Prologue: DVD Menu/Kids Will Be Skeletons

Amity Park had always been a relatively quiet town. The mini-city atmosphere lent itself to neighborly interactions and a small hometown feel while still boasting more culture and entertainment than the average midwestern city.

Crime had never been much of a concern. Parents tended to be lenient when it came to their kids' freedom and seldom asked "where they were going" or "who were they going with". Curfews, if they existed, were rarely enforced, and in turn the kids of Amity Park tended to stay out of trouble.

Sometime in the early fall of 2004, there was a shift in that friendly, mundane atmosphere. Seemingly overnight, there was a near-palpable change in the energy that flowed through the city. There was nothing different about the city itself, nor its residents–neighbors still greeted each other on the streets, colleagues met for casual lunch hours outside of their offices, the Casper High School football team trained for the new season with the same enthusiasm as any other year. But suddenly, it was like there was a flavor of electricity in the air. A strange vibration that no one could quite put their finger on.

And around that same time in the early fall of 2004, Amity Park forgot what it was to be a quiet town.

The sun was beginning to rise later. Further and further into the morning hours, the streets stayed lit by the degraded LED street lights, bathing the city in a soft violet glow. The streets themselves were quiet, though whether or not the sun rose late the city's white-collar office drones would soon have to hit the road and start their days. Stoplights clicked from red to green in empty intersections.

The sun rose higher, extinguishing the last of the few stars that were visible through the light pollution. Street lamps flicked off one at a time with no particular pattern. On the outskirts of town, a paperboy tossed rolled up newsprint to each stoop of a collection of row houses. In the corner lot was a stand-alone building, unassuming from the level of the street, but as he always did when he was assigned this route, the paperboy stopped and straddled his bike, glancing up in awe at the red brick building, so unique from its neighbors.

Above the building's front door, the whole front wall was illuminated in green light from the enormous neon sign announcing the home's residents: FENTONWORKS. If the paperboy craned his neck even further, the bizarre dome-like metal structure that was nested atop the flat roof towered over him, only the underside washed in an eerie mixture of purple and green light. As he watched, the sun rose over the backside of the building and blindingly reflected off of the alien-looking addition to the house, effectively triggering the rest of the street's lights to shut off.

The boy realized his mouth was gaping and quickly closed it. He'd heard his parents complain about the "eyesore" on the corner, but he'd never understood how nobody else could see just how cool the place was. Not to mention the number of times their town's salvation had come straight from Fentonworks–he was young, but he remembered enough to know that while the Fentons were far from revered, their expertise had done the town more good than harm. Them, and Phantom.

The paperboy felt himself start to smile. The kids in his class had all agreed one day during gym class: none of them could remember a time when Phantom wasn't around to save the day, just like none of them could seem to remember a time when ghosts weren't a constant irritant to Amity Park's day-to-day activity. He wasn't alone in idolizing the ghost boy, most kids his age unabashedly supported him regardless of their parents' mixed feelings. It seemed to the kids that there was nothing to question about the heroism of a ghost fighting other ghosts, like fighting fire with fire. While the Fentons had their expertise, Phantom had the firepower. And anytime he happened to encounter the ghost boy from a distance as he fought whatever foe was bothering the town that day, the paperboy had seen the passion in his glowing green eyes. Firepower and passion. He loved what he did.

He loved protecting Amity Park.

The paperboy tore his eyes away from Fentonworks and looked down at the roll of newsprint in his hands, dated September 18, 2007. The headline was partially visible in bold block print: PHANTOM MENACE: GHOST BOY FLEES DEMOLISHED ELECTRONIC SHOP OVERNIGHT, THOUSANDS IN DAMAGE. A grainy security image of a white-haired specter about to dart through the wall of a shop in shambles was just below it, cut off by the roll.

The smile faded from the boy's face. He despised the press for the reputation they relentlessly forced on Phantom. It was like they needed an enemy, a villain to plaster all over their papers just to get them to sell, and since Phantom was a consistent presence in the town, he was the easy target. Other ghosts came and went (presumably as Phantom took care of them, the boy thought with a smirk), but Phantom had stuck around. Almost as if he'd claimed Amity Park as his home. And the town repaid him with bad press and constant berating.

The paperboy realized he was crushing the roll in his hands and quickly relaxed his fists. He hated this stupid job. His dad had said it would be good discipline in teaching him to wake up early in preparation for high school in a few years. But he couldn't stand the feeling of clocking out every day knowing he'd delivered slander against Phantom to a hundred or so houses.

The paperboy gritted his teeth. Maybe he'd quit. There were easier ways to prepare for high school that didn't make him feel so guilty, so… slimy. Traitorous.

Frustrated, he sat back on his bike and put all his weight into a pedal to get himself moving again. He reeled his arm back and threw, letting the paper fly with a little more force than necessary. He took off around the corner, the sound of the paper hitting the Fenton's front door ringing in his ears the whole way home.

AN:

here goes it. a story that's been floating around in my head half-formed for more than a decade, and i finally have the inspiration and motiation to put pen to paper, metaphorically speaking. this is my first time ever posting to so bare with me, i can be a bit ancient when it comes to navigating unfamiliar sites-however, i do understand that readers can be very particular about where they get/read their fics, and i wanted to cater to the readers i've already accumulated that may prefer ff to ao3!

that being said-i have been writing and updating this fic weekly over on ao3 and there are currently ten chapters published over there. i'll be updating this one weekly as well, but ao3 will always be ahead of this one! if you find you enjoy it and wanna read ahead, i'll post a link at the end of this author's note!

anyways! a bit about the author just for context: my name is bai or bj, i'm a veteran dp fan and currently a postgrad student in a healthcare field, so my schedule can be kinda hectic but i do my best to write ahead and update fridays (no particular time, so keep a lookout!). my writing partner is my beautiful girl clover, who is actually the world's stinkiest feline nuisance and frequently derails my progress. i'm super super greatful for all of the support and love that circulates through the fanfic community and hope i can bring some joy with my writing!

much love and all the good energy!

xx bj

IN THE SPIRIT OF ABANDON-AO3: /works/55407160/chapters/140582230