From chapter 4 of The Hero's Villain:

"I counted twice but one of my students was missing. I knew he was here at school and I'd seen him in the cafeteria when the ghost attacked. I realized he must still be in there. So I went back in. The cafeteria was a complete mess. Tables were thrown everywhere as this monster slapped them around like they were toys. For a long moment I saw visions of my missing student trapped under rubble and unwilling or... unable to cry out. And then I heard him scream. My blood ran cold at that moment. There was no mistaking my student's voice. And he was screaming in agony."

Lancer

Lionel Lancer stared up at the slowly rotating ceiling. Or maybe he was rotating. Or maybe he'd had too much to drink. He wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was he didn't feel anymore and that was all that mattered.

The floor was uncomfortable. He had to get up. He knew he had to get up if he planned on getting up at all in the next few days. That was the last thing he needed, to be bedridden again waiting for his back to recover. He already felt the tingling in his feet begin. Or maybe that was the bourbon talking.

The bourbon was doing a lot of talking and Lancer was in no condition to tell it to stop. He didn't want to hear himself think. If he did he'd start to shake again. He'd start to realize. He'd start to wonder...

Lionel heard the boy scream.

Not many teachers could say they'd heard their students scream. And even they probably couldn't say they'd heard it quite like this.

There'd been a ghost attack in the cafeteria. Something darted out of the cafeteria freezers. He'd been there for lunch monitor duty, he made the call for evacuation. He needed to get everyone out of the building, out to the field where they could wait out the attack, wait for the Fentons to declare the scene cleared. But one of his students was missing.

He'd gone back in. And then he heard the boy scream.

Phantom... sounded so much like Fenton. Too close. He didn't have any proof, not yet, but...

Lancer picked up the bottle of bourbon, finding it too empty to talk. He groped around for something else, something to stop his mind from going over the event again and again and...

Paper...

Paper and a pen. Lancer dragged himself up, barely managed to roll over onto his belly. He had paper, a pen. He didn't care that the pages were half-graded student essays, they would do. He couldn't drown out his thoughts.

But he could write until they left his head.

-00000-

Lancer sat at his desk massaging his head. The blinds were closed and his breath still carried the faint scent of the hair of the dog. His head pounded and the room kept lurching off to one side. He had the television screen ready to show The Great Gatsby so he wouldn't have to teach today. His class filed in, each picking up their hastily graded papers.

"Huh."

Lancer looked up blearily at Star. She had her paper turned over. "Mr. Lancer, are these notes about how I did?" she asked.

Lancer blinked up at her and the page she held out in front of him. His own... Oh... Heh.

"Okay, people, after you've seen your grades I'll need your essays back," Lancer called. A chorus of groans echoed through the room. He ignored them, continuing to pretend he hadn't actually scribbled drunken poetry all over his student's essays. If Tetslaff found out about it he'd never live it down.