Chapter 3 *Late Night Visit*

After an entertaining movie of comedy, explosions, and more explosions, Danny had told his friends goodnight and flew home. While he'd flown over the small town of Amity Park he'd made a double-trip to make sure there were no paranormal threats. And so far, there wasn't. Although that cheered him up considerably, it wasn't a good sign. There was usually at least one ghost on the loose and seeking trouble, and the Box Ghost doesn't count.
Given how tired he was, he made a short trip of going home and flinging himself onto his bed, exhausted from the day's activities and surprises. Most unpleasant, but he didn't want to complain. Instead he closed his eyes and barely registered he was sleeping before he'd taken two breaths.

A banging awoke him. And yelling voices. Then the sound of his father's gasp, and a squeal (which also came from his father).

Danny couldn't tell whether he had been asleep for a few minutes, seconds, hours, but he bolted up anyway and ran out into the hall only to come face-to-wood with Jazz's door.

"Ow!" he griped on the floor where he'd fallen, bringing his hand to his forehead to find a good-sized bump, and most likely a bruise in the morning.

"Oh! Danny! Sorry, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? No concussion? How many fingers am I holding up?" Jazz yelped in a rush, shoving her hand in his face and further pushing his patience.

"None in a minute if you don't get your hand out of my face," Danny growled as he stood up and swayed a little. But the dizziness passed and Danny began to move past Jazz, but upon seeing her hurt expression, softened his glare and came back.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," he apologized quietly. He gave her a half smile, unsure if she would accept the apology.

Jazz looked him up and down, then smiled. "It's 'K." She took a step forward and gave him a hug before he could protest.

"Ack!" is all he managed.

When she receded she mussed his hair and winked. And then she headed toward the stairs without explaining.

"Huh. Okay," he whispered dubiously to himself. After he rethought what just happened he shook his head, but that only made a pounding in his head. A headache would soon follow, no doubt.

As he shuffled to the stairs he glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, a shadow move across Jazz's doorway. Danny took two steps back and slowly turned his head toward the figure. It was gone.

Certain his brain was playing tricks on him as a result of the hit, Danny sighed and ran the rest of the way downstairs.

It wasn't much better than being hit in the face with a door in the middle of the night. The Guys In White were throwing miscellaneous property around and rummaging through personal belongings, searching for something they were probably not going to find. They even blasted a few things to be sure whatever they were looking for wasn't inside.

"What the-? Mom? Dad?"

Jack and Maddie Fenton called their son into the kitchen. When he walked in, Jazz was already seated at the table looking outraged and Mrs. Fenton sat beside her, the same expression of hatred and annoyance. Maybe even more.

The only one who didn't seem aggravated at the break-in was Mr. Fenton, who was bouncing excitedly up-and-down with an excited grin.

"What's going on? What time is it?" Danny asked, already with his sister and mother on the situation. Anything involving the GIW couldn't be good.

"It's 2:30 a.m.!" Jack answered gaily, unceasing to stop jumping. He looked so overjoyed you might have thought he'd said they were going on a world-wide cruise.

"Great. . . Why are we happy?" Jazz said flatly, sinking in her chair to lay her head against the cool top of the table. She closed her eyes and began snoring softly only minutes after.

Danny looked at Maddie, Maddie looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Danny.

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not- oh, blast it! I'm it," Jack pouted. Jack stopped bouncing long enough to lift Jazz and carry her to her bedroom.

When he had left, Danny asked, "What are the Guys In White doing here?"
Maddie's irritated sulk came back and she slumped in her chair just like Jazz. "They have guts coming into the Fenton household! I almost took care of them with the Fenton Blaster, but your father stopped me before I could say, "Fire in the hole!" They think they can barge in and trash our stuff like nobody's business, but it IS somebody's business! Our business!" She pointed at herself for emphasis.

"But what are they doing here?" Danny asked again.

"Oh, they only said cell 375 was declared void and the rest is confidential. Wouldn't tell me a darn thing! Your father thinks it's the most exciting thing ever. The GIW are his heroes. If only he was into comic-book characters like all the young ones nowadays." She gazed off into the distance with a wistful expression. Danny got a little too weirded out on being stuck so deep in the conversation, so he began backing out into the living room. Sadly, the GIW were still ransacking the place and completely oblivious to Danny's presence.

"Hey," he said, trying to get their attention. They kept throwing things.

"Hey!" Still no response. He thought quickly.

"Code 194."

Both straightened up instantly and looked around with frightened eyes. One of them pulled out a strange looking machine, but Danny didn't want to take his chances that it was a harmless cellphone. "Where? Where! I'll blow it up! It won't get away this time!"

Danny gave a little look around, but saw anything. These guys really were weird.

"Yo, over here." Both Guys In White looked over at him, suspicious from whatever Code 194 meant.

"Just trying to get your attention. Guess it worked! Now, about why you're here. . . ?

They eased down at the fact that there was no Code 194 in action, but they remained as emotionless as always, their dark aviator glasses refusing anyone to see their eyes.

"Nothing. How about you let the men do the work around here, kid. We don't want you getting in our way." They resumed trashing the living room.
Danny was tempted to go ghost and let Danny Phantom teach them a lesson, but he knew that would be a stupid move. He'd just create another problem which could easily be avoided.

"He's not here," said Mr. White.

"Confirmed," said the other Mr. White.

Danny let out a breath. "Oh, good. You can be leaving now, then-"

"On to the next room." They started for the stairs.

"What? Wait, no!" Danny decided to stall. "What did you mean when you said cell 375 was declared void?"

In unison, they replied, "Classified information."

Not ready to give in, Danny pressed, "Then how am I going to tell you whether what you're looking for is here?"

They looked at each other. A silent agreement seemed to pass between them. "Indeed. Here's a picture of what the convict looks like presently. Ever seen him? He was tracked to this location."

They pulled out a small picture from his inside jacket pocket and held it up for Danny to see. Was that. . . Freakshow?

"U-um, no. Never seen him before."

He put the picture away. "If you do see him, contact us." He pulled out another hand-sized card and gave it to Danny. It was a blank, white card.

"Uh, what is this?"

"Mr. White here thought it'd be a good idea to to make everything in white." The other Mr. White turned to Mr. White with a slight frown, but it was gone before Danny could decipher whether it was real.

"Just call 123," Mr. White said.

"That's an actual number?"

"Confirmed." The other Mr. White brought out another hand-held machine from one of his dozens of pockets and checked it. It was beeping and a blinking red dot was moving quickly across the screen.

"He's on the move! Clear out!" Both Guys In White streaked out the door and were gone. The only evidence they had been there was the thoroughly trashed living room and blank, white card sitting in Danny's hand.

Freakshow had been here? How did he escape? For the third time? Then Danny reconsidered the authority that had kept him captive and admitted it wouldn't be that hard to get away. But still, what had Freakshow wanted?

All of these questions raced through his mind at top speed, making his head hurt worse. In the end he decided to sort it out in the morning with Sam and Tucker. Surely they would have some suggestions. When didn't they?

And while he was at it, Danny came up with a solution to "accidentally" hurt something or other, and let Tucker have all the glory in the play. Tucker would pounce on the chance to have his part back. Danny would tell him tomorrow.

Not even 10 minutes after he'd laid back down and closed his eyes, the phone went off. Then Maddie burst into the room and took his covers off.

"Hunnie, we're going to the hospital," she said sweetly.