Shards

Chapter One

The two flowed easily among the swirls of green and the purple doors, swimming to their destination with no problems. They passed a multitude of others along the way, but none stopped them- there was no reason to.

A vaguely dark, hexagonal shape loomed before them, set almost invisibly against the eerie background. It was outlined by pinpoints of a green light a brighter shade than either the shape or the background. This was it- the portal. Gliding up to it, one of them ran a slimy, ectoplasmic tentacle along the perimeter, stopping when it felt a resistance. Slowly, it followed the ridge until it came to a hook-like structure. Twisting deftly, it managed to find the tiny fissure embedded in it- the opening. Signaling to its partner, they both wrapped a tentacle around the hook and, it appeared, pulled on the count of three.

The girl rolled her eyes as she watched them, fixing the blue hair that framed her face like embers of fire. Sometimes the animaloids were just so dumb. It looked like they were caressing the air or something. Even the humanoids weren't that bad. Pity, humans like her had to deal with it. It was bad enough that worthless hunter had taken a liking to her, now this stunt?

She was about to fly over and admonish them, when suddenly the area… glowed. And not the normal green glow of home, but an almost blinding, white glow that called to her, begged her to follow it. She silently drifted over, as the two ecto-beasts slipped through. She caught sight a silver room, filled with desks and cabinets, and shiny metal instruments, and… were those… people? Living people? She made to follow them, but something pulled her back. Fear?

Disappointed, she turned on her heel and flew back toward one of the myriad of doors, gripping the handle. She lived so close to that thing- whatever it was- and a vague idea was forming in her head as to what lay beyond it.

She knew that the beasts were too dumb to even figure out where the window was, let alone how to open it. So it might pay to visit whoever had sent them. And there were very few ghosts in the ghost zone who had the smarts to find it, and even less who would send minions and formulate a scheme.

She'd need time, and a plan, before she stormed out into, what she believed to be, the future.

Delicious… so cold… so much more out here… breathe in, it's there… exhale… breathe in more …

Swim closer to the heartbeats, more and more… light and… alive… so very alive…

Promises kept… he said it was better… than ever before… my mind… works… faster… more words than home… more food…

Touch… pure ecstasy… intoxicating… fills from… tentacle… to head… swimming in the… ectoplasm… drinking it in… until my thoughts fall into place… so much more… fluidly… they come… so clear…

Purpose… purpose… purpose… must come here… more often… must come… must stay… must make more… more… more…

Fear.

Man, they love these stories so much. Probably almost as much as I love them. Whenever I start telling a story, I always get lost in it. I love telling stories, and just talking and talking and talking, and everyone loves to hear it, so I guess we all win. In fact, I got that from my Pa, back when I was a kid… he'd always talk for hours and hours, and I'd listen and.. well… I actually don't remember if I liked them or not… and I still resent the horse-meat issue…

But anyway, those kids love to hear me talk. In fact, they inspired me- the way they felt the tales so strongly they shook with thrill, or panted with vicarious exhaustion- that I found my calling… or my other calling, at least… lecturing. I could totally imagine myself lecturing in a great hall, all those studious, er, students lining up and sitting in their seats just to hear me blather and yak. I've always prided myself on being loquacious to a fault. But those youngsters, with their wild eyes, and their half-hearted facades covering up the fact that they actually did want to hunt ghosts, I've never felt so cool.

And man, do I have stories to tell, they could sit for days and never get anywhere near half-way through. In fact, I have a funny story about that-

"Honey! The Cookies are ready!"

Oh boy, I love Maddie's cookies!

"Coming honey-bun!"

Power; On

SysCheck; Functioning

AutoResponse; Welcome to the Fenton Finder.

Mode; User activate SECRET for Privileged access

Process; Analyzing.

Subject One; Analyzing; Detected: Heartbeat, Body Temperature- 98.657 degrees Fahrenheit; Conclusion: Adult Human Male, Irrational tendencies; Action: Ignore

Subject Two; Analyzing; Detected: Heartbeat, Body Temperature- 97.896 degrees Fahrenheit; Conclusion: Adult Human Female, Humoring tendencies; Action: Ignore

Subject Three; Analyzing; Detected: Heartbeat, Body Temperature- 97.991 degrees Fahrenheit; Conclusion: Mid-Adult Human Female, Mental capacity large, underdeveloped; Action: Ignore

Subject Four; Analyzing; Detected: Heartbeat, Body Temperature- err- Body Temperature- err- Body Temperature: 90.556; lowest accepted Human body temperature: 95.001 degrees Fahrenheit; Conclusion: Err- Abnormal, steady pulse, abnormal body temperature- Running diagnostic

SysCheck: Functioning

Subject Four; Conclusion: Abnormal species; Class. Homo Sapien, Plasma Humanoid; Class. Human-Ghost; Class. Abnormal. Action; Investigate.

AutoResponse; A ghost is near.

Process; Found; analyzing external terrain; Directing

AutoResponse; Walk Forward.

Analyzing External Terrain

Subject Four Located. Abnormality Located.

AutoResponse; Ghost Located.

AutoResponse; Thank You for using the Fenton Finder.

ShowRun: Time elapsed

Startup: .0592905 sec

InitialAnalysis: 1.425 sec

Diagnostics: .8208 sec

Directing: 13.104 sec

Approx. Total Elapsed Time: 15 sec.

SysCheck: Functioning

AutoRepair: No

Power: idle

I'm not exactly sure why I did it, after all, those two ectopusses are not renowned for their communicating skills (no ghost that's less than a humanoid is), but what they were talking about… they could not have made it up. They seemed much stronger, much more fluent, as if they were thinking clearer… I had to check it out.

It looked like any other normal section of the ghost zone; a bit empty, yes, and with a slight dark spot, but other than that it was extraordinarily… unassuming.

But then I felt it. My domain is over food, my specialty is meat. Nothing had ever bothered me before; my life felt very routine, in fact, and I had never felt so vaguely upset before. But something was just… 

off. It felt like the walls of "usual" I had carefully and determinedly built, protected and minded over the years were under attack- a tiny little crack, but one that might undermine my whole world.

The dark area called to me, my emotions almost… feeding it, in a way. As a large, steel window materialized, I felt very drained. But I forced the door open anyway, stepping outside.

The glut of senses and emotions was overwhelming, especially after I had drained myself opening it. I had no idea- and still am not totally sure- how the whole thing occurred- occurs, really. But I do know that ghosts feed off of senses… and don't produce much of our own. I've pieced it together since the first time I got out- once ghosts are "living" in the ghost zone, our senses our dulled- as if there's not a lot of food available, and all of it is very bland. Occasionally, some salt and pepper are thrown in when ghosts fight- usually that blue-haired miscreant and the hunter (their names escape me) and produce anger. And so we get used to it, the way one living with only bread and oatmeal gets used to living without spices.

And then… then… when you open that door… every delicious sauce and spice ever discovered floods your taste buds. Oregano, garlic, basil, barbeque, mesquite, honey, lemon, lime, slow roasting, marinating… all trying to shove themselves down your throat at once. But you've lived fifty, a hundred, a thousand years without them, and you can't handle the aromatic… fragrant… sensations…

Oh me, dearie, I'm sorry. I've gone off of a bit of a tangent. Back to my story; I had opened the portal that the beasts had spoken about. After the initial overwhelming tumult, I knew exactly what was wrong- it was crystal clear for some odd reason. I knew, without a doubt, that someone had changed the menu. I could not have said which menu, or how exactly, but I let my instincts take over, and my body guided me right to where the change had taken place.

And more than just the menu had been changed. For the first time since becoming a ghost, I felt… almost… obsessive. I had one goal, one purpose in mind, and nothing could shock me out of that state- nothing. Not even what I encountered next.

A young boy with black hair and blue eyes, very skinny, very pale, was a half-ghost. I'd encountered someone who could walk in both worlds! Though it was a thrill to meet such an unusual child, I could not overcome the rage inside me- somehow, being in the human realm had magnified the feelings that had been repressed for so long. Thankfully, he brought me to my senses before I could do any real damage.

The irony was, of course, that he caught me, a food-loving ghost, in a measly little soup thermos. I haven't the slightest clue as to how, of course. And I still feel angry at him whenever my emotions rise. I guess it would take someone with more worldly knowledge than me to understand.

Still… a half ghost, half boy… a halfa if you will. I never thought I'd die to see the day…

Ah well, who's hungry?

Sydney Poindexter was a pretty impressionable kid. He spent most of his days stuck as a freshman in the 50s zone (the whole 'ghosts don't age under normal circumstances' thing had really screwed him over in terms of the whole puberty deal), and his nights listening to stories told by other, generally amicable ghosts, like Desiree (being dead had certainly not stifled his hormones).

But the greatest tale he had heard so far had been that of the halfa- 'halfa' ghost, 'halfa' boy. A kid like that could really do some good- could protect guys like Sydney, who were the constant target of bullies.

Even ghosts need heroes, as Sydney knew. Most ghosts in the ghost zone weren't even that bad. Sure, they liked to stay angry to feed off of each other, but most were generally content living their lives. Johnny liked to take his girl Katherine for rides on his super-spiffy motor-bike, Desiree enjoyed lounging around in her Arabian lair, Ember loved rocking out to her favorite riffs , Skulker loved hunting prey on his island, Youngblood loved to play pretend… he could go on and on about all the acquaintances he'd made in the Ghost Zone. The point being, ghosts were not the monsters hid mother had told him about when he was still alive.

And ghosts, being good guys themselves, needed heroes too. And a butt-kicking halfa might just be just what the doctor ordered- a guy to make Ms. Spectra leave him alone, to stop all the other kids from teasing him… to make his home just a bit more nifty.

His mind wandered, back to his locker at school. Everyone always said it was haunted, that it was connected to the one he'd had back when he went to school at Casper High. What if… what if he didn't need to find that smudgy portal-thingie that Lunchie was talking about?

Something to ponder…

A/N: Woah! A new chapter! -blinks in shock- I'm really sorry I've been so dead lately, guys. But I've been on a writing kick lately, so... here it is! -tada-

Okay, some info- yes, Danny and his friends were barely in here, and I didn't really report much on what they did (at all, really). But I find it much more interesting to think about what was going on behind the scenes during this time, since we already know what Danny did. I mean, I could have made this 20 pages long, and included Dash's, Jazz's Spike's, Mr. lancer's, the Cafeteria Lady's (etc) point of view... but honestly, I have about a 0 percent attention span. XD

Remember, this was also a momentous occaison for the ghosts in the ghost zone. I wanted to explore the whole 'portal' thing, and how it changes them. I don't think ghosts are necessarily evil- but the Lunch Lady got it right.

And that last section is a setup for the next chap (obviously). Plus, we have some new plots that will serve as background plots later (squee! I'm intertwining plots! I usually suck at that!). I'm going to try to resolve the continuity issue in the series.

And, as stupid as it seems, my fave thing to write was the Fenton Finder. I took a CISCO comp./router programming class, and got the layout idea from that. The words that are all stuck together (and the word SECRET for password) are from that. :)

OH! Before I forget- I have a poll up in my profile, I'd really appreciate if you took the time to vote, 'cause I have some ideas for a new story/parts of new stories, and need feedback (I'm horrible at writing pairings- dreadful- so I need to know what the genral concensus is).

Right, shutting up now. :)

UA