Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 14: Neon

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"Get up, losers! We're going to the Neon District!" shouted Patterson, slamming the door to the tiny office open.

McGee looked up, dreading whatever new torture was planned for him. He had, at this point, spent weeks in Amity Park. He'd seen no hard evidence of corruption beyond whatever game they were playing with the maybe-maybe-not-a-government-agency. However, that might have been because he and his 'partners' had been shut in this literally-a-former-broom-closet for most of that time.

It wasn't, quite, the worst hazing he'd ever experienced. It was, on the other hand, the most confusing. If only because it was far, far too elaborate.

"Did the captain approve?"

"Yep," said Patterson. "And you know we've had activity there since Epiphany."

"Wait," said McGee, "why does Epiphany matter?"

"End of the Truce," said Patterson.

"Truce?" he asked. "What truce?"

"You'll see," said Collins unfolding himself from his small chair. "Make sure you gear up properly. You're about to get the full Amity Park experience."

"Not quite full," corrected Patterson. "Activity still isn't up to normal levels. We don't want to overwhelm our little spy here."

Ah, yes. There was that, too. His superiors didn't seem terribly alarmed by the way everyone here knew what he was there for. He was beginning to despair of ever being recalled.

The situation as a whole was very stressful for McGee.

"Gang activity?" asked McGee.

"Sometimes," said Collins, laconically.

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The drive took them to a part of town McGee had visited several times. His visits were not because of any virtue or establishment of the area, mainly because it was largely abandoned, but due to the fact he had discovered it was one of the areas most frequently listed as needing road repairs.

He could concur. The area most definitely needed road repairs. Along with everything else repairs.

The area did not contain a significant amount of neon.

"This is called the Neon District?" he asked as Collins backed the car up into an alley.

"Yeah, you'll see why in a bit. Just wait until the sun goes down."

It would be a wait, then. Patterson fiddled with the radio. Collins pulled a book from the glove compartment after he put the car into park. It would have been nice if they had said something to McGee about how long they'd be there.

On the other hand, he might as well use the time to dig for information. It wasn't as if they didn't know he was a spy.

"Have you spoken to Danny Fenton recently?" he asked. Considering how weird the kid was, the number of things his family was involved in, his (admittedly caustic) relationship with the already-suspicious mayor, and how often he showed up at various minor crime scenes, McGee was certain he was somehow involved in organized crime.

Perhaps even the gangs they were currently waiting for.

Oh. McGee hoped he wasn't about to be offered up to the gangs. He'd become used to Patterson and Collins making light of how he was here to spy on them. Had they lured him into a false sense of security?

The two of them stilling at his question did not make him feel better.

"Look," said Collins, turning to lean over the back of his seat. "McGee. Believe it or not, I like you."

"As much as he likes anybody."

"Stop trying to paint me as a misanthrope. Anyway. Are you investigating Danny?"

"Should I be?" asked McGee.

"No," said Collins. "Look. He's a kid. Unusual, sure, but still just a kid. Don't drag him into whatever drama the county or state or whatever is dreaming up."

McGee narrowed his eyes. If they were going to kill him anyway, he might as well ask. "Even if the Fentons are involved in a gang?"

Patterson and Collins stared at him.

"Is… that a joke?" asked Patterson. "I can't tell. Is he joking?"

"The Fentons are not part of a gang," said Collins. "The only thing criminal about them are their driving skills. They're scientists."

"Scientists don't believe in ghosts," said McGee, crossing his arms. "They're rational people."

"You haven't met many scientists, have you?"

Collins rolled his eyes and then glanced out the window. "It's dark enough to start to see," he said. "Come one."

McGee looked out the window and frowned. "Is that glow in the dark paint? Glowstick juice?"

He didn't see anything like paint on the walls earlier. Was it clear?

"Sort of," said Patterson. She did not elaborate.

As the night grew darker, the few intact streetlights on the sidewalks came on. There were not many lit windows. In the dark, the bright splotches and lines were easier to see, bright and vibrant against the shattered concrete, asphalt, and brick.

The graffiti seemed to come in two types: deliberate, geometrical lines and shapes, and random splotches and drips. The two often overlaid one another, the paint on the bottom dimmer than the paint on the top. It was entirely unlike any graffiti McGee had seen in the past. He hadn't even known you could get glow in the dark paint to look so neon-bright after what must have been at least a day.

"Are we… looking for graffiti artists?"

"No," said Collins, who had settled back in his seat. "Just wait for it, okay? It isn't anything you can guess at."

"Please tell me you aren't pranking those people in white again."

"We aren't," said Patterson. "It isn't December anymore."

"It isn't a roleplay thing, is it?" asked McGee, throwing out one of his other theories.

"Huh?"

"Roleplay. You and them. Like, a game—"

"Hey, hey, hey," said Collins. "We've got one."

"Where?" asked Patterson, leaning towards Collins.

"Right there, see?" said Collins, pointing.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Not too bad."

McGee leaned forward to try and see what they were looking at. A particularly bright green splotch of paint on the side of a building? Wait, was it movi—

The 'paint splotch' suddenly stretched to at least six feet in diameter and disgorged an—

"Alien!" screeched McGee, pointing.

"It really isn't," said Patterson. "It's pretty large for something that blobby, though. Should we call Fentonworks?"

"Eh, let's see if it goes back in. It is a school night."

"Oh, true, true," said Patterson. "Anyway—" She turned to face McGee and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "—that's a ghost."