For best results, read "Graveyard Shift" and "Ghost with the Most" first. "Lights, Camera, Phantom!" is also applicable for...reasons. None of this is required.

It Came From Wisconsin!

Chapter One: Once a Fruit Loop, Always a Fruit Loop

"I'm not saying I don't like you. I'm just saying I'd unplug your life support to make a pot of coffee." - Unknown

"You should have told me sooner."

Jazz doesn't take her eyes off the road, but she guiltily bites her lip. She offered to drive me to the movie theater so that we could talk without the risk of Mom and Dad overhearing. "I know. But, you've been under so much pressure lately. We all agreed to give you at least one day without worrying about your enemies."

My arms are crossed, and I stare listlessly out the window. "I get that. And, I appreciate it. But, I need to know these things, Jazz."

Yesterday the townsfolk threw a surprise birthday party for me - for my undead alter ego if you want to get technical - and I had never felt so wanted. People lined up to give speeches about me. They brought food and presents. They revealed that they'd been donating to a bank account I didn't know I had for almost a year now. I smiled so hard my face hurt. I wept bitter tears because I felt so unworthy of all that love. I was a whirlwind of joy and self-hatred and all my feelings were on the surface and it wasn't pretty and no one judged me.

Yesterday was the best day of my life. So, yes, while I don't like that my friends didn't tell me that Vlad Plasmius was looking for me and was more aggressive than usual, I can understand why they kept their mouths shut.

But, that doesn't mean I'm not upset about it.

"He put his hands on you," I say, remembering the fresh bruises on Jazz's arms. Thank the Ancients for my healing powers. I don't know how we would have explained that to our parents.

"Danny," Jazz says, "you make it sound like Vlad had his way with me." I don't respond. After a moment, Jazz asks, "Are you sure you still wanna see this movie? Maybe it would be better to lay low for a while. At least as well as you can while working on fortifications."

She's referring to helping the townsfolk be ready for my highly destructive halfa puberty. (More on that later.)

Lying low is exactly what Vlad wants me to do. Therefore, "Like I told Sam and Tucker on the phone, I'm not putting my life on hold just because the fruit loop of Wisconsin has a stick up his ass. I've dealt with Vlad's moods before, and I can do it again."

Jazz pulls up in front of the theater. "You didn't see him, Danny. That wasn't one of his usual moods." I have my hand on the door handle when she adds, "I think something might have been wrong with his core. He was clutching his chest, and it looked like he was in a lot of pain."

Everyone needs to stop leaving out important details.

If Vlad's core is hurting, it can only mean that he desperately needs to fulfill his Obsession. An Obsession is something a ghost needs to have or do in order to keep their core healthy and keep themselves sane. If a ghost goes too long without fulfilling it, they'll go to great lengths to do so. If you know what I mean. Vlad Masters/Plasmius is dangerous enough without an unsatisfied core.

Then again, Vlad is a manipulative bastard who knows how to work his targets. I wouldn't put it past him to fake core problems to scare someone.

"I'll take my chances," I say, hoping it's the latter option. That wouldn't be good, but I don't like the idea of an already unstable person coming completely undone.

I step out of the car and greet Sam and Tucker, who are waiting at the entrance. I must fail at acting casual, because my best friends' welcoming smiles turn upside-down.

"All good, man?" Tucker asks. "You look kind of freaked."

I can't talk about this in public, so I settle for a half-truth. "I'm fine. My folks have been giving me and Jazz hell for attending Danny Phantom's birthday party, is all."

More accurately, Dad's been trying to keep Mom from punishing us for it. Dad doesn't like the idea of his kids palling around with ghosts any more than Mom does, but he's willing to trust my and Jazz's judgment. I'm hoping that Mom softens up with time.

Sam scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Don't let it get to you, Danny. We all know how parents are. Now, do you want to stand around and gripe, or do you want to take your mind off things with two hours of monsters and gore?"

We're seeing Trinity of Doom 2, and word is that it's better than the first movie. I point a finger gun at Sam. "Monsters and gore. Please." Suddenly, a cold breath, my Ghost Sense, shoots out of me. "Not what I had in mind."

Tucker jerks his thumb over his shoulder and lowers his voice. "You need to, uh…?"

In response, I conjure a duplicate and watch it fly out of the alley by the theater. "He's got it," I say. "Shall we?"

On screen, Nightmerica is digging her claws into Femalien's stomach, sending black blood spurting everywhere in the most gruesome and over the top way possible.

In real life, my Ghost Sense reappears. Soon after, my duplicate crashes through the ceiling, lands directly in front of me (thankfully, my friends and I are sitting in the first row), and says with a sheepish wave, "Oh, hello. How's the movie?"

The ghost it had been fighting flies in from the hole in the ceiling, and all but Sam, Tucker, and I run away screaming. Smart move, considering what we're dealing with.

The ghost is forty-five years old and has been a halfa for twenty-three of those years. He has light blue-green skin, long black hair styled to resemble horns, and wholly red eyes. He wears a white suit, black boots and gloves, and a white cape that's red underneath.

In human-form, he is Vladimir Nathaniel Masters: the aloof and respectable mayor of this fine town.

Right now, he is Vlad Plasmius: my arch-enemy. He's that in human-form as well. He just doesn't have to hide it as a ghost.

"I have no time for duplicates, Daniel," Vlad says, touching down in front of me as I will my duplicate away. Behind him, Terminatra is about to launch a sneak attack. We're missing some perfectly good mindless violence because of this guy! Vlad grabs me and lifts me up by the shirt collar. "You're coming with me."

Jazz's warning echoes in my mind. Whatever Vlad wants me for, I want no part of it. "Or…I'm going ghost!"

I'm hit with a wave of burning cold as my human body transforms into its spectral counterpart. I blast him square in the ribs with a ghost ray, and he is thrown back, just barely avoiding the movie that, at this point, should probably stop playing.

"We came here to watch monsters fight each other," I say as Vlad climbs to his feet. "Not to do the fighting ourselves."

My friends are so accustomed to ghost attacks that they never leave home without a weapon. Case in point, Sam pulls the Fenton Rod out of her purse and activates it, letting a glowing stick-like beam rise from the top. Tucker, who is better with distance attacks, modified his PDA so that a small ecto-gun emerges from it whenever he needs it.

Tucker fires the ecto-gun now. Vlad holds out his hand, forming a dark pink shield to block the ray. While the old fruit loop is distracted, Sam comes in hot and slams the Rod into the backs of Vlad's legs. He collapses, and that means it's my turn. I whip out the Fenton Thermos and suck Vlad into it, closing it tight as soon as the maniac is inside.

Ordinarily, this is the point where I'd thank the guys for their help and praise them for a job well done.

However…

"That was easy," Tucker says cautiously.

"It was," I agree. "And as we all know, when things are easy with Vlad, it means the other shoe is about to drop."

My friends put their weapons away, and Sam says, "If Vlad's attacking your human-form in a public setting, he must be getting desperate. Can you think of any reason he would want you this badly?"

"I got nothing." I think for a moment. "Although, Jazz did mention that Vlad might be having problems with his core. I'm wondering if it has something to do with his Obsession."

Tucker frowns deeply. "And, we still don't know what that is."

I have a feeling that we're going to find out very soon.

The rest of the day passed without incident. As soon as I got home, I dumped Plasmius into the Ghost Zone, and no one saw him again afterward. But, we're not letting our guard down. The guys and I informed Jazz and Valerie of the situation. Since Dash and Paulina are publicly friends with Danny Phantom, we told them to watch their backs should Plasmius decide to use them against me.

Today is Monday, and I'm not the only one who's been on edge throughout the school day. Fortunately, the only ghost we've seen today is my homeroom teacher/history teacher/imprinted mother. It sounds more complicated than it is. And yes, Eileen "Ms. Mae" Merryweather has also been informed of the situation.

History is my last class of the day, which means that I'm almost home free. I should be excited about that, but for the first time in two months, I have no plans.

I've been working my butt off to help the Guys in White (ugh) and, to a lesser extent, my ghost hunter parents (double ugh) work on weaponry and defenses for the townsfolk. July 23rd will be the final day of my halfa puberty, better known as my reckoning. On that day, I will lose touch with reality and Clockwork only knows what will happen next. Speaking of Clockwork, the reason I can't just hide in the Ghost Zone that day is because he informed us that I'll attack the town no matter what. I have every intention of locking myself away in the Zone, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

According to the scientists, relatives included, there's nothing more for me to do until they finish up with the latest enhancements, which will apparently take a week or two. I'm getting a break, which is good.

I have a week or two to be paranoid about a certain Packers fanatic and have nothing but schoolwork to distract me, which is bad.

I try to focus on Eileen's lesson. During school hours, my Shapeshifting ghost mom dawns the appearance of a black woman with a head of tight curls. Quite the coincidence, given today's subject matter. "The most well-known conductor of the Underground Railroad was Araminta Ross, or Harriet Tubman, the name she took after escaping a Maryland plantation with two of her brothers," Eileen says gesturing to the projection on the pull-out screen in front of the black board. She gives us all a side glance and covers one side of her mouth with her hand, as if telling some big secret. "She was also the hottest of the conductors, but that might be a matter of opinion."

Oh, god. I do not need to know whom my mama considers to be the "hottest."

At the shocked looks on most students' faces - I think my peers sometimes forget how old our teacher is - Eileen waves dismissively. "Oh, relax. It's not like I banged the woman. Though, I confess to having a few fantasies." None of this is relevant to my high school career. I'm so glad no one knows that her son, Danny Phantom, is currently sitting in her classroom. "But, I would never do the deed with a married woman." Quieter, she adds, "You only make that mistake once."

The few people who heard that giggle. They wouldn't be laughing if they knew that mistake got their teacher killed.

Suddenly, out pops my Ghost Sense. Is it too much to hope that it's the Box Ghost?

The answer is yes.

There's a blur in my peripheral vision. Before I know it, Vlad Freaking Plasmius crashes through the window. When I say he crashes through the window, I mean he crashes through the window. Glass is everywhere. A few desks and unlucky students are overturned. Those same unlucky students were cut up by the shards, and blood is smeared on the floor. My core doesn't like that very much.

Vlad is in ghost-form and he broke a very big window to get in. My peers are fleeing the room in a loud panic, and I hear other classrooms start to evacuate, so I know I'm not hallucinating. Vlad is usually more subtle than this. He prides himself on it.

This isn't normal. Not by a long shot.

While I'm still in shock, Vlad hones in on me. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me out of my seat so hard that I think he wrenched my shoulder. "We are not playing this game, Daniel. I'll drag you kicking and screaming if I must."

I'm about to go ghost when I see Eileen remove the very heavy projector from its stand. Yet another reminder to anyone who forgot that she's a ghost.

"The fellow doth project too much, methinks," I quip.

Vlad raises an eyebrow. "Do you mean 'protest?'"

"No, he doesn't!" Eileen announces before slamming the projector down on my attacker's head hard enough that the projector is in pieces around Vlad's dazed and bruised form.

Moments later, Plasmius is once again tucked all snuggly inside a Fenton Thermos. Two public attacks on my human-form in as many days. What could it mean?

"Are you okay, Danny?" Eileen asks.

I tuck the Thermos back into pocketspace, the pseudo-dimension where ghosts store things. "My shoulder hurts, but other than that. Thanks for the save."

"Of course. But, if anyone asks, it was Vlad who broke the projector." She glances worriedly at the shattered window. "Is this what happened at the movies? He just showed up out of nowhere?"

"Pretty much," I confirm. "We think he might have an unsatisfied core. But, we don't know what his Obsession is, so we have no idea what it would have to do with me."

Eileen hums and puts her hands on her hips. "I wonder if it could be a fixation."

I shiver. "God, I hope not."

A fixation happens when there's a very specific thing you want that relates to your Obsession. Your core becomes insatiable until your fixation is resolved. I had a fixation of my own until the other day and let me tell you, it was not pleasant. I hadn't even known about it until it was almost over. I'd been fixated on keeping the town safe and spent every second I could working on that. (There's more to it, but that's a whole other can of worms.) Then I went on a double date outside of town and wound up being in so much pain that we cut it short.

If Vlad is fixated on me, then this is worse than I thought.

I'll never admit to how many eggshells I've been walking on in my own home for the past two months. Danny Phantom would occasionally work in the lab with Mom and Dad and pretend he wasn't quaking in his stark white boots. I had to keep my composure through ectoplasm drawings and radiation testing and whatever that zappy thing was. As a person who died by electrocution, I hated the zappy thing the most.

Meanwhile, Danny Fenton had to pretend that he wasn't sick to his stomach whenever his parents would casually go over Phantom's test results. By some miracle, nothing keyed them in that their sworn enemy wasn't quite as spectral as some. At most, my parents thought that my ghost DNA was "highly unusual." They definitely would have said if they figured out that a ghost/human hybrid was possible.

I'm taking a lot of risks, but I'd rip out my own core to protect this town.

Sadly, my break from the preparations isn't quite as relaxing as I'd anticipated. Because I didn't want to chance Vlad coming straight back here via my parents' Ghost Portal, this time I created a portal of my own - I can do that now - and released him into that. I don't know how long he'll stay in the Ghost Zone. Given how quickly he got out the first time, I give it a day at most.

"Sweetie?" Mom's gentle tone brings me out of my thoughts. "Are you alright?" She points to my untouched dinner with her fork. "You haven't touched your food. You usually love spaghetti."

She's right. Pasta with meatballs is one of my favorites. "Sorry. I don't have much of an appetite today."

"Can't say I blame you, son," Dad says, though it comes out a little garbled because he's talking with his mouth full. At Jazz and Mom's dirty looks, he swallows before speaking again. "We heard the Wisconsin Ghost," meaning Vlad, "attacked your school. Destroyed one of the classrooms, they say. That had to have been a shock."

That's one way to put it.

"What's more shocking," Mom says, delving into science mode, "is that the Wisconsin Ghost doesn't usually interact with humans. The only time we saw him do that was at our college reunion, and that was well over two years ago."

Jazz, whom I already discussed this with, raises her hands at her sides. "Let's not talk about this here. No one was seriously hurt, and the ghost was taken care of. We're all safe now," she adds for my benefit, though I can see that her confidence is forced.

"Well, don't you worry, son," Dad says with a determined grin. He stabs a meatball with his fork and points it at me. "If that putrid protoplasm tries anything, we'll make sure he regrets it." He starts to put the meatball in his mouth but stops and asks, "Just so we're clear, that is one of the ghosts you kids hate, right?"

Mom suddenly becomes very focused on twirling noodles around her fork.

After my - Phantom's - birthday party two days ago, it became very clear who was on my and Jazz's side when it came to ghosts. Sort of on our side at any rate. Mom had read us the riot act about attending a party with so many ghosts present. Dad had tried to de-escalate by stating that they only want me and Jazz to be safe. Our parents' hatred of ghosts burns with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, but they know that their children don't feel the same way. In the end, they promised to let us befriend whoever we want, and it was clear that Dad was the reason for that decision. Mom is still unhappy about it, but at least she's willing to go along with it.

My appetite is starting to return. I spear one of my meatballs. "I'll put it this way," I say. "If something bad happened to the caped cheesehead, I'd pop the champagne."

"And, I'd bring the confetti," Jazz adds.

After dinner, I tell Mom and Dad that I'm going for a walk. In actuality, I'm doing a sweep of the town in case Vlad shows up. Am I being paranoid? Maybe, but better safe than sorry.

At any rate, the patrol turns out to be worth it when my Ghost Sense goes off near the pet store. I phase in there through the roof and follow the sounds of panicked barks and meows.

Dogs and cats are huddled in a corner of the store while a chubby man with mint green skin and pink striped pajamas demands friendship. As annoying as Klemper is, I can't help feeling the slightest bit guilty about fighting him. He's not a bad guy at all. He's just the most socially inept creature in the universe.

As if proving this, he inches closer and closer to the cowering innocents with his hands out and ready to grab whatever unlucky critter he can get to first. "It's okay, doggies and kitties. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to be your friend!"

"Down, boy!" I shout, grabbing Klemper from behind and throwing him into the ceiling. "Or, up, I suppose."

I fly at him before he can recover and ram him with my shoulder, phasing us both through the ceiling. Now that we're in the sky and away from defenseless animals and people, I can properly fight off this yahoo.

Klemper is thrown back but recovers quickly. He inhales then blows a harsh wave of air at me. I hold out my hands and form a green shield, feeling his ice breath blow past my sides as it's blocked by my energy.

Once the wind calms, I grab my Hard Light shield and curl it into a funnel. My throat chills as I put my mouth around the narrow end and blow as hard as I can. (That's what she said, ha ha.) My ice breath comes out twice as hard as Klemper's, even containing a mass of snow flurries. Klemper raises his hands against it, which proves to be futile when he ends up as a floating ice sculpture.

I dissipate my Hard Light, but I keep my guard up. Klemper breaks free of the ice encasing him. He forms chunks of ice in his hands and starts pelting me with them, crying out a pathetic, "Why won't anyone be my friend?"

As a fellow unpopular chump, I truly do feel for the guy. That being said…

"I can think of a few reasons," I reply, forming some fresh Hard Light into a glowing baseball bat.

I smack the ice chunks as well as I can, but they're coming at me fast enough that I still take a few hits. I don't let the incoming bruises faze me. With each swing of my bat, I propel myself a little closer until I'm in range. Klemper doesn't see it coming until he takes a bat to the chest.

He's sent flying back, and I don't let him get far before I dissipate my bat, whip out the Thermos, and suck him into it. He screams as he's pulled in by a huge rush of wind, and I clamp the lid on while my core purrs at my success.

I put away the Thermos, check to make sure all the animals and pet store employees are okay (they are), and fly home.

I descend into an alley a block from my house and switch into human-form. I've barely started walking when a seemingly human man sprints across the street to meet up with me. The man is a foot taller than me, has his long silver hair pulled into a low ponytail, and is wearing his usual overpriced suit.

He also happens to be half-ghost, and I've been dealing with that ghost-half more often than I'd like. Though to be fair, I'd like to never deal with it.

"So, since kidnapping me in ghost-form wasn't doing it for you," I say, "you are now trying it in human-form. You do know how it will look if people see the mayor kidnapping a teenager, right?"

"A risk I'm willing to take," Vlad snaps.

His tone makes me stand at attention. Now that I'm really looking at him, it's easy to see that the man isn't well. Or rather, less well than usual. His ponytail is messy and looks like it was simply thrown in place. His goatee needs a trim. His clothes are still immaculate, but they hang a little loose, as if their owner has lost weight. There are faint bags under his eyes and a wildness to his dark blue gaze that sends a shot of real fear up my spine.

"Are you on some new medication I should know about?" I ask, refusing to let him see how nervous I am.

Vlad takes my hand, squeezes hard enough that my bones would break if I wasn't a halfa. "Everyone thinks your father is my best friend," he says. "No one will question it if they see you riding home with me."

This is getting too child-molester-y for my liking. Though, his words do give me an idea.

I yank my throbbing hand free. "I'll hear you out, Vlad, but I'm not going anywhere with you until I know what's going on." I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. "Let's talk in that alley. Should be more private there."

Vlad slumps forward. "Thank you." If I didn't know better, I'd say that his eyes dampen a little.

He often mocks me for my "soft heart," and he might be right to. My desire to help him has nothing to do with Obsession. Still, this is Vlad Masters/Plasmius we're talking about. He wasn't the first to try the "wounded animal" tactic on me, and I'm certain he won't be the last.

I backtrack into the alley, highly conscious of the man behind me. Once we're both in the alley and alone, I gesture for him to speak.

"Now, Daniel," he says, "I know that-"

I love the look on his face when I release Klemper from the Thermos.

"Hey, Klemper," I say to the confused ghost now standing next to me. I point to Vlad with both hands. "This guy was just telling me how much he wants to be your friend."

Klemper gasps and presses his large hands to his cheeks.

"Uh, what?" Vlad sputters.

Klemper latches on to him so fast that the duo almost fall backwards. "You want to be my friend?"

With a harsh scowl, Vlad tries to shove him away to no avail. "A-absolutely-"

"Absolutely!" I say, stepping around them. "He said, 'absolutely.' You kids have fun."

I bolt for home while an angry shout of "Daniel!" echoes behind me. Klemper won't hold off Vlad for long.

When I get home, no one is in the living room to ask why I'm so uneasy, and I'm grateful. I breathe a sigh of relief and walk over to the window, half expecting Vlad to come barreling down the sidewalk. Up in the sky, Klemper is flying away and carrying a huge hunk of ice. Even from this angle and distance, I can tell that it's a frozen authority figure he's carrying.

The sight should make me happier than it does.

Vlad should have been able to fight off Klemper with one hand tied behind his back. He should have no trouble breaking free from being frozen solid. It's not just Vlad's behavior that's different. He's weaker, too.

Jazz's theory about his core and Eileen's theory of fixation ring through my mind.

Vlad Plasmius is well-known to be the evil arch nemesis of Danny Phantom. Vlad Masters, to the unaware, is a put-together individual who is standoffish at worst. He doesn't have to keep up appearances in ghost-form, but if he's in as poor shape as he looks, he must be working double time to make everyone think that their mayor is okay.

I shouldn't care. There is not a single reason why I should care about Vlad.

But, curse my soft heart, I do care. Just a little (more than I will ever admit). Because I've been there. I've had those crippling pains and those scary thoughts and that unbridled need to do something. Who knows how long Vlad has felt like that?

The only good thing about this is that, if I'm the target of his Obsession-fueled madness, then nobody else is.

Maybe it's my own Obsession-fueled madness talking, but I want to help Vlad. No matter who they are, I don't like seeing people suffer.

Even if they totally deserve it.