After his encounter with Poindexter, Danny decided to stop kidding himself and write the day off as a lost cause. He had already been reluctant to go to class following his impromptu photo session, and after the strange occurrence he had just witnessed there was absolutely no way he would be able to concentrate.
What was that strange light that had wrapped itself around Poindexter? Danny couldn't fathom it; it had not come from any natural source of light he knew of, shining brighter than the sun and forcing him to squint while he watched Poindexter fade into oblivion within its glow; he gazed down at the undone cummerbund clutched tightly in his hand, as solid and real as he himself. He couldn't help but feel as if he missed something, something important.
When he checked his cellphone, Danny found a message from Tucker promising to come over and help him prepare his assignment for shop class that evening. At least, Danny consoled himself, he had managed to accomplish something that day. With Tucker's help, he was sure to get a decent grade in the elective.
So it was with a numb brain but a lightened heart that Danny took to the air that afternoon, not knowing where he was going, but allowing his body to guide him forward.
It occurred to him as he drifted through the sky that he had not come across a ghost for quite a while. It seemed that everyone was hiding away; he could barely remember the last time he picked a fight with the Box Ghost.
Out of the misty clouds, his vision began to sharpen as he took in the sight of a large hill. Castle's Point was the highest location to be found in Amity Park, surrounded by jagged rock situated just below the overhang of the cliff. Were it not for the barricades that prevented cars from driving up its treacherous paths, it would surely be the most coveted destination for the teenagers of the town, the perennial make-out point for generations of high school sweethearts. Danny recalled with substantial mirth how he had chased after Johnny 13 when he had brought Jazz here, back in Danny's freshman year. Danny shook his head. God, he'd been a brat. But he had also been right.
Rather than situating himself on the grassy knoll at the very top of the cliff, Danny chose to land upon the rocky trail leading up to it, transforming back to his alter-ego. The walk would do him good. As his legs started forward, he began to ruminate once more on what had taken place in the annals of Casper High earlier that day.
If there is no place to hide, then we shall fight bravely, to the very end...
Danny unfurled his fingers and looked at the cummerbund, wrinkled and very, very real. He had seen it gain mass before his very eyes, change from the transparent state similar to Poindexter, take weight, become as corporeal as Danny himself. How could it be, and was it possible that Poindexter had met the same fate?
Danny crouched down upon the edge of the cliff, staring at the town that lay before him. His town. His to protect.
Except now he felt just as lost and confused as the rest of them. He thought of all the children, still enamored with the concept of living in a town with ghosts, real honest-to-goodness ghosts, spending recess running around, pretending to be Danny Phantom and the various ghostcatchers that had made a name for themselves over the years, tagging their friends and yelling that they were now trapped in the thermos and couldn't get out.
He thought of the older residents, parents, seniors and veterans; people who had come here to settle down, have a family, continue with their lives in peace, only to wake up one morning to the ugly truth that ghosts were real and that they were living in what was easily the most haunted town in the country. Scared mothers who sent their kids off to school, never knowing if they would receive a call that afternoon from the police saying that there had been another attack, another fight between Danny Phanotm and some random villain ... and that they regretted to say their son or daughter had gotten caught in the crossfire.
He thought of the people who went to work every morning, in Amity Park's business district, taking on the risk that the roof might collapse on them and the entire tower would one day come down – all because Danny had been too careless, because he had hurled some big brute out further than he meant to.
Then he thought of his peers, stuck in the middle. Kids who had been just as in love with the idea of Danny Phantom, fearless protector of Amity Park, as much as he had been, growing up into the cynical, snide, frightened people he saw in the halls today. Still in love with Danny Phantom, no doubt, but weary enough after four years of enduring these volatile conditions that they couldn't see past the idea of graduating and getting as far away from this accursed town as possible.
He didn't blame Sam and Tucker for their excitement over studying so far away. If he were anyone else, just a normal teenage boy who could see the exit sign looming directly ahead, he'd run for it as well. Their parents couldn't do anything about it, they were stuck; they had built their whole lives here and it would be too much trouble to uproot themselves now – hell, if Damon Gray hadn't had his reputation and entire livelihood stolen away from him, he would still be here, with his daughter, successful, whole, and utterly miserable. But the kids, Danny's friends and fellow students, they had no such bearings. They could get out, they had the option, and who was Danny to deny them that opportunity?
So he watched, he watched this town of his that was hanging on by a thread, and he thought about his failings and the duty he owed them. In the past few months, something had snapped within him, something had given up, collapsed. Danny Phantom had slowly been fading more and more into the background as the pressing issues of Danny Fenton's life began to take over. In all the confusion regarding his feelings for Sam, for Dash, his fears about college and the direction his life would take, he had forgotten the fact that he already had a future. While the others were busy trying to figure out their destiny, he had lost sight of the fact that his destiny had been handed down to him four years ago in the basement of his parents' house.
Now that he had resolved to start taking more control of his schoolwork and getting his life back in order, it was time for him to make the same pledge to the citizens of Amity Park. Never again would Danny Phantom forget his oath to protect them from harm as best he could.
As the sun began to sink over the horizon, Danny got to his feet, his nerves steeling with resolve. Taking three steps back from the edge of the cliff, he sucked in a large intake of breath, and then ran forward, and plunged off the edge.
The wind whistled in his ears as he hurtled down to the jagged rocks below. They were growing larger, acutely coming into focus. Keeping his eyes trained on the ground coming up to meet him, Danny willed himself to transform. Two rings of light formed around his body and moved in opposite directions, turning his hair white and his clothes black.
Just before he came crashing against the rocks, Danny Phantom curled his spine upwards, swinging upwards, feeling the tip of the largest rock brush lightly against his suit. He soared upwards, wide green eyes on the darkening sky, and then once again, tipped his body backwards, his arms going limp at his side, and his legs coming up to point at his hair flowing freely. As he did, the body twisted against the naked air, and he was rolling in one slow graceful loop all the way around. For one instant, the entire world was upside-down, and then he corrected himself , and moved straight, shooting forwards, back into the town below him.
...until the darkness swallows us whole.
Tucker was waiting for him inside the Fenton residence when Danny came home. He was sitting on a stool up against a counter in the kitchen, chatting enthusiastically to Maddie as she sliced the onions she had before her into little pieces.
"Hey man, where were you?" he asked when Danny walked in.
"I was dropping Sam off," he said breezily, the standard cover between the three friends when he didn't want to explain where he was in front of company. Tucker nodded in understanding.
"Dinner will be ready in less than an hour, boys," Maddie warned. "I don't want you to fill yourselves up on snacks beforehand."
"We won't, Missus F.," Tucker promised. "You know how much I love your sitr-fry beef."
Maddie smiled in response. Danny opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of soda. "Where's dad?" he asked.
"Your father's upstairs, going through some things for work," Maddie reported. "He's got a big day tomorrow."
Of course. Danny hadn't forgotten that little piece of news he heard between the two scientists at Axion Labs. The Guys in White would be interrogating his father tomorrow, and Danny intended to be there. It was only fair, as he had both his parents for moral support when the Guys in White had tried to drill him for answers. Wordlessly, he motioned for Tucker to follow him to his room.
"So what were you doing?" Tucker asked when he set the two glasses he had picked up from the kitchen on to the tabletop.
"Nothing, really," Danny turned to his friend. "I was at Castle's Point. I needed to think." He dug his hand through his jeans pocket and pulled out the black cummerbund. "Look at this."
Tucker inspected the item for a few moments. "What's that?" he asked intelligently.
Danny passed it over to him. "It belonged to Poindexter."
Tucker dangled the cummerbund between two fingers in distaste. "And he, uh, gave you this?"
"Not exactly," Danny said. "He left it on his locker. But look at it – feel it." Tucker brought the small tie closer to his face, as though searching for some inconspicuous flaw.
"You're gonna have to help me out here, Danny," he said flatly. "What is it I'm looking for?"
Danny rolled his eyes. Tucker really was so very profoundly dense sometimes. "It's solid!"
Tucker cocked an eyebrow. "I would expect so," he said. "I still don't see what's so great about it."
Danny sighed. He wasn't explaining this correctly. Of all the ghosts they had encountered in the past, Tucker and Sam were probably the least experienced with Poindexter. They knew of him, of course, having been the ones to excise him out of Danny's body during their first encounter, but Danny tended to forget that they weren't as knowledgeable regarding Poindexter as he was. Trading places with someone really served to make one intimately familiar with that person. After four years of dealing with various other ghosts, Danny supposed he could forgive Tucker forgetting small details like Poindexter's translucence.
"Nothing," he said. "Just ... nothing."
Tucker delicately placed the article of clothing down on Danny's desk. "So, you needed help with your assignment," he reminded. Danny stood up, rummaging by the corner of his bed until he pulled out a small wooden object. It was a simple clock with no particularly intricate designs, with two hands pointed at the 12 o'clock position. Tucker took it from him and narrowed his eyes as he surveyed it.
"Well, at least it's small," he said. "It shouldn't be too hard to do something up for it. When do you have shop class?"
"After lunch on Thursday," Danny informed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I'll have to get started on it tonight then," Tucker decided. "Even if I manage to do it up on time, I probably won't be able to give it to you till lunchtime on Thursday."
"That's fine," Danny waved his hand. "I'm really glad you're helping me out with this, Tucker. I really appreciate it."
"Hey," Tucker said, "I can't go off all around the country to learn how to take over the world without making sure my best friend is okay, can I?" He grinned. "Besides, I would do anything for your mom's stir-fry beef."
Jack was a notable absence at the table that night. Danny couldn't remember a time when the family sat down to dine together without his father at the head of the table chewing as though his life depended on it. He turned questioning eyes on Maddie, who smiled reassuringly back at him. "Your father is really busy tonight," she said. "Big day tomorrow." Danny didn't miss the way she wrangled her fingers together while she spoke, a dead giveaway that she was anxious.
Tucker kept his head down, chewing quickly and swallowing noisily, but his eyes darted back and forth between Danny and Maddie. The conversation remained stilted for the rest of the meal.
Afterwards, he and Tucker returned upstairs. They had offered to wash up after themselves, but Maddie had chased them away, insisting she would take care of it. Danny didn't put up a fight; he knew his mother needed a distraction tonight. Typically, the boys would indulge in a few video games up in Danny's room, but, Tucker reminded, he had to get home and start working on the clock Danny had given him. Danny couldn't remember the last time he had bothered playing video games either; the old console lay dusty and unused under the television set.
He tried to remember what it was that he and Dash would do all those nights in his room. That period of his life, though recent, meshed into one big blur in his memory now. As he led Tucker downstairs, he racked his brains trying to recall the details of the time they had spent together. He remembered the smoothness of Dash's skin as he trailed his fingers across the other boy's body; remembered the color of his ice blue eyes, wide and unblinking, as though he didn't want to miss a second of this. Danny felt a stirring in his crotch and forcefully pulled himself back into the present.
He was opening the door now, working automatically. Tucker moved to stand beside the car, and Danny stared dumbly at him for a moment before realizing Tucker expected Danny to drive him home.
He plucked his keys from the holder on the wall and unlocked the doors. Tucker placed the cumbersome clock in the backseat before sliding in. Danny revved up the engine and pulled away, glancing at the immobile while van occupying his usual space across the street
The two friends remained in silence throughout the duration of the ride, and when they arrived at the Foley residence, Tucker jumped out as though he couldn't get away quickly enough, pulling the wooden clock shell with him, and gave an awkward wave goodbye before walking up the path to his home with the object cradled in his arms.
Danny waited until Tucker closed the door. About a full minute later, the overhead light in Tucker's room clicked on, and Danny could see his silhouette against the curtains taking a seat at the large study desk, placing the clock down and carefully taking it apart.
Danny pulled back the top of his car and drove away, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair. He wondered where to go now; the new, responsible side of him knew that he ought to return home and spend the time remaining before bed with his books, preparing for finals, but he could not sit there and spend the night trying to ignore the burgeoning tension between his parents. The house was simply too stifling right now.
Once again, he acted automatically, allowing his mind to take over. He barely registered the direction he was headed, didn't notice the way the streets steadily grew wider, the fences taller, and the houses bigger as he neared the richer part of town. It was only when he passed by a familiar house with a hairline crack on the wall that he realized with a jolt that he had just past Paulina's place. Why the Sanchez family had not yet fixed up the damage caused by the ghost that rampaged past by during the girl's party, Danny didn't know, but he didn't spare much thought on it when he found himself driving past, further up the winding road. Even before he saw it, he knew where his car was taking him.
He had only seen Dash's house a handful of times before. In years past, he always tried to keep as far away from the other boy as possible, having seen enough of him in school to bother seeking him out of his own accord in addition to that. When Dash was assigned as Danny's mentor, they spent much of their time together locked in the Fenton residence, and when they slowly became friends, Dash would always meet Danny at some neutral location if not picking him up directly from his house. In fact, the last time Danny had visited the house was back in his freshman year, during an ill-fated party Dash had been twisted into inviting Danny to. It was just something that had never come up.
But here he was now, parked across the street and staring at the large brick house, his mind in turmoil. The Baxter residence was not as grandiose as the one owned by the Sanchez family. While Paulina's house was made of reinforced concrete, Dash's house seemed more humble with its construction of red brick; where Paulina's house grew a field of roses and carnations, Dash's yard exhibited only a patch of flat, freshly mown grass; and while the Sanchez topped their mansion with a large, half-circular balcony made of stone extending from the upper levels of the house, the Baxters' had only a modest square piece jutting out from what Danny assumed was the master bedroom, made from concrete and framed by a wrought-iron railing.
The clouds overhead moved then, revealing the full moon, lighting up the settings all around him. Danny could see the French doors that acted as windows, painted a pale yellow, and the sheer white curtains that fluttered behind them; he could see the dark green color of the front door; and just above it, in fancy black lettering, the word 'Baxter' pinned against the brick.
There were no lights on, no car in the driveway. Under the full moon and in between two orange streetlamps on either side, the house looked dead. Danny sat and watched, poking his head out the lowered window, his arms folded for his chin to rest on, staring at the house. He thought of the yearning he felt, almost every day, with almost every thought, for Dash. His absence in Danny's life consumed him; made him restless and uneasy. There had been no closure to the experience, no time to say goodbye, or 'I miss you', or even to yell at the jock for taking Lancer's cruel words to heart, for cutting Danny out of his life the way he did. As far as Dash knew, Danny was completely unaware of the speech the vice-principal had given; had he not run into the two of them at the Nasty Burger last weekend, Danny would have had no comprehension of the abrupt ending to his relationship with Dash, no reason as to why, and he loathed Dash for doing that to him.
His eyelids drooped, and with a melancholic sigh, he deflated. Dash was gone, and he had to face up to that fact. Sitting here, clinging on, would serve only to make him miserable. There were only a few scant weeks left in the school year; it would be easy to avoid Dash till then, and after that, everyone would go their separate ways ... and Danny would be alone again. That was the way things were. It was the natural order.
He saw a black Honda Civic roll into the driveway. The lights cut off, the engine died, and the door opened before a man with greying hair stepped out. Dash's father. The man was reasonably fit, even at his age; it was easy to see that he once been as fine a specimen as Dash was. He turned around and strolled down the driveway to check the mailbox, allowing Danny to see the thick white moustache that adorned his fair face. He tried to imagine Dash with a moustache, and smiled at the image.
Mr. Baxter was surveying the letters in his hand now and slowly making his way back to the dront door. Danny held his breath until the door clicked shut, the sound strangely amplified in the quiet night, then turned the key in the ignition and drove off.
When Danny arrived home, he found his mother had retired to bed, turning off all the lights except for one solitary source in the hallway. He closed the door behind him quietly and plodded up the stairs. He paused just outside his parents closed bedroom, noticing the sliver of light emanating through the crack. He raised his hand to knock, but paused when their low murmuring voices reached his ears. He couldn't make out what they were saying, only indistinct sounds, but it was enough to know that their marriage wasn't being shrouded in silence any longer. Since the interrogation, he had only heard a few necessary words from his normally boisterous father, and he hated it. He hated this stoic demeanor his father was developing, and he only prayed his mother could pull him out of its trap.
Danny read the words on his textbook numbly, but the words slipped through his mind like so much water through his fingers. He groaned, frustrated, rubbing his palms through his hair, and tried to focus. Every time he sat down to study, something always got in the way. The healing wound on his side throbbed as a reminder of the last time he failed to concentrate. Planting his elbows solidly on the surface of the table, Danny gripped his head and held it in place between both hands and resolutely read the words on the page. Then he read them again. And again. And again.
With a growl, he flung back in his seat. What was wrong with him? Right now, Tucker was hunched over his desk, feverishly working on Danny's assignment, just because Danny had asked for his help, because he needed more time to study for his other classes. Yet here he was, going through the motions once again, and unable to take anything in. His eyes drifted along the wooden desk, where the black cummerbund lay unperturbed by his dark thoughts.
Danny rubbed at his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. He gazed longingly at his bed, then back at his book. With study habits like his, he didn't deserve to go to college.
Bruised, broken, and feeling the hurt from his earlier sojourn to the Baxter house, Danny admitted defeat for another night, clicking off the lamp and clambering into bed, almost collapsing upon the welcoming sheets. As he felt the fringes of sleep creep up on him, he had just enough presence of mind to set the alarm clock on his cellphone to six in the morning; he didn't know when his parents would be leaving for work, but he intended to be there when the Guys in White came in to interview his father.
With that, Danny set his phone down, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep slumber.
The sun rose quietly the next morning over Amity Park. Danny rubbed at his eyes blearily, slowly coming back to life as the faint buzzing of his alarm clock seeped through his ears and into his mind. He rolled on to his back and faced the ceiling, breathing softly. Another day. Nimbly he pulled aside the comforter flowing off his bed, sitting up and placing his feet upon the cold floor.
He didn't spare a moment to think, throwing on his clothes then quickly sinking through the tile to land in the kitchen. Maddie was there, tossing eggs in a skillet mixed with mushrooms and diced bell peppers. Danny took in the bags under her eyes and her pale drawn face.
Jack came in then, looking none the better. Together the two of them sat at the table and silently chewed on their food. The newspaper they typically shared while they breakfasted lay unbidden several centimeters away. For some reason, this seemingly insignificant change in his parents routine struck the deepest chord inside Danny. Blinking hard, he left the kitchen, unable to watch anymore.
When he was outside the house, he raised his head and caught sight once again of the stationary truck across the street. Rage flared inside him, and he marched over to the vehicle. His breaths were labored and uneven, his heart raced, and his fists clenched so tightly that, were he not intangible, he was sure his fingernails would have broken the skin. He was about to do something – he wasn't sure whether he wanted to break in or simply blow the whole damn thing up with a blast from his hand – but came to a halt when a voice inside his head that sounded remarkably like Sam's ordered him to stop.
With great effort, he managed to lower his outstretched hand, just inches away from the doors. It would do no good to act recklessly now. He still wasn't sure if the van would be able to detect him if he snuck in in his intangible state, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to control the anger bubbling within him once he got inside. Clenching his teeth, he took a small, miniscule step back. Closing his eyes, he evened out his breathing and relaxed his shoulders, then straightened his spine and gazed at the leering van through half-lidded eyes.
One day. Just not today.
Jack and Maddie left for Axion early that morning, as Danny expected they would. He trailed above, his ghostly tail whipping the air behind him. It was only seven; hardly anybody would be in the lab; Danny doubted the Guys in White would come in so early either. When they entered the large working space Vlad had provided them, they immediately set down their briefcases and began rummaging through the various items. Jack pulled out a long roll of paper which, Danny found when he peeked over his shoulder, read like a checklist. He handed it over to Maddie, who had on her reading glasses. She, in turn, quickly strapped his arm to a moderately-sized beeping monitor with lots of dials that was set on the table. Jack took a moment to loosen up and turn his breathing shallow. Maddie observed the readings on the monitor, then turned back to the list.
"One Axion-brand Ghost Catcher," she intoned in a low voice.
"Present and accounted for," Jack stared blankly at the wall in front of him.
"One pair of Axion-brand Ghost Gauntlets."
"Present and accounted for."
"One Axion-brand Ghost Container."
"Location presently unverified."
Slowly Danny realized that they were running through the itemized list of inventions they had been commissioned to create for Axion Labs. The container, of course, was tucked away in Danny's room and currently held the spirit of Vlad Plasmius. Vlad must have separated his two halves using the Ghost Catcher stored within the bowels of the laboratory before trapping it within the container and giving it to Danny.
Maddie was still reading, and Danny tuned back in.
"One hazardous material ghost suit."
"Location presently unverified."
"One prototype Gen 2ecto-ray gun."
"Present and accounted for."
Danny bent over the table to get a better look at the device Jack was currently strapped to. His eyes flicked up to his parents, who were still speaking in calm, detached voices. This must have been some sort of a lie detector, Danny knew. Apparently, his parents expected Jack to undergo the same treatment when being interrogated later on. He rested his elbows on the table and watched in fascination as they made their way through the list. The number of inventions they had spent time creating was remarkable.
Eventually Maddie pulled off her glasses and unstrapped her husband. "Well, that's the end," she said. "You passed every question, so there shouldn't be too much to worry about."
Jack nodded quietly. He had his thinking face on, the one that told the rest of the world that his mind was occupied with one of his all-consuming thoughts. It was often confused with the face that expressed his need to go to the bathroom.
Maddie was packing away the various items strewn across the counter. With her back turned, she asked, "How's the eulogy coming along?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm stuck," he muttered. "Every time I try to think of what to say, I just get blocked."
Maddie straightened up and turned back to Jack. "Sweetheart," she said carefully, "if you don't think you can do it, you don't have to. We don't even have to go to the funeral if you don't want to. We can always arrange for someone else to handle it – Vlad's lawyers, or one of the men from the company, maybe even Mayor Stubbs…"
Jack was shaking his head adamantly. "No," he said. "He was my best friend. I've known him the longest; I should be the one to do it. I just … can't think of anything good to say about him right now."
The meaning of his words were loud and clear. Danny was unaware that his father had been elected to give the leading eulogy at Vlad's funeral. It made sense, Danny supposed. Hardly anyone could say they had known Vlad Masters on a personal level.
Maddie nodded, backing off. "Well, don't worry," she consoled. "The funeral's not till Friday. You have plenty of time."
Jack nodded, getting to his feet. The stool he had been sitting on screeched as its legs ground against the floor. "I think I'll work on it now. It'll help kill some time."
Maddie pulled off her black gloves. "I'm going to go out and get some coffee," she said. "I think we're both going to need it." Jack nodded in acknowledgement and hastily piled everything she had arranged into containers. He reached over to extract a loose sheaf of paper and a pen, and stared at it waiting for the words to come. When the door closed, signalling Maddie's departure, he dropped the pen, shifting so his elbows rested against the blunt edge of the tabletop and pressing his forehead against his upturned palms.
"Why, Vladdy?" he whispered to himself. "Why?"
Danny felt a lump in his throat. His heart went out to his father. He couldn't stand to see the older man looking so lost and forlorn.
You always love the ones you're with.
Maybe he couldn't be there for his father the way Jack had been for him the day he had been questioned by the agents. Maybe he couldn't support him the way Jack had always tried to whenever Danny was in trouble, or felt sad or betrayed. But he could show his solidarity in his own way. He could be with his father in spirit, and not in the way of some empty sentiment. Earlier that day, he had been overwhelmed, had chosen to run when he found his parents troubles too painful to deal with. He wouldn't do the same this time. So while the Fenton partriarch tried to compose himself, Danny sat down on a chair positioned in one corner of the room and waited with him.
He wouldn't be running away this time.
In the early afternoon, the Guys in White came. There was a change in the air, a crackling of tension so tangible Danny could almost smell it. A troop of them stormed down the corridors, charging to their next target. In the middle of this group was an black man of considerable age, with heavy lines sunk into his skin. He skulked slower than the rest and with more purpose. While the younger men who flanked him shot down any bystanders with pointed glares, he stared straight ahead, only darting his eyes to take in his surroundings. When the younger men threw open the door and barked at Maddie Fenton to get out so that the could begin their interview with her husband, he stepped forward calmly and gave her a smile.
"Missus Fenton," this man said, "it's a pleasure. I am Agent Pelham – director of the Guys in White." He took her wrist in his and raised it to his lips.
Maddie was quite obviously taken aback by this behavior. She gaped down at him as he kissed her hand in greeting, a hand upon her heart. Jack watched stonily in the distance.
"I'll take it from here, gentlemen – no need for bright lights, we're not lookin' to blind nobody," he said to two men who were setting up a large stand with an oversized filament bulb attached, "in fact, I think it would be more comfortable if we just dimmed the lights a little bit. Nobody here's on trial." He glanced over at Jack. When the men escorted Maddie out of the room, they left the two of them – and Danny – in relative darkness.
Agent Pelham took a seat across from Jack, letting out a little sound as his body settled into a sitting position.
"This old thing ain't what it used to be," he commented to Jack.
Jack didn't respond. His arms were folded, and there was a murderous glint in his eye. As far as he was concerned, this man was his enemy. Pelham didn't appear the least bit disturbed by this hostile welcome. He simply reached up to his face, and proceeded to do something Danny had never seen another agent do before. He slipped off his sunglasses, and set it on the table, and didn't look at it again.
Agent Pelham leaned back in his chair and gazed at Jack. "You smoke?" Jack didn't reply. Pelham pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. "You mind if I do?"
"I'm ready to take the test whenever you are," Jack said loudly.
Pelham's eyes slid over to the lie detector sitting further along the table. "What, that thing?" He held the cigarette between his lips and flared up his lighter. "What makes you think I'd want-a use that?" He blew out a puff of smoke and studied Jack's defensive form.
"You know, being director of the division affords me certain liberties no one else gets to enjoy," he told Jack. "For example, I get to come into the office at eleven in the morning after enjoying a nice hot shower and good hearty breakfast that my maid fixed up. While I walk to my office, one man comes up besides me and carries my briefcase, and another comes up the other side and tells me what they all been up to since I been away." His voice had a light airy drawl to it, and Danny had to admit, the man had his charm. "When I get to my office, I sign a few papers they give me. If I feel so inclined, I have one of them read it out to me, word for word.
"Around twelve, I call someone to come with me to lunch. Usually it's the missus, but – sometimes I like to change it up; sometimes I call up one of my buddies from another division of the FBI, and we go out and make fun of the CIA; sometimes, I call up one of my men who's been doing a good job impressin' me lately – they always like that; and every so often, I get a call, and I go over to the White House and dine with the President of the United States." He gave his shoulders a slow, deliberate shrug and pursed his lips smugly.
"Afterwards, I go down to the park and take the long way back. When I get back to the office, I take off my coat, I sit in my chair, an' I look over the accounts and the budget and things like that," he waved his hand, "then I go watch the newest episodes of The Simpsons until someone comes along with something they need my signature on. And then, I'm out at four, enjoyin' a leisurely ride back to my home – 'less I choose to have someone drive me back. It's a good life. But when someone asks me what's the best part of it all, you know what I say?" he fixed Jack with a serious look, then allowed a slow, satisfied grin to emerge on his face. "I say the best part is bein' a black man with a white maid."
There was a moment of terse silence. Jack unfurled his arms, and sat up straighter. "Well, you know what I say?" he asked solemnly. "I say you're the kind of drain on the economy this country doesn't need."
"But you're not," Agent Pelham countered. "No, you're a very important person. You doing good work, protectin' this town. You bringin' ghosts to the forefront, bein' a leader in this here market. 'Course, most people don't believe in it. You a big fish in this town, and you doin' good work, but out there, outside your little town, out in the rest of this good green earth, people think you're cracked." He leaned closer against the table, eyes still on Jack. "But we know better, don't we? We both know the kind of work that needs to be did before we c'n save the world."
He pulled back, resting against the back of the chair again. "Which leads me to the next part-a my story. When my men told me they gonna interview Jack Fenton, I said to them, I said, 'Boys, you can stand down. I always wanted to meet Jack Fenton.' So they flew me down here on the President's private jet, and now here I am, talkin' to you." He gave Jack a fatherly smile. "I gotta say, everythin' I got goin' on in my life right now, I owe it to you. If not for you and your 'crackpot' ideas, I wouldn't be havin' this job I got right now. And that's why I want to help you."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Help me," he echoed skeptically.
"Let me tell you a story," Pelham sucked on his cigarette, taking two steady puffs before blowing out the smoke, "once upon a time, there was a little company tryin'-a make a name for themselves in a market that didn't hardly exist yet. Their product? Microchips. In order to survive the initial stages, this company relied on two goals: cheap production and high sales numbers."
In the darkness of the room, Danny could hardly see the two men, only their glimmering eyes and the burning tip of Pelham's cigarette.
"In order to meet this goal, the company decided to take their wares some place they had never been before – Vietnam. Now, as you can imagine, those Commies didn't take too well to American corporations trying to operate in their country. It would only be three years later when the two of them would open trade relations for the first time since the war. An' in those three years, this little company of ours found that thoseVietnamese folk … well, they ain't like our folk."
Pelham took another puff of his cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke away from the direction of Jack's face.
"First of all, these Commies – well, they can't read very good. Mos' of 'em, back in the day, they farmers. But, rather than curl up an' die, they decided to take advantage of the situation. For, you see, them Commies were different from Americans in one other important way: whentheir government tell them to do somethin', they sit down an' do it. Imagine. That ain't like our way, now, is it, Jack?" Pelham gave Jack a hard look.
"So, rather than fight the government not wantin' 'em, our little company here, they decide to work with them instead. They go up to 'em, an' they say, 'We can make your farmin' better!' An' the government says, 'Well, how you gon do that?' So our little company here, they go on and they build themselves a website, a website that shows these farmers the crop prices on a day-to-day basis. An' then, they go ahead and build that website up some more with maps that show land boundaries, an' Jack, I tell ya, you would not be-lieve how much fightin' those land boundaries would cause our own Commie friends before. Nex' thing you know, they sell themselves one thousand computers along with those chips-a theirs."
Pelham's cigarette dangled loosely between his fingers. "Then our Commie friends say, 'Well, you good – but how good are you?' An' our little company tells them back, 'We here to change the way you live.' The nex' target, like I told you, was makin' sure these Vietnamese folk learn how to read." He leaned forward once more, locking eyes with Jack.
"Now tell me, Jack, you got any idea who our little company grew up to be?" Jack said nothing. "It's Intel, Jack. Our little company is Intel. Fas'-forward few years later, an' they got the government eatin' out of the palm of their hands. Anythin' they want, they get. And in return? They agree to bring our fine Commies into the modern era. Now, these Vietnamese farmers are sennin' their children to school with fancy computer labs. An' when they come home, they goin' on their own personal computers at home usin' that wifi. Throw out your back hoing your fields? Well, their hospitals got computers too. And so do their universities, cafes, and soon, every finger-lickin' KFC in the land!" Pelham's voice went lower now, more threatening. "And all they had to do was realize that their goals, and the government's goals weren't so different after all. You understand what I'm sayin', Jack?"
There was no mistaking the underlying message. The story, along with the change in Pelham's demeanor, left Danny cold.
"Let me spell it out for you, Jack," Pelham was saying, "you been fightin' my boys ever since we heard of your lonely town four years ago. An' since then, we been getting' bigger, stronger – better. We even got our own ghost-portal now—"
"The designs of which you ripped off from my house," Jack interjected. Pelham gave him a disparaging smile.
"Like I said, everythin' I got, I owe to you." He stubbed out his cigarette on the large table between them. "You and I, we want the same things here, Jack. We want-a bring ghosts to the attention of the world, we want-a help people protect themselves – just like how you want-a protect your pretty little town. Fightin' us – it's senseless. You're not goin' to win anything standin' in our way, Jack. All you're doing is hurting the people out there, people who will hear the information we give them an' know, this is Jack Fenton's work. I owe my life, and my children's lives, to Jack Fenton."
Danny felt the anger he'd quelled from earlier that morning rise up inside him again. Jack's eyes narrowed.
"You're wasting your time," he told Agent Pelham. "There is nothing that I would do to sell my family out. Especially not to you."
There was a loud knock on the door before it was pushed open, flooding the room with light again. Danny whipped his head around in alarm. An agent stood at the doorway with only his burly outline visible. "Very sorry to disturb you sir," said a familiar voice, "but we have an issue that needs your attention."
Pelham's eyes returned to Jack's. "I'll leave you to think about what I just said." He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and allowed the other agent to lead him outside. Danny spared one last glance for his father before following suit.
"What is it, M?" Pelham questioned. Danny recognized the agent who had interrupted the interview between the director and his father as the same one who had grilled him at the police department Monday afternoon.
"Sir, it's regarding our base unit in Washington," Agent M said. "We have been unable to get in contact with Belgrave at the bureau. If you recall, we placed him in charge of subject #60287—"
"M, now, you know I can never remember all those codes," Pelham said. "Make it simple for me. Who exactly are we talking about?"
M sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. "The albino, sir."
The two men stood stock still for a minute, staring at each other. Then Pelham let out a loud swear, slapping a hand across his thigh.
"Have all units convene at the regular meeting place. Where is Agent K?"
"At the hospital, sir," M informed.
"I want you to drive down there and pick him up. Let him know that you're coming and that he is to wait for you. Spread the word around. Code red."
"Yes, sir!" Agent M gave a quick salute, then rushed off to fulfill the director's orders. The panic-stricken director returned to the darkened lab room.
"Fenton," Pelham's voice had lost all trace of its airiness, and was now rough and demanding. "You're free to go. But I trust you would remember this conversation of ours, won't you?"
Jack was confused, but didn't question it. Danny could see the relief written on his face as he hastened to get away from the older man. Pelham pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket, swiping it against his brow.
"Good Lord," he muttered to himself. "Good Lord."
Danny was thunderstruck. Just who was this albino they were talking about? Just one mention, and Danny had seen this proud, haughty man crumble into a mass of nerves. Pelham didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave just yet, sitting down shakily on Jack's recently vacated chair. Danny decided he would follow Agent M on to the hospital and then to the Guys in White meeting place.
Taking one last look at the quivering man, Danny walked quickly, making sure to never lose sight of Agent M's figure. M jumped into a white van left on the laboratory's parking lot and quickly steered out. Danny rose to the sky and followed him.
After several minutes of reckless endangerment, Agent M came to a screeching halt outside the hospital. M blasted on the horn impatiently just as Danny came in for a landing before the automatic doors leading in to the emergency ward. M let out a litany of curse words, obviously displeased Agent K wasn't waiting for him like he'd ordered. He pounded at the vehicle's horn again, blatantly ignoring the signpost advertising for quiet.
Frustrated, M jumped out of the car, teeth bared and arms swinging by his side, swearing under his breath as he passed Danny by. Danny followed closely behind until they reached the receptionist's table. Danny was gratified to find the same woman there as the one he had come across during his trip to Amity General as well. She was sure to give the man trouble.
"Where is Agent K?" M barked as soon as he reached the counter.
"Please get to the back of the line, sir," she replied without raising her head from the forms she was currently working on.
"I said," M leaned closer to the window, "where is Agent K?"
"And I said to get to the back of the line, sir," she replied in the same level tone, unfazed by his rudeness. "There are other patients waiting to be served."
"Forget it," M gritted out. "I'll find him myself."
"If you wish to visit a patient, you'll have to register on the logbook."
M exhaled loudly, but pulled out a pen from the depths of his coat pocket.
"Visitors are only authorized to sign in on the logbook using one of the pens provided by hospital staff, sir," the nurse informed him blithely.
"What the hell kind of a stupid rule is that?" M snapped.
"It helps us keep track of who's coming and going," she said. "If you want to visit your friend, you'll have to use a pen from the hospital."
"Where is my friend anyway?" he sneered. "No doubt visiting his little boyfriend."
"Hospital staff are only authorized to provide information on the whereabouts of patients after visitors have signed in on the logbook," the nurse replied.
"Fine," Agent M acquiesced. "Get me a damn pen then."
"You'll have to wait, sir," she told him. "I don't have a pen."
Agent M stamped his foot in rage. "You're using a fucking pen right now!"
"This is my pen, sir," she said. "I need it to do fill out these forms so that I can help all these people who are standing in the line."
"Then go get me another one," M gritted out slowly.
"You'll have to wait, sir," she turned back to her paperwork. "I'm serving the gentleman behind you right now."
Danny was bursting at the seams. Only the fear of being heard helped him keep his laughter silent. Once the nurse handed back the form to the elderly man behind M, who made sure to grind his elbow into the agent's side as he passed, she rose up to leave the room.
"Where are you going?" Agent M demanded in alarm.
"I'm going to find you a pen, sir," she told him before leaving. Danny seized this opportunity to dive behind the counter and check out her computer, taking care to ensure that the agent couldn't see him moving the mouse or typing on the keyboard. M was busy glaring at a wall to his side, so Danny returned to the monitor before him. As he suspected, the patient records were laid bare for him to examine. Scrolling upwards, he searched quickly for Saturday's intakes. Soon enough he found the names of two operatives who had been admitted, one of whom was Agent O, K's longtime partner.
The heard the sound of shuffling feet and quickly scrolled back down to the page the nurse had originally left her records on. Maintaining his invisibility, Danny quietly made his way out.
"Finally!" he heard M grunt.
"If you wish to sign in on the logbook, you'll have to stand at the back of the visitors line, sir."
Danny smirked when he heard M's aggravated cry upon noticing the long line of people waiting for their turn to sign in the guestbook.
Walking through the fourth floor, Danny couldn't help feeling the grey-spackled walls lining the corridor grow more oppressive as he passed further along. The dim fluorescent lights placed intermittently along the lane grew more sparse and further apart the deeper he went. Shadows played off the doors, counters, trolleys and various other paraphernalia that dotted the otherwise bare surroundings. The floor was almost unnaturally silent. Danny failed to see a single nurse around the area. The entire floor seemed almost abandoned.
Finally, he found himself at a row of rooms that ran along a wall. The doors were left open with little light, dimmer than the ones fixed out in the hall, shining down upon the beds. Cautiously, Danny stepped into one of the large rooms.
Unlike the livelier environment of the floor in which Kwan had been placed upon being admitted into the hospital, this one radiated a sense of foreboding. There was not a single soul stirring. It was almost as if this place had been left forgotten.
Danny approached the bed closest to the door and observed the ashen face of the unmoving man who lay on it. His thin lips were almost blue, and if not for the beeping monitor he had attached, Danny would have thought him deceased.
He moved over to the adjoining bed where an old woman with thin white hair lay. Danny squinted down at her. It was hard to tell she was breathing. Her blue veins stood out against her paper-like skin. Curious, Danny reached down and grasped the chart that was attached to the foot of the bed and scanned its contents. There was a lot in it that he couldn't understand, but one word caught his eye: metastatic cancer. He lowered his eyes to gaze down at the frail woman again.
He went over to the next bed, pulling up the chart. Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. He went over to the next one. Hepatitis. The next one. Pancreatic cancer. One bed over. Leukemia. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Liver failure. Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome.
Terminal.
Danny returned the last chart back to where it had been placed and spun in a slow circle to take in the unmoving figures all around him again. He understood now why there was such a dark aura hanging over this place that separated it from the rest of the building. This floor was saved for the cases which held no hope, no potential to recover.
These people had been left for dead.
Lost in his grief for these strangers whom he did not know, these abandoned souls locked away from the rest of the world, Danny shimmered into being again, losing his immaterial state to stand there in the middle of the room, out of place amidst these gaunt figures in pallid white robes with his blue jeans and worn shoes.
Quietly he left, a sense of injustice nagging at him. He kept his head down almost forgetting the reason he came here entirely, and would have done so if, on his way back to the elevator, he heard a faint whispering sound.
His head shot up, images of what he had just seen still burning behind his eyes, and turned in the direction of the barely-discernable disturbance. Almost without thinking, his feet began to move, drawing him closer. As he approached, the voice began to grow more distinguishable. Danny recognized it as a man's voice, gruff, not used to speaking in a low volume.
His heart began to pound, and his pace quickened. Danny's blue eyes darted back and forth as he passed by the row of rooms again, searching for the source. Just as he reached it, he remembered to turn invisible once more, then peered inside. This room was smaller than the one he entered earlier, and housed only two patients, and between them, situated on a chair propped to face one of the inmates, was another.
A dark-skinned man with a sturdy frame and shaved head, wearing dark sunglasses and a white suit was hunched over in his seat, leaning in to another man of similar size clad in a hospital gown lain on the bed next to his chair. The man on the bed had an olive complexion in contrast to the man who currently had one of his hands clasped between two of his own. Reminding himself to be a quiet as possible, Danny stepped over the threshold to stand closer to the two subjects.
Agent K had his partner's hand in a firm grip, his thumb absently running over the other man's knuckles, and he was murmuring sweet nothings into the unresponsive subject's ear. Danny struggled to catch what he was saying but could only glean a few words that escaped. "…won't get away with this … gonna make sure … everything alright again … together before you know it … don't worry … take care of it…"
"Mister K?" a cherub-sweet voice resounded from behind them. Danny jumped slightly at the unexpected sound. K managed to tear his eyes away from his partner's side long enough to snap, "What?"
"Your little friend is looking for you. Apparently he couldn't wait to sign the logbook, so he had me come find you," the nurse informed brightly. "It's time for you to go."
K turned his attention back to the man lying on the bed. He didn't say anything further, but the muscles in his mouth worked furiously, wanting to lash out at being interrupted. Instead, he slowly stood up, pushing the chair back. He let go of Agent O's limp hand, then leaned down to press a soft kiss on his forehead. Danny drew in a sharp breath at this unexpected motion of tenderness. He wanted to say something, 'I'm sorry', perhaps, or 'I understand'. He turned when Agent K turned, facing the nurse waiting for him.
Danny's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped when he noticed her face. The white cap that adorned her head hid most of her blood-red hair, but there was no mistaking her large green eyes, her pointed chin, or the sadistic grin sprawled across her beautiful face.
Danny was staring at Penelope Spectra.
She gestured at the exit for Agent K, placing a hand on his back in mocking show of compassion. As he passed by, she inhaled deeply, as though savoring the scent of the deodorant he wore. Danny knew, however, that what she was inhaling with such relish could not be poured into any bottle. K gave her a strange look, and she returned it with a twisted smile.
Shutting the heavy door behind K, Spectra turned hungry eyes upon the helpless two agents that lay side by side. Slowly, purposefully, she sauntered towards her victims, her hips sashaying in an exaggerated fashion as her heels clacked against the floor. Her shadow fell upon Agent O's face as she towered over him, revealing her pointed teeth as her malicious grin grew wider. Danny watched, petrified, while she raised her hand, nails filed into dangerous tips and painted a robust pink.
"Stop."
Spectra paused, her fingers curled to resemble a claw. She raised her eyebrows when Danny materialized before her, trembling. Spectra blinked, then straightened up, familiarity glazing over her features.
"Danny Phantom, hello!" she crowed, placing her hands on her hips. "What brings you here?"
"Whatever you're planning, stop," Danny urged. "You're only going to give yourself away."
Spectra raised her eyebrows knowingly. "And what is it that you think I'm planning?"
"Stop it, Spectra!" Danny roared, his anger flaring high. He had dealt with too much, seen too much, to put up with her games that day. The decaying faces of the people at the other end of the hall still burned in his mind. "You make one move to kill them and I blow you through that window and right into the van of the Guys in White waiting downstairs."
To his surprise, Spectra began to laugh. Her shoulders shook with the effort of it, and she threw her head back and allowed them to wrack through her body.
"Kill them! Oh, my dear boy, you are sorely mistaken. I have no desire to kill any of these people."
She sat herself down on the chair Agent K had been using, swinging one leg over the other, gazing up at Danny in amusement. "After all," she said in a calculative tone, "if I were interested in killing them, I would have smothered your friend while he slept right before your very eyes."
Danny gaped at her. "How – you were there?"
Spectra let out a chuckle. "Oh, Danny – I have been in every part of this hospital you can think of."
"How long?" Danny questioned, taking a step back. This was unbelievable. How could Spectra have been here all along? He recalled his fight with Bertrand at Casper High, remembered him saying that they had parted ways and that he didn't know where she was. His eyes slid down to take in her form, the way she was dressed in that nurse's outfit. Why had he not sensed her presence?
"How long?" she murmured. "Oh – months, I believe. I'm not too sure. The days blur into the nights and back into the days again … I've been here ever since they discovered that rock."
The rock – the one with the inscription that had thrown the Ghost Zone into a panic. Spectra was still speaking.
"Everyone got themselves into such a frenzy, running about in circles; it was delicious, truly … but then they started coming up with all these plans and such. Little thing, you know, just to give themselves hope. Well, I wasn't interested in the least, so I told myself, why not wait it out?
"Like many others, I decided to seek refuge in the human world. If the Ghost Zone is truly to be destroyed, well then, the despair that would create … could you imagine?" she turned her eyes, and Danny was taken aback to find her pupils dilated. "So I thought, why not bide my time till then? Stay in the human world, until this little … prophecy – or whatever it is – comes to pass, and then go back in to reap the benefits. Oh, the devastation…" she threw her arms out and began to rotate off the ground and into the air. Danny backed up. Spectra was floating now, her eyes closed, and an expression of delirious ecstasy on her face.
"I contemplated where to spend my time in human world," her eyes glowed an almost neon green now, blaring bright against the dimly lit room. Danny glanced over at the window covered up by the pink curtain heavy enough to block out sunlight almost entirely. "Considered going back to your school, but I knew you'd be far too much of a pest to deal with … and then I told myself, where in Amity Park would I find the greatest supply of despair?"
She ran a hand down her smooth cheek. "Oh, but even I didn't anticipate how well it would work out. Your town truly is a fountain of youth, Danny; I haven't felt this refreshed in years."
Then her skin began to peel. Danny stared with a mixture of horror and disgust as a chunk of flesh fell off her arm, followed by a strip unwrapping from her face down to her legs. Like a banana she began to unravel, the outer husk falling away to reveal a creature spawned of black fire. Green irises gave way to narrow red slits, and Spectra tossed away the last of its human remains with a whip of its tail. When it spoke, its voice echoed so that it sounded as though the entire room was speaking with it.
"The best part," it boomed, "was growing so powerful that I even began to surpass you. Who would have thought sinking into the walls would allow me to evade your ghost sense so entirely? Oh, how I laughed when I watched you come in and out, eating away at your emotions while you watched your friend. You, and that other boy … and you never had a clue!"
It drifted down, hovering over the prone form of Agent O. Danny turned to him in alarm, and realized with a start that the man's eyes were open. He almost shouted, but then noticed that the agent still wasn't moving. Danny understood then that the reporters had gotten it wrong. The two agents weren't comatose the way Kwan had been. Their eyes were wide open, and their faces frozen in an expression of terror. They weren't comatose, they were catatonic. That's why the hospital had placed them here, in this ward for the dying. The doctors probably had no idea how to bring them out of the perpetual state of fear Danny knew they were stuck in. Spectra ran one of its long, black fingers against his forehead and stuck it into its mouth, as though tasting a simmering broth. Its eyes slid shut in a moment of bliss.
"Mmmmm," it purred. "That Fright Knight truly is an artist."
It turned its merciless red eyes back on to Danny. "As I was saying, my dear – I have no reason to kill any of these people. The misery radiating from them, and from their loved ones, are all I need to get me by. Why, I'd be doing myself a disservice finishing them off, cutting my connection to their souls … and then their friends and family would stop visiting. And it's such a pain waiting for the new sicklies to come in. No, I'm not looking to kill anybody. I want them to hang on as long as they possibly can." Its grin turned predatory. "After all, that's why I became a nurse."
Spectra's voice, still bouncing off the walls, started deepening, growing monstrous. "The ones I like best are the coma patients," it sneered. "Your friend in particular was a rare treat. You do know that they are conscious throughout the entire ordeal, don't you, Phantom? Not awake, perhaps, but the dread and the confusion running through their mind is delightful! Your friend—" it curved its back, letting out a great and terrible laugh, "—he didn't eve n know what hit him! It was hilarious, if only you could have heard him … one day he's swaggering through school like he owns the place – the next, his body won't move and everything's dark! His fear was truly inspired."
Danny had heard enough. Breathing hard, he transformed into ghostly form. His chest and his shoulders rose and fell, and his blood roared in his ears. He raised his glowing hand to the hideous specter in front of him. Spectra let out another round of laughter.
"You don't honestly believe you are any match for me, do you, boy?" it howled. "Even now you feed me with your anger and your resentment. There is nothing you can do to stand against my strength, to stand against my will, to stand against my power!" It raised its arms and the world exploded. Danny watched in horror as the dull grey walls began to melt in a wave of black ooze.
The floor started to give way, becoming less solid, less tangible, transforming into a large puddle of muck. Danny let out a cry, waving his arms to steady himself from falling, and then realized that he was stuck. He had been so distracted by Spectra's words he hadn't been paying enough attention, had forgotten to fly into the air. Spectra was growing bigger, looming over him and the two immobile men. The floor had attached itself to his white boots, and now the walls were pulling away at Spectra's behest, gathering in the air towards her, black spooge from all four sides gathering together to form into a giant wave. Danny stared at frightfully, dread scrabbling at him.
With a wave of its hand, Spectra commandeered the large dark wave to hurl itself at him and Danny had no time to do anything but raise his hands to his face in an inadequate attempt to protect himself.
The wave washed over him , drowning him in its form, and then circled, picking itself up almost as soon as it had crashed down on him, taking Danny along with it. Danny could see, through the faintest cracks available, Spectra's cruel grin, and then he was rolling, rolling as the wave tumbled itself over and over in mid-air until it formed a ball. Danny had no choice but to hold his breath and turn intangible in hopes of escaping, but it was no use. The black ooze would not allow him to pass through. With one last gaze through the cracks before the darkness closed around him, Danny saw Spectra clench her claw-like fingers into a fist and swipe at the air before him, and then Danny felt himself hurtling sideways, tearing through thin air until he crashed into something, the impact of which lodged him out of the black mass's hold, and then he was falling, sunlight piercing through his closed eyes. Danny peeked out through one eyelid and realized he was outside now, heading straight for the hospital's parking lot.
Forcing himself to remain intangible, he allowed it to happen, feeling the air cut through him as he fell. Light burst through the cracks of his eyelashes, and then suddenly, darkness once again.
Author's Note: Man, what a depressing chapter. Correct me if you feel differently, but I think this is probably the gloomiest installment in the story so far.
This chapter was supposed to go on and end with a scene in Danny's room, but it didn't feel right after writing this fight scene with Spectra. I'll see if I can work it into the next chapter, or else drop it entirely. But god, does it feel good to get out of the 10 pages I've been averaging for the past few chapters!