The Nasty Burger was abuzz with two related news stories. On one side of town, the infamous abandoned house 917 Maple Street finally had credible witnesses to the haunting. On the other side, a high-tech group of ghost hunters from the Paranormal Society (Louisiana chapter) had taken up residence at the Marriott.
According to rumor, the PS had come to Amity Park chasing a bunch of ghosts that had been stirred up by Hurricane Katrina. Other rumors held that they were here to capture the infamous ghost boy Danny Phantom, but those were not as prevalent for some reason.
"I'm just saying you should try to keep a low profile," the goth girl told her friend.
"I'd love to," Danny responded. "But you know what's going to happen. I have to at least find out how many are there."
Tucker sighed and looked up from his PDA. "I'm with Sam on this one. You should stay away from there."
Danny dropped his head onto his fist with a disgruntled huff. "Guys, come on. I can't just wait until they try something. People could get hurt." It was a mark of his priorities that he was more worried about the ghosts than the ghost hunters. Concern for others before oneself is a trait very seldom found in a fourteen-year-old boy, at least to that extent.
His friends exchanged disgruntled glances; the boy was as stubborn as his father sometimes. He was definitely a Fenton. "Why don't you talk to Kat first?" Sam offered. "She may know them."
"Because she's in the Ghost Zone spending some quality time with her dad, and I'm not going in after her."
Tucker snickered. "He's in prison again?"
Danny shook his head in exasperation, a wry grin on his face. "Apparently him and Skulker got into it with a bunch of other ghosts over who owns their side of the Fenton Portal, so Walker confiscated it." They left the building laughing. "She says he's got it completely roped off," he continued. "And there's, like, twenty guards around it."
"So that's why the ghost attacks have been so slow lately," Sam realized.
"Man, how long do you think it'll last?"
Danny shrugged. "Forever if we're lucky."
"We should celebrate!" Tucker exclaimed. "They're playing a Star Wars marathon at the multiplex. Let's go."
Sam started to refute on the grounds that she didn't care for Star Wars until she realized that it would keep Danny from investigating the ghosts for a while. The two boys had never seen her so agreeable.
Ghost hunting was looking better and better. Suddenly, there was time for homework, and Danny found himself wondering why he ever had a problem with not being able to do it. He wondered how many of his parent's inventions would go off if he snuck downstairs to eavesdrop on their company. Once the shouting started, he decided to chance it and became invisible.
He arrived just in time to see the door slam shut and hear his father actually cuss. Jack never cussed. Whatever had happened, it must have been pretty bad. "Jack, dear," Maddie sighed. "Keep your voice down; the kids are upstairs."
He mumbled something unintelligible. "…and the NERVE of them!" He slammed his fist into the table, which cracked under the force.
"Geeze," Jazz breathed, right next to Danny's ear. He jumped, then moved a few steps above her to become visible again.
"Do you know what happened?" he asked.
She didn't even look around. "I know those guys from the Paranormal Society were here. They said something about an exchange of information, then Mom sent me upstairs."
After a moment's thought, the boy reached over and made them both invisible in order to move closer.
Maddie finally succeeded in calming her husband, a difficult task since she was of the same opinion: someone needed to be strangled. "I know they had no right, Jack. But convincing Phantom to use that scream attack on them isn't the answer."
There was a pause. "Maybe not, but it'd make me feel better!"
Danny snickered at the memory of the first time his parents saw his Ghostly Wail. It had been shortly after the last time Ebony Angel came to town. Walker and a handful of goons had been chasing him through the Ghost Zone and followed him back through the Fenton Portal. Once out in the open air and surrounded, he realized he had no choice in the matter, and had unleashed his ultimate attack on the hapless ghosts.
Walker hadn't bothered him since.
"I'm going in," Jazz whispered. She stepped away to became visible again and followed her parents to the kitchen. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly.
Maddie forced a chuckle. "Everything's fine, sweetie. Your father's just a little upset right now." Jack snorted derisively but did not debate her wording, earning a mildly irate glare from his wife. "I think we need to get out of the house for while," she continued. "Go tell Danny we're having dinner out?"
Danny repressed a joyful shout as he flew back to his room to get ready.
"So they were actually demanding your parents turn over all their files?" Sam asked incredulously later that night.
On the other end of the phone line, Danny scoffed and shook his head. "They were trying to convince Mom and Dad that they've got some kind of dirt on us from Baltimore. But I don't know what it could be. I mean, aside from me being half ghost, we told the police everything."
"You don't think that's it, do you?"
They fell silent for a few seconds, contemplating the implications. When the boy finally replied, he didn't sound quite as convincing as he intended. "I doubt it. Mom's the only one who knew, and I made her forget."
"Are you sure about that?" Sam pressed. "What about that Ed guy?"
"Ed…didn't make it."
"But you said he figured out that you're a Fenton. What if he told someone or something?"
As much as he hated to agree, he found that he had to. The former head of the Paranormal Society had been alone for a good hour or two after they met; he had plenty of time to make some record of his findings.
"So what are you doing tonight?" Sam asked. The uncomfortable silence seemed to beg for a change of subject.
Danny cringed; he'd been hoping to avoid that subject. Even his parents had expressed concern about walking into 917 Maple Street without knowing exactly what they were up against. Jazz had spent three hours to extract a promise from him not to go there. He was fully planning on breaking it as soon as the household went to bed. Sam, apparently sensing the general direction of his thoughts, added, "You're not thinking of going out there, are you?"
"Uh, no! Of course, not! Heh, how stupid do you think I am?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"Funny, Sam. Look, I already promised Jazz I wouldn't go over there, so don't worry."
"…I do anyway." She huffed as a faint voice sounded over the line. "I got to go; Mom's calling. Please don't do anything stupid?"
"I promise." After they said their goodbyes, Danny sighed. No, he wouldn't do anything stupid. After all, it would be stupid to wait until someone got hurt.
It may have been dark, but it was far from quiet. A saxophone wailed its sad song, clearly audible through the broken windows. It was a surprisingly heart-wrenching sound made even more so by the tinny sympathy of muted trumpets. Danny recognized the song from his occasional foray near the band room chasing after ghosts during jazz practice. He'd never heard it played by professionals, though.
"Harlem Nocturne," said a lightly accented voice just as his ghost sense went off. "You should hear'em when Gypsy sings. Make a gator cry, she would."
Danny finally pinpointed the voice as belonging to what he had thought was a loose drape blowing out the window. He'd never seen a drape with glowing red eyes before, though. The ghost looked like it was nothing but a floating bed sheet; it didn't appear to have a body, at all. He charged his fists with ectoplasmic energy and held his ground, forcing the…being to stop or float into him.
"Who are you?" the boy demanded. Somehow, it was very difficult to be scared of a floating bed sheet.
The eyes that peered out from the darkness seemed amused for some reason. It probably had something to do with the fact that Danny was surrounded, at least, according to his ghost sense. "Me?" the specter asked in mock confirmation. "I be the Ghost Master. Ever'thing living and dead bows to my will."
Suddenly, this seemed like a very stupid idea. Danny knew there were ghosts here, but he hadn't realized there were so many. He found Sam and Jazz's words had come back to haunt him and shoved them away; he needed to focus.
There were three ghosts behind the Ghost Master. Two identical female faces peered curiously out of a nearby window, while five had crowded close together on his other side. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see two more, one of whom looked like a banshee. Then, there was still undefined number of band members, who were still playing somewhere inside.
Summoning his most cocksure attitude to combat the unease, he said, "Is this all you've got?"
The banshee screeched with laughter. "Ho, he be a feisty one, don't he?"
"Don't hurt him too bad," one of the twins called.
"Let us play with him," the other finished.
Ghost Master chuckled evilly. "I dunno, ladies. He looks a might young to like chains and whips."
"But half the fun…"
"…is him not enjoying it."
"They've got you there, GM," said one the others from somewhere.
Danny's head reeled; the last time he was surrounded by this many hostiles, he'd had the Fenton Ecto-Skeleton and a lot of help. Worse, they were slowly moving closer. Even though they didn't seem openly hostile, he definitely felt threatened. He glanced around at the threateningly non-hostile figures, then dove through the ground to come up behind them. It was somewhat confusing that his escape earned nothing but a roar of laughter from the assembled motley crew. He felt like he should say something, but everything he thought seemed far too pathetic.
"So this be the in-famous Danny Phantom?" Ghost Master taunted. "He's just a weak kid. Get out of here, kid. The Ghost Master thinks we play a little too rough for you."
Danny clenched his teeth and fists, desperate to go over there and prove them wrong. If they decided to fight, however, he was grossly outnumbered. He knew the intelligent thing would be to leave while they were giving him the chance. "I'm not running away," he informed them. "I'll be back. Count on it."
"We'll be waiting, kid," the ghost called after him. "We'll be waiting."