A/N: Wow. Just . . . wow. More than 120 reviews on four chapters, you guys are phenomenal!
I'm relatively pleased with this one, though the third section is kind of ho-hum in terms of the writing. And, by the way, Jack is evil, he's just so . . . extreme.
In other news, "BEWARE THE MASSIVE CHAPTER OF FAN WRITTEN DOOM!"
Er, I mean . . . This is a long chapter, at least for me, so enjoy, because this certainly won't be the norm.
Thanks again. Enjoy chapter five.
Chapter Five: Temptation, Maddie and Discoveries
Mr. Lancer was less than surprised when Danny didn't show up for school the next day. If he was my child, I'd have kept him home after hurting his back like that too.
Currently it was four o'clock, and though the school day was over, Lancer was still at his desk finishing prep work. It was, he knew, what he got for slacking the previous day. But it was worth it.
So much worth it that the other teachers had been giving him strange looks all day, while the students had simply basked in the glow of Lancer in an unshakably good mood. Not that it had stopped him from doing his job as an educator, merely that Lancer was a much more pleasant person to deal with when he was genuinely happy (as opposed to the manic giddiness he took on during spirit weeks).
Finally done, the teacher stood up and stretched, mentally debating his plans for the night. I ought to correct those creative writing assignments. He usually handed assignments back almost immediately, but the weekend had been a hectic one, and Lancer had been distracted.
While correcting was what he ought to do, Mr. Lancer wasn't the least bit inclined to do it. That's life, you don't always get what you want.
Marking was by far the high school teacher's least favorite part of his job. The only reason he normally finished so quickly was simply to get it over with.
With a resigned sigh, Lancer grabbed his coat and briefcase, locked the door to his office and left the school building.
A short, uninteresting, drive later, the academically inclined man reached his home. It was a small, functional place, bought on the singularly practical premise that for the monthly cost of renting a nice apartment he could instead be making payments towards a house of his own.
Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, but Lancer vaguely missed apartment living. He'd liked knowing that there were people in the building around him, even if he never talked to them.
After taking a couple of minutes to settle in, Mr. Lancer brought a can of pop over to his kitchen table where he had left the pile of 'to be done' assignments. Not that he didn't have a desk, but somehow he always ended up doing his work on the dark wood table regardless. Interestingly, he only ever ate at the table if he had company over, or if it was a snack while doing work.
Lancer stared at the pile of paper in front of him. It could be worse, they could be exams. Or essays.
It wasn't, precisely, that he didn't want to read what his students had written, this was likely to be one of the more interesting pieces of work he got out of them that year. It was the 'correcting' part that gave the teacher headaches.
The assignment had been of the type that was either the easiest thing in the world, or the hardest, all depending on the writer. Basically, they were allowed to more or less write anything. An essay, a poem, a story, a letter, a speech, a journal entry, anything, it could be as formal or as informal as they liked. There was only one stipulation, they had to reveal something about themselves through their writing. What was revealed was up to the student, it could be their likes or dislikes, their emotions, their personality or even something as mundane what they looked like.
The point of the assignment was two fold. One, to simply get the students writing, and, two, to see how creative they could be when given relative freedom. The part of the assignment that required them to reveal something about themselves was merely there to give them some direction, and to give all the assignments something in common.
Mr. Lancer had been rather proud of the concept when he'd come up with it, but it presented certain problems when it came to marking. Like how to apply a consistent scale to such a wide variety of writing.
Idly, Lancer picked up the top paper, Danny Fenton's.
Glancing at it, he wondered if Danny had managed to find his sketchbook after. Probably not, if he had, he would have given me his original assignment.
. . .speaking of sketchbooks . . .
Placing Danny's paper back on the pile, Lancer picked up one of the other objects on the table, the sketchbook belonging to Danny Phantom.
It was actually rather large, though not too large to fit in a standardized book bag, with basic black binding. Actually, it looks a lot like Mr. Fenton's sketchbook, probably the same brand . . .
Mr. Lancer paused in mid-thought, "Where in the world does a ghost get art supplies?"
Somehow Lancer doubted that Phantom had stolen the book, and it was all but impossible that he had walked up to a store counter and simply bought it. It was in too good of a condition to have been something Phantom had owned before he died. Does that mean he has human friends who got it for him?
It was a novel concept, and one that wasn't totally out of line with rational thought. After all, there are plenty of people who believe Phantom to be a hero, it's not a far stretch to think that some of them might be willing to support him more actively.
Lancer stared at the book in his hands, fighting conflicting emotions. He was holding a portal into the psyche of a teenage ghost who spent his time protecting Amity Park from other ghosts. The teacher supposed that he shouldn't feel bad for wanting to open it.
Who wouldn't want to look?
But I shouldn't.
Mr. Lancer was beginning to wonder how long his morals could win out.
Dropping temptation back onto his kitchen table, Lancer got up. I need to get out of here, go for a walk, get food, something, anything.
He practically ran out the door.
Six o'clock that same evening, Lancer found himself staring up at a glowing neon sign declaring to the world that this was the home of the Fenton family.
Shouldn't that thing break light pollution laws?
After leaving his house, Mr. Lancer had gone to the Nasty Burger to eat, and then had simply wandered around town for a bit. Fate, or sheer coincidence, had brought him here.
Since I'm here, I might as well check up on Danny and make sure he's okay after yesterday.
It was well beyond the line of 'professional interest' to do so, but Lancer found he really didn't care very much, and rang the doorbell anyway.
Maddie Fenton answered the door, "Mr. Lancer! Come on in. . . nothing is wrong, I hope?"
Following the red haired ghost hunter into her home, Lancer shook his head, "No, Mrs. Fenton. I was just in the neighborhood and decided to check in on Danny since he wasn't in school today."
Indicating that he should take a seat and doing so herself, Maddie started to reply when Jack Fenton bounded into the room.
"Ghost!" he yelled training an ecto-gun on Lancer. "Wait, you're not a ghost. You're Danny's teacher, Mr. Lancer." The ecto-gun disappeared somewhere into his disturbingly orange hazmat, before he narrowed his eyes, "Danny didn't fail a test again or something, did he?"
"Relax, sweetheart," Maddie soothed. "Mr. Lancer just wanted to know if Danny is okay after what happened yesterday."
"Oh," Jack replied, sitting on the couch next to his wife. "Strangest thing," he said looking at Mr. Lancer. "He had the nastiest bruise last night, but when we took Danny to the doctor this morning it was like nothing had ever happened. Still, nice to know that he's inherited the ghost hunting genes."
"I'm glad he's okay," Lancer interjected, wondering how anyone ever managed to get a word in edge wise around the couple.
"We probably should have sent him back to school this afternoon," Maddie said, guilt coloring her tone. "But after that bang he took yesterday . . . and he always looks so tired lately . . . well, I thought that one day couldn't really hurt him too badly."
Mr. Lancer nodded in sympathy, "It's alright, Mrs. Fenton, I understand where you are coming from."
"Anyway, he seemed to be fine, so I let him go out to Sam's for the evening. She won't let him do anything dangerous. And Danny will be in school tomorrow," the female inventor's voice was firmer now.
So, he's not home. Too bad.
"You should both be very proud of your son. The way he saved that little girl yesterday . . ." Lancer trailed off at the blank look on Jack and Maddie's faces. "He didn't tell you?"
"No," Maddie said softly, exchanging glances with her husband. "He saved a little girl?"
"She was caught behind the ghost, Danny got her out," Lancer explained, leaving out his own part in the event.
Jack grinned, "That's our boy! A Fenton through and through! By the way, speaking of yesterday, how did the big date go? Danny told us about it."
He told them I had a date, but not that he saved a little girl from a ghost?
"Jack!" Maddie admonished, "That's really none of our business."
"It's alright," Mr. Lancer responded. "To answer your question, Kat and I had a wonderful time. We're going to do something again on Saturday."
"Congratulations," Maddie said, still glaring at Jack for his rudeness.
Lancer stood up, "Well, thank you for your time, I should head home."
"No need to do that, now that you're here, we can talk about ghosts!" Jack exclaimed.
"That's . . ." the teacher trailed off, it was a good opportunity to learn something that might help him track down Phantom. He sat back down. "Actually, I've been thinking about getting the kids to do a paper on local ghosts, but I'm not very familiar with the topic myself. If it's not problematic for you, it would be extremely helpful if you were willing to go over some basic information with me."
And I've got a sketchbook belonging to Phantom, and I need to find him before I go nuts. But you don't need to know that.
"We'd love to, it's not a problem at all," Maddie replied with a smile that was considerably less frightening than the one Jack was now wearing.
"Great! I'm going to run down to the lab and get some of our ghost hunting equipment to show you!" As good as his word, Jack jumped up and ran off.
After a moment of silence, Maddie spoke up, "He's going to be awhile. We have a lot of equipment, and he's likely to get a bit distracted before coming back up. Is there anything you'd like to start with in the mean time?"
"How about the very beginning? What is a ghost exactly?"
"That's actually fairly complicated." Maddie considered the question for a moment before continuing, "A ghost, normally, is a non-corporeal manifestation of someone who is dead, though it can be an animal as well, and is made of ectoplasm. The most common theory says that ghosts are the spirits that were unable, or unwilling, to find rest after they died, though there is an alternate theory that they are just psychic energy left behind by someone. Personally I think the first one is more likely, because an impression of psychic energy is unlikely to be sentient."
"Okay," Lancer said slowly. "What characteristics and powers do ghosts normally have?"
"Well, in terms of powers, all ghosts can fly, turn intangible and turn invisible. Other powers seem to vary from ghost to ghost depending on their obsession."
"Obsession?"
"The ghosts we see around Amity Park, at least the sentient ones, tend to be extremely obsessive, almost to point of appearing to follow a theme. For instance, I'm sure you've seen that ghost who controls boxes?"
"Who hasn't?" the teacher responded dryly.
"Boxes are obviously his obsession, maybe he dealt with them when he was alive, or, and this is more likely, boxes might have played a part in his death."
Maddie's expression clearly indicated her fascination, "Other characteristics . . . well, most of the ghosts I've met have been malevolent, though it could come out in various ways. Maybe they want energy, or just to cause damage and hurt, no matter what it is they want humans usually end up getting hurt by it."
"All ghosts are like this? Even Danny Phantom?" Lancer asked, trying to led her onto the topic he was most interested in.
The female ghost hunter had the oddest expression on her face at the mention of Phantom. It was like she had a puzzle to which she had all the pieces, but couldn't figure out for the world of her.
"Phantom is . . . different."
"How?" Mr. Lancer asked, intrigued.
"Well, for starters, he ages at a rate consistent with humans," Maddie sighed at the blank look on Lancer's face. "Despite what most people think, the appearance of a ghost can change. It has to do with changes in their level of ecto-plasmic energy. While that can theoretically mean that a ghost will gradually start to look different, usually it's a more abrupt change. Either they hit a certain energy level, or gain a sudden boost somehow, and their appearance will change considerably in that moment."
Maddie paused, looking thoughtful, "Though I think it's likely that it can work in reverse too, with a ghost getting less powerful. Anyway, with Phantom it's entirely different. Ghost theory and my experience both say that he should have gone through several abrupt changes in appearance, but, other than looking older, he looks more or less identical to how he looked three years ago."
"But didn't you say it was possible for the change to be more gradual?" Lancer asked.
"Yes, which is what I put it down to at first. But it's not consistent with his level of power. Phantom is gaining power at a much faster rate than he's changing appearance. He looks like a seventeen year old, he ought to look twenty five or more."
"And the ageing is not the only difference," the ghost hunter continued. "He's obliviously less malicious than most ghosts."
Mr. Lancer raised an eyebrow, he hadn't thought that any of the local ghost hunters knew that.
Maddie saw his expression and interpreted it correctly, "We realized it a while ago, he isn't the immediate threat that most of the other ghosts are. Honestly, I think Phantom is telling the truth when he protests his innocence, despite the thing with the mayor. He's not actively trying to hurt us, or take over the city, if he was he would have done considerably more damage by now. But he's still dangerous because he's too powerful, which is why Jack and I still hunt him."
There was something there that she wasn't saying, Lancer realized with a start. They couldn't stop him if he decided to attack Amity Park. It was a sobering thought.
"Getting back on topic, Phantom doesn't appear to be haunting anything, and if he has an obsession like most ghosts it isn't something I've been able to figure out. Of course, a ghost is a ghost, even strange ones like Phantom."
Jack Fenton chose that moment to come back up from the lab, arms full of ghost hunting equipment. "Now I get to blather on about ghosts!"
The excitement in his voice almost caused Lancer to laugh.
Well, it's going to be an interesting evening.
It quarter to ten before Lancer excused himself from the Fenton household. Even then, it wasn't as if he actually wanted to leave, it was just that it was a school night.
The teacher couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as he walked home. He'd had fun. He'd also learned a lot. Jack may 'blather on about ghosts' but he actually knows what he's talking about.
Lancer could officially say that the couple had peeked his curiosity about ghosts. They had also been interesting company, in a basic, adult to adult, non ghost related way.
The conversation, though mostly centered on ghosts, had drifted from place to place in the casual manner that it tends to amongst friends. At some point Lancer had stopped talking to Mr. and Mrs. Fenton and had started talking to Jack and Maddie.
He'd found that despite a lack of things in common, there was no lack of things to talk about. Both halves of the ghost hunting couple were intelligent people who had plenty to offer on topics other than just the local paranormal problem.
Though I still have trouble imagining Jack Fenton knitting.
Lancer had accepted Maddie's invitation to join them for brunch on Saturday, and had also agreed to see if Kat would be interested in joining them as well.
Somehow I've managed to gain a social life in the last few days, the teacher thought with some amusement.
It wasn't that he didn't have friends, it was just that he didn't see them very often. People were busy, and busy people tend to fall out of contact with one another. It was a bit of a shock to realize just how much he'd missed adult company.
That's something I can change. Plans formulated in Lancer's head, calls to old friends could be made, he could spend time outside of school with some of his work buddies, he should make plans to see his family, work on building new friendships, particularly with Jack and Maddie.
And, of course, there was Kat.
Lancer's smile turned into a full fledged grin. He was going to start building a life outside of work.
"WATCH OUT!"
Instinctively, the teacher jumped back a few steps and looked for the source of danger. It took a moment for him to realize that the yell had not been directed at him.
Mr. Lancer didn't doubt for a moment that it was ghost activity. The green glow slightly down the side street he'd been passing gave it away.
I should go home.
His feet, however, were disinclined to listen to reason.
"Ha-ha! I, Technus, Master of all things Technological cannot be defeated by mere children!"
"If you haven't noticed, we've beaten you every time you've shown up in the last three years!" Lancer recognized the second voice as belonging to Danny Phantom.
We?
Once he was close enough to see, Lancer realized that there were four people standing (or floating, as was the case for two of them) in front of a local television store.
Danny Phantom and the ghost who called himself 'Technus' were two of them. And the other two . . .
"Protector of the Small! Mr. Foley, Ms. Manson, get out of there!"
The two teenagers in question looked at each other before running towards Lancer, yelling in unison, "Ah! A ghost!"
That was . . . odd.
"Run all you like, children! After I have completed my newest upgrade, I shall use your pathetic human addiction to television to take over the world!" He paused a moment, "I thought I was over that."
"Apparently not!" Phantom responded, going into action.
Sam and Tucker both stood back with Mr. Lancer, watching the fight. Not that there was much of one.
After a few moments of Danny Phantom trouncing Technus, Sam pulled out a metal thermos, which, thanks to Jack's overview, Lancer now recognized as a Fenton Thermos. What is she doing with that?
"Da . . . I mean, Phantom! Catch!"
Grabbing the thermos out of the air, Phantom quickly opened it and sucked in the offending ghost.
Dropping to the ground, Phantom turned and grinned at Sam, "Thanks."
"No problem."
Lancer looked back and forth between the two, and decided not to ask why Sam looked so comfortable, opting for a different question instead,"Why were you carrying a Fenton thermos around?"
"Uh. . . Danny gave it to me. For safety. . . with all the ghost attacks around he thought I should have something to protect myself with. Came in handy, didn't it?" She gave him what would have been a winning smile, if it wasn't on Samantha Manson.
I'm never going to figure these kids out.
"Where is Mr. Fenton, anyway?"
"He's on his way home already," Tucker supplied.
He answered that rather quickly, Lancer mused, before shaking it off. The teacher was about to take advantage of Phantom's presence when he realized one very important detail.
He wasn't there anymore.
Apparently I need to work harder on this 'getting Phantom's attention' thing.
Lancer opened his mouth to tell Tucker and Sam that they should go home, only to find that they, too, had disappeared.
Or maybe I just need to get better at keeping track of people.
Two days and three ghost attacks later, Mr. Lancer was getting frustrated. So You Want To Be A Wizard! No wonder Phantom's never been caught, he disappears more than Danny Fenton does. Mind you, he's a ghost, but still . . .
For someone who was dead, Amity Park's ghost boy apparently led a rather hectic life. Lancer was exhausted, How does Phantom keep this up?
Sighing, he flopped into his plush office chair. It was lunch hour, and, for once, Lancer didn't have supervision.
He needed a better plan. Obviously the 'it should be easy to get Phantom's attention' theory was debunked.
Problem being that I don't have any other options. He was fairly certain that Phantom wouldn't respond to a seance. And there didn't really seem to be any place that Phantom could consistently be found, if the spook was haunting something it was Amity Park as a whole, not any particular building, or location.
The more Lancer thought about the ghostly teenager, the more questions were brought up. Why did he fight ghosts? Where did he go all the time? How did he die? How and why did he end up haunting/protecting Amity Park?
Who was he when he was alive?
It was this last question that interested Mr. Lancer the most. If he knew that, he could probably find out the rest, if for no other reason than knowing might shock Phantom into talking to him.
The educator had never really been interested in Amity Park's spectral residents before, but the more he looked into it the more interested he got. Especially when it came to Danny Phantom.
Maddie Fenton had been right, Phantom was different. And, despite himself, Lancer was finding it harder and harder to convince himself that he didn't need to know why.
Worse, the thing which might provide some of those answers was sitting right in his briefcase.
It can't hurt to just take the sketchbook out.
Reaching down and flicking open his briefcase, the teacher grabbed the sketchbook by its binding, only to pause when something dropped out.
Placing the sketchbook on his desk, Lancer reached back down, and took out the papers which had just fallen out of Phantom's sketchbook.
And stared.
Creative Writing Assignment
Level Three English, Casper High
Submitted to: Mr. Lancer
Submitted by: Danny Fenton
