This chapter here didn't have much of a goal. I mostly wanted to do a little exploring, so I wrote as I went. So here's this, and the next one should be more interesting.

"Wes."

"Yeah?"

"...What are you doing on the news?"

It was a Saturday evening, and Danny had been stuck at the kitchen table while his parents ranted and raved about some ghost they had run into earlier that day. Curious, because Danny hadn't caught wind of any ghosts terrorizing the town, the teen had turned on the television set. He'd expected to see smoke and potholes and the general destruction of property that usually indicated a ghost attack.

What he didn't expect was to see shaky video footage of Wraith standing at a crosswalk, waiting for a green light just like any human would have, a drink of some sort in his hand.

Danny had excused himself at the earliest opportunity, running up to his room and shutting the door. He snatched his phone from where it rested on his unmade bed, dialing Wes's number with the intent of thoroughly grilling him.

Wes had picked up after two rings, and was nearly as flabbergasted as Danny was. "...I made the news?"

"Yes you made the news," Danny hissed irritably. "But what are you doing there? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Wes huffed. "Really, I didn't. It was just a social experiment."

"...A social experiment."

Wes nodded, even though Danny couldn't see it. "Yeah. You know, seeing what people would do with a non-hostile ghost around when there wasn't a fight going on."

"And you thought that was a good idea?!" Danny cried.

"It turned out fine!" Wes argued.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to simply breathe. "...Okay. Explain it to me. What in the world made you think that was a smart thing to do? My freaking parents ran into you. What happened?"

Wes sat forward on his own bed, eager to tell Danny about his findings. "Okay, so it was like this..."

{(O)}

Wes was tucked away in a long, narrow alley, a chain link fence behind him and a one-way street ahead of him. He shrugged his gear bag off of his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground. He sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out.

He was nervous. This was something he had been considering for days, but even so, he knew exactly how risky it was. Amity Park was brimming with ghost hunters, some more skilled than others. Even more dangerous were the ghosts that haunted the town. If they noticed him there, they may make their own presence known and cause trouble, which would deem the experiment an immediate failure, more than likely. Even so, he wouldn't know what would happen until he gave it a shot, and if worst came to worst, he was certain he could take care of any threat that came his way, ghost or otherwise.

Quietly reassuring himself of this, Wes transformed, the light briefly illuminating the alley. His hands immediately flew up to his arms, rubbing them up and down; winter was just around the corner, and his ghost form coming with short sleeves was doing him no favors in the nippy weather. But luckily, he came prepared. Reaching into the gear bag, he fished out an old hoodie he'd worn in middle school, slipping it on. It fit snugly, as he'd grown at least five inches since he last wore it, but leaving it unzipped kept it from hugging him too tightly. He then hid the bag between two dumpsters, making a mental note to deep-clean the thing later before emerging from his hiding place. He took a steadying breath, plastered an easy smile on his face, and strolled out onto the sidewalk.

The reaction of the public was rather lackluster, at first. In the clouded sunlight, his glow was almost imperceptible if you weren't looking for it. He had no overtly ghostly features, either; his hair could easily be mistaken as dyed, and his outfit, though ridiculous with the hoodie layered over it, wasn't particularly otherworldly. To the unobservant eye, he could have passed as an ordinary, if oddly dressed, rebellious teenager.

But eventually, people did notice. One glance at his face, at his inverted eyes, at his bright freckles that subtly changed colors with every passing thought, and civilians quickly caught on to the ghost in their midst, gasping and jumping out of his way. Some screamed, others watched cautiously as he passed.

Wes tried not to let it bother him. All eyes were on him, watching him with suspicion. Curiosity. Wariness. Fear. But Wes had expected that. The people of Amity Park had little in the way of positive experiences with ghosts. Even Phantom wasn't exempt from this; he almost exclusively appeared when another ghost was already making a scene, and his arrival often preceded widespread destruction, his own doing and otherwise. The town didn't have any ghosts they didn't have to be wary of.

But Wes intended to change that. If he was going to be a ghost, he didn't want to be a ghost the town feared. He wanted to be someone they knew they could rely on, someone who wasn't considered merely a beacon of violence, however righteous. And if that meant hunters were less likely to shoot at him, or at any other non-hostile ghosts— Phantom, namely— well, then, even better.

And to achieve that, he was going to make himself as non-threatening and relatable as possible.

Wes turned suddenly, making everyone near him either flinch or run, and entered a small café. The door chimed with his entrance, and everyone inside looked over. A few resumed chatting after a few seconds of staring, not noticing anything amiss, and those closest to the door shrank back in their seats, cowering. Wes tried not to pay them any mind as he strode to the counter as nonchalantly as he could. The cashier stared with wide eyes as he approached, but found herself rooted to the spot.

Wes plastered a wide, hopefully encouraging smile on his face, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, the poor cashier quivering where she stood. Wes's smile faltered, but remained in place. "...Hi. Could I please get one small strawberry smoothie, to go?"

The cashier blinked, surprised. She'd never had a ghost order anything from her before, and she had no idea why one would be doing that now. But with customer service, there was a script, and it was one she knew very well how to follow. "...I... er... of course!" she squeaked. "That'll be $2.49, please! What, er... What name should I put?"

"Wraith," the ghost replied amicably, his attitude further confusing the cashier. Even more astounding was when he pulled out an actual wallet from his pocket, edges frayed with age and frequent use, and fished out a five dollar bill. Feeling somewhat numb, the cashier processed the transaction, handing the enigmatic spirit his change and receipt.

Wes's smile became more genuine as he accepted his change. "Thank you," he said, placing the bills in the nearby tip jar. It was the least he could do for scaring the girl out of her wits. He then sat at a nearby bench to wait, anyone within two tables moving to give him a wide berth.

A few minutes later, his "name" was called out, and he got up and returned to the counter for his beverage. This time, the cashier, though tense, managed a small smile of her own as she gave him his order. "Have a fantastic day!" she chirped.

"Thanks, I will!" Wes beamed, taking a sip from his drink as he went out the door, leaving a dozen or so baffled patrons in his wake.

Drink in hand, Wes made his way down the sidewalk, anyone walking in front of him crossing the street to avoid him. He ignored them in favor of sipping his smoothie. He glanced up at the sky, littered with clouds that didn't quite manage to smother the sun. Though it was cold, the weather was nice and clear. Nice enough that he thought it would be a good idea to stop by the park and finish his drink there. Maybe he could watch the birds and squirrels that hadn't decided to hibernate yet.

It didn't take long for him to reach said park, bustling with kids, couples, and wild animals. It took all of eight seconds for someone to notice his unusual presence, screaming at the top of their lungs and running like their life was on the line. That response sent off a chain reaction, sending practically the entire park into a frenzied panic. Even if not everyone was aware of the possible threat in their midst, they also knew that nobody screamed and ran like that for no reason. Within seconds, the entire park was empty.

Things were going about as he'd expected so far. Didn't mean it didn't suck, though.

Wes soon located the fountain, turning and sitting down at the edge. Coins glinted under the water's surface, dull and worn with time; though the tradition of tossing coins in hadn't fully died, everyone knew better than to place wishes on them now, so the practice was falling out of favor. Even so, what change existed glimmered just enough to keep Wes's attention as he drank, watching the way the rippling water made the light waver and shift.

So focused was he, that he almost missed the telltale roar of a motorcycle approaching, his ghost sense going off when it got close. Somewhat irritated, he turned his head, just in time to see Johnny himself pulling over, kicking up dirt even though his bike left no tracks behind.

"Well well, if it isn't the vibe killer himself," the biker sneered, kicking his kickstand before swinging a leg over. "Funny, the park isn't usually this empty. You decide to ruin everyone's fun here too?"

Wes scowled. This was exactly what he didn't want to happen. "Leave me alone. Can't a guy enjoy a smoothie in peace?"

"See, that's kind of a problem," Johnny hissed, fingers pressed together. "Wraith, right? That's what you go by? You see, I was hoping to drift through here to do some people watching, see the sights, but your loitering scared off all my prospects. And you know, that's really not gonna fly. Not after you ruined my fun last time."

"Your fun involved kidnapping a student," Wes growled, lip curling at the memory. "You think I would just let you get away with that?"

"Doesn't really matter now, since I got Kitty back," Johnny hummed. "But you're not gonna spoil my fun today, too. Looks like there's no Phantom around to save you this time, so I'm gonna have my way, and there isn't anything you can do about it."

The ghost snapped his fingers, and his shadow surged and morphed, silhouette changing until it had become his partner in crime. Wes didn't let himself be daunted by Shadow's imposing figure. He remembered its weakness.

"Get him, Shadow!" Johnny shouted, pointing at his target. Shadow shrieked in malicious glee, charging. Wes leaned back, bracing himself. And then he flashed, becoming a beacon of light so bright you couldn't see him through it. Shadow screamed, its form dissipating under the relentless onslaught of light. Only when it was completely dissolved did Wes dim again, having not moved an inch, glowering at Johnny.

The biker was stunned. He was even more pale than usual, taking a bewildered step back towards his bike. "What the-! Nobody told me about that! Forget this, I'll just come back later!" He hadn't expected Shadow to be disposed of so handily, and he was not keen on figuring out what other tricks Wes had up his sleeve. He scrambled onto his motorcycle, the vehicle roaring to life and speeding off.

Wes glared at Johnny's back as he fled, watching until he was no longer in sight. The Halfa sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat. There was no doubt that the commotion, brief as it was, would have put anyone nearby on edge for a while. Not to mention that he had been seen just before, therefore he knew his appearance now would be far from welcome. All in all, his experiment was a bust.

Still, he could at least walk the short way back to his bag. Hopping away from the edge of the fountain, Wes finished off the last of his smoothie, disposing of it in a nearby bin before heading back the way he came. He didn't even make it back to the main path before he was interrupted. "STOP RIGHT THERE, GHOST!"

Wes turned around just in time to see what looked like a souped-up RV screeching to a halt, the giant megaphone sticking out of the top retracting in the same moment that the doors flew open. Out of the vehicle sprung the Fentons, both of them armed to the teeth. "We have you now, you spectral abomination!" Jack jeered, already aiming something that looked like a very small rod, but was no doubt far more dangerous than appearances would suggest.

"Oh boy..." Wes muttered. "Sorry guys, I don't really have time to get captured and experimented on right now. Places to be and all that. Bye!"

The Halfa crouched and took to the air, but Jack was quick. With the press of a button, the end of the rod opened, expelling a mess of clawed cables. "Eat Jack-O-Nine-Tails, scum!"

Wes tried to veer out of the way, but the device had better reach than he thought. It snared around his ankle, emitting blue sparks as it discharged. But this was far from a painless shock. No, it felt like Wes's veins had been injected with lit gasoline. He screamed, crashing back to the ground twitching and trembling.

"We have you now!" Maddie cried, pulling a modified bazooka from her back and aiming. The end glowed menacingly, whining as it charged up.

Wes did not want to be hit by that. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he manifested his tail, its lithe form slipping out of the Jack-O-Nine-Tails's grip before it could tighten back around. Not giving the ghost hunters a chance to try to snare him again, he took off, the cannon just barely missing him. Both Jack and Maddie pulled out smaller guns, more akin to rifles than rocket launchers, but Wes was already too far out of range, his sporadic weaving making it impossible to aim.

"Curse you, ghost!" Maddie roared, shaking an angry fist. "Curse you! You won't get away from us so easily next time!"

Once he was a safe distance away, Wes all but crash-landed in another section of the park, hidden by trees and far from the GAV. He hit the ground hard and tumbled, but he barely felt it. The searing pain from the Jack-O-Nine-Tails was threatening to consume him, leaving him convulsing against the ground.

That had not been typical electricity. It seemed to behave like normal, with Wes's core absorbing and circulating it like any other charge. But instead of invigorating him, it felt like it was eating away at his cells from the inside out. He felt like he was dying. He needed to get rid of it, and quickly.

Wes's eyes frantically darted about, desperate for something he could discharge into. A tree wouldn't do; wood wasn't very conductive. And there were no manmade constructs to hold onto, either. The ground would have to do. Surely that would work, right? It would have to, he supposed.

Wes forced himself onto his hands and knees, limbs quivering. He opened up his core, choking back a sob at the fresh wave of pain this brought, and pushed. His fingertips sparked, dispelling the current into the earth. The heat immediately dulled, and Wes pushed again, and again, until there was nothing left to push out. He trembled, and then collapsed, sucking in relieved gasps as he reverted to human form, completely worn out.

"...Note to self," he thought aloud once he had caught his breath again. "Ghost electricity, safe. Normal electricity, safe. But electricity from anti-ghost weapons is a definite no."

{(O)}

"So they did hurt you," Danny said with a frown.

"Dude, I'm okay now," Wes assured him. "Once I got rid of the charge I felt fine. It just... kind of sucked at the time."

"And all of that was just to see if people would run away from you if you were nice?" Danny asked, throwing up his free hand in exasperation, even though Wes couldn't see it.

"I knew people would probably run," the jock replied. "The point was just to get people used to me. I figured, if I showed up even when there wasn't a ghost to fight, they would stop associating me with the bad ghosts, and probably not scream or shoot at me. It's called good PR. Maybe you should try it."

"Or maybe I shouldn't," said Danny, "because you did get shot at, so obviously your stunt didn't work. I have a hard enough time not getting shot at as it is, I don't need to give my parents more chances to shoot at me."

"Suit yourself," Wes hummed with a shrug. "I'm gonna keep trying until people figure out I'm a good ghost. They'll have to realize eventually that I'm not out to haunt anyone, and then who knows? I might even be safer if I keep it up."

"Right, safer," Danny deadpanned. "You're an idiot."

Wes pouted. "This was just the first trial. It'll be better next time, you'll see."

It wasn't long after that that Danny hung up, still thoroughly convinced of Wes's stupidity. Still, he found himself snorting a disbelieving laugh down at his phone.

"Planning on making people like you by making a scene out of yourself, huh?" There was no answer, of course. Still, despite the sheer rashness of Wes's plot, Danny couldn't help but be intrigued. Almost hoping he would succeed. "...You're definitely ambitious, I'll give you that."

I used to think about why Phantom had such bad publicity, beyond events where someone actively tried to make him look bad. And then I realized, he's never really shown up outside of supernatural calamities. Even if he isn't technically hurting anybody, he's sort of become an omen of disaster, if you think about it. I kind of want to explore what would happen if a good-aligned ghost didn't only show up ready for a fight. Obviously I couldn't touch on that much in a single chapter, but now there's something to maybe build upon.

On the next chapter: something new. :)