The stars, tiny droplets of light set against a twilight blue canvas, twinkled entrancingly through the waxy moonlight. The night's cool, airy feel and fresh earthy smell had at least one enthusiast.
He looked up from his lush emerald grassy bed at this, observing the sky through green eyes that shone with an impression of radioactivity. His hair was as white as snow, although, in the night's darkness, it seemed to gain a silvery lustre. His black hazmat suit almost blended in with the grass, but his pure white aura distinguished the outline where the suit ended and the grass started. White gloves and boots were part of the suit, with a more recent addition of a white emblem portrayed on his chest. The emblem appeared to shine brighter than his aura. The emblem's presence couldn't go unnoticed if it tried. Its design showed a wide "D" shape with three points on the flat edge that gave the illusion of spectral trails. A section of the bottom of the "D" shape had been cut out to form a smaller "P" shape within it. Together, they formed his initials: "DP".
A chilly breeze glided over him. He gently shivered and pulled a white coat over his arms. It had long black cuffs and a matching black collar.
He rested his head on both gloved hands, smiling peacefully. He rested his right foot sole-down on the ground with his knee raised. His left leg casually crossed over the right leg at the knee. Surrounded by two trees in addition to a row of thriving bushes behind, he felt safely comfortable in Amity's park.
He didn't understand why he enjoyed this so much. He would sneak out a couple of nights a week if he could, when the skies were clear, the stars were visible and there were no ghosts to be found within the city's limits. Just to watch the stars gradually drift by.
Quite naturally, he kept these times a secret, even from his best friends. If he couldn't understand why he enjoyed this tranquillity, then it was likely that they would burst out laughing if he told them. He could trust them to keep other, more important secrets.
But that was just it; he couldn't trust any other people with his secret.
He was part ghost.
He was public ghost enemy number one.
His parents were eccentric ghost hunters. They would likely jump at the chance to tear his ghost persona limb from limb. They were a mixed blessing in his efforts to stop evil ghosts from escaping from the ghost zone. On one hand, there was the weight of avoiding them and halting their efforts to destroy him. On the other, they invented new ways to stop ghosts all the time. They had also stopped an evil ghost or two from creating too much havoc. He was glad of that. But on a third hand (something which he could obtain by trying to duplicate his form), the inventions could also be used against him.
They were also the most competent ghost hunters he had ever met. Even after the time his arch-enemy, Vlad Plasmius, had set a million dollar bounty on his head and flooded Amity Park with ghost hunters.
He propped himself up and snarled in a deep, resounding tone, "Vlad."
Vlad had similar powers to his, except, after twenty years of experience; he was far more advanced with them than he was.
He shook the topic of Vlad out of his head. He didn't want to be thinking about a single forty year old who was obsessed with winning the love of his mother, killing his father and making him join his side.
It just wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to have in his head right now.
He turned his attention to his ghost powers as he stared into the pastel yellow moon. He had improved since he first had them – and he knew it. Sure, there were some tricks he couldn't quite get the hang of, like duplicating his form, but he had grown and learned about new powers faster than in his fist few months of getting used to them. His muscles had broadened, too – he could feel it.
It wasn't just his strength that was changing; his personality had developed as time had gone by. For example, he was now more confident with himself. He no longer got weak-kneed around pretty girls. Even if he couldn't get a date as a human. He probably could as a ghost; one of his human classmates had a crush on him.
His watch in his coat pocket bleeped as it signalled midnight. The tiny noise distracted him from his thoughts.
He scrambled up to his feet stiffly and stretched out all of his limbs. He crouched like a cat ready to pounce and swiftly jumped into the air. He began to soar at a snail's pace back to his house, savouring every moment he had of seeing the glistening stars and the pale medallion moon.
Beyond all this, he could remind himself of one thing: deep down, no matter how many worries he had, he was happy.
To Danny Phantom, happiness was a necessity.
Nothing could make him think differently.