There's a move reference here. It's a bit obvious, but yeah.

TweenisodeOrange: Haven't heard his voice, but judging by TV Tropes, I think you have the right idea. Thanks for reading!

Zim'sMostLoyalServant: I enjoy writing those two. :) Thanks for the review!

OwlheadAthena: We shall see, my friend, we shall see... Thanks for reviewing!

aslan333: Let hijinks ensue! :D Thanks very much!

SOLmaster: Oh, Timmy might not be quite as glad as you are... :] Thanks!

Chapter Three: In Which There Is A Montage

The gym at the Lindbergh Elementary was full again. It had been two nights since the auditions, and the cast had been divided into two halves – those who were playing colonists, and those who were playing soldiers.

"Alright, children…nonchildren," grinned Principal Willoughby, standing in front of the gathered cast, "You'll be in two groups for the next few weeks. Colonists, you'll be rehearsing with Mr. Bickles and myself."

He turned to the other group.

"You guys," he added, "Need special rehearsals to learn how to be soldiers – so we hired someone who knows how to make them!"

There was the sound of boots on the hard floor. A large man marched into the room, wearing a military uniform, a drill sergeant hat…and a very unhappy expression.

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Hoffmann," introduced Willoughby, "I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine."

Timmy groaned.

Timmy stood in a line with the rest of the soldier cast. The Gunnery Sergeant strode in front of them, glaring angrily at them.

"Well, ladies!" he snapped, "I can say without a doubt that you are the scrawniest, flabbiest and ugliest recruits I've seen in my thirty years in the Corps!"

"Gee, thanks," whispered Timmy.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" bellowed the Sergeant, marching over to Timmy's position.

"Uh…sorry?" gulped Timmy.

"Sorry?" snapped the Sergeant, "I do not accept apologies from my recruits, do you understand, private?"

"Uh…yeah," nodded Timmy.

"You obviously do not!" growled the Sergeant, "Now address me like I'm your commanding officer, crud-for-brains!"

"Sir, yes sir!" shouted Dash, anxiously snapping to attention.

"That is right," shouted the Sergeant, marching down the line, "From now on, the first and last words out of your mouths will be sir! Now drop and give me fifty – now!"

As Timmy began his (rather poor) push-ups, he made a mental note to kill Jimmy.

"Okay," announced Mr. Bickles, pacing the backstage area, "Today we're going to try out your vocal ranges, see how well you can keep a tone."

"So we're gonna be doing opera?" asked Spongebob.

"No," snapped Mr. Bickles, somewhat indignantly, "Opera is an art. This will just be some people saying 'aaah' in different tones."

"But that's what opera is, ain't it?" quizzed Sandy.

Mr. Bickles fought the urge to cry.

"Okay, we'll start on a high tone," he sighed, "One three. One…two…three!"

The evening news later reported that windows were broken twelve miles away.

"Crawl, you maggots!" bellowed the Sergeant, "Under the wire! Go!"

"Hey, Timmy?" quizzed Chester, who was crawling through the dirt next to him, "You sure this is safe?"

"We'll be fine," replied Timmy, shrugging.

They were crawling under barbed wire over a dirt pit…underneath a flamethrower.

Rehearsals had now been ongoing for a week, and the trainee actors and actresses were just leaving Lindbergh Elementary. Spongebob was preparing his recaller to take him home, when Sandy walked up to him.

"Hey, Spongebob," she called, "Y'all wanna practice at my place?"

"Uh…I dunno, I was gonna go through my sock draw," replied Spongebob, slightly nervously.

"Oh, c'mon!" urged Sandy, "Your sock draw can wait until tomorrow, can't it?"

Spongebob felt another surge of confidence, similar to the one he'd had at the audition.

"Yeah…yeah it can," he grinned.

"Come on, platoon, up the wall!" bellowed the Sergeant, "Move, move, move!"

Timmy struggled up the brick wall, just barely making it before face-planting over the other side. He struggled onwards down the course, reaching the pull-up bar.

"Come on, private! One for the unit!" bellowed the Sergeant, striding in front of Timmy.

Timmy wheezed as he tried to pull himself up. His efforts were, ultimately, futile.

"What in the name of…are you telling me that you cannot lift your own weight?" thundered the Sergeant, "Drop and give me some push ups!"

"Sir, how many, sir?" asked Timmy, getting to the ground.

"Until I get bored!" thundered the Sergeant, "Now get moving!"

Spongebob and Sandy walked to the door of the Treedome, having spent the evening practicing.

"You're gettin' better," complimented Sandy, "Gotta admit, I never figured you could act."

"It's all thanks to the cloak," replied Spongebob, grinning at the garment in his hands, "That guy in the suit was telling the truth when he said it helped."

"Whatever ya say, Spongebob," nodded Sandy, crossing her arms, "So, same time tomorrow?"

"I'm in," grinned Spongebob, "See you tomorrow!"

He walked outside and took in the night sea. That cloak had done wonders for his confidence, and he was sure that he was going to do just fine in this play.

Heck, maybe he'd wear it to work tomorrow – he never knew when he might need it…

Jimmy walked into his lab, humming to himself as he walked up to the VOX computer. He stopped as he saw someone sitting on his chair.

Timmy was sitting on the chair, holding his Starflinger close to him.

"This is my Starflinger," he was whispering to himself, "There are many others like it, but this one is…"

"Bad time at rehearsal?" asked Jimmy.

"That wasn't 'rehearsal'," snapped Timmy, "That was boot camp."

Jimmy gave a sympathetic smile, and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," he reassured, "You're only there to make sure that suited guy doesn't do anything to Spongebob. Once this play's over, you're done."

Timmy gave a small smile.

"You found anything out about that guy yet?" he asked.

"No, Danny and I haven't been able to find him," shrugged Jimmy, "He's illusive, I'll give him that…"

Danny was racing back from his nightly patrol, trying to reach Fenton Works before his curfew. He had had a long evening – some ectopusses had been set loose at the Amity Park DMV, and he'd had to round them up.

He was just flying over an apartment building when he noticed a familiar figure on the roof. Diverting his course, he landed on the rooftop.

"Bit late for you to be hanging out up here, isn't it?" he demanded.

The Man in the White Suit looked at him, and crossed his arms.

"Danny Phantom," he noted, "I do believe we need to talk…privately."

His eyes glowed red, and Danny instinctively made a defensive pose.

"I have a friend, boy," the Man sneered, "I think you know him…"

There was a gust of wind, and Danny blacked out.

This chapter was actually quite hard to write. :|