AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Happy Halloween!
Here's my Halloween drabble for Shades of Grey, and, in keeping with the tone of TUE, it's pretty angsty.
But what were you expecting, lollipops?
Ha. Nice one.
DISCLAIMER: Butch Hartman owns Danny Phantom; I do not.
WARNINGS: None.
The October breeze was faint, gently pushing against Valerie as she propelled forward on her glider. It was a little more brisk than she had expected it to be tonight, but she supposed it would make perfect sense that cutting her hair would take away a good deal of warmth, the swarthy skin of her face and neck now fully exposed to the elements.
She wasn't wearing the helmet for this patrol. It had an irritating habit of blocking out any outside noises as of late; she supposed that after all these years, it was to be expected that Vlad's suit would begin to wear down.
She stole a glance downwards, at the empty, darkened streets. Even after all this time, she was still slightly unused to the vacant feel of it all; no laughing, shouting children donning tacky costumes and parading around for the sole sake of stuffing their mouths full of sweets, no jack-o'-lanterns lighting up the town's crowded streets, no wacked-out Fentons yelling at unsuspecting kids about ghost protection and whatnot.
And certainly no spirited Danny Phantom flitting around, making sure that his beloved Amity Park was safe from ghouls and ghost and nightmares galore.
Valerie bit her lip and stared ahead, scowling at the horizon.
Where's you beloved town now, Danny?