might be, but they're too close to tell. If they were, they were probably different types of the same ghost."
"So he had like… minions?"
"Or buddies. Some ghosts travel in packs. Like wolves. Or fish!" Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. "Speaking of which, the ghosts are really hopping right now! I better get the Fenton Fisher and break out the tackle box! See you later, sweetheart!" Jack kissed Jazz quickly on the cheek and made a mad rush for the lab. Jazz stared after him and shook her head, picking up her notebook from the couch and staring down at it. The readings were still like reading Japanese in her mind – but she did gather some information.
There was more than one ghost.
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Many thanks to my beta reader, Tavalya Ra ( clearbluedelphia –AT– yahoo –DOT– com) for helping me work out the kinks in my chapter (and most likely, in future chapters as well!)
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