Portals

Proven

Randy was a master of the easy walk that made a man owner of the streets. Danny just followed in his wake. Amity Park wasn't this crowded during parades, and according to Randy, they were walking through a shopping rush.

"Thank your lucky stars you got here on a Friday, Fenton. At least you get to orient yourself a bit before being tossed into the cesspool of Norrisville High."

"I won't consider this lucky if there was a four-leafed clover in every sidewalk crack," the half-ghost grumbled. "When are we going to get to the arcade?"

"Game Hole," Randy corrected, "and soon. Don't let Howard hear you say that, he'll call you a shoob for sure."

Danny was going to ask something about the definition of "shoob" but Randy had plowed through a particularly crowded section of sidewalk and vanished. He tried to do the same, but ended up stumbling blindly through the mass of people and landing on a completely unfamiliar street corner. "Randy? Randy!"

He shoved his hair out of his eyes and tried looking up. No street cameras that would see a teenage boy vanish into thin air. He could try going invisible and scanning the streets for the slim boy by air.

His heart began to beat for what felt like the first time in weeks. This was what heroing was supposed to be like. This was what it was supposed to feel like. He'd never admit it to his parents, but some primal part of him liked the thrill of knowing that he lived in the same house as people who would 'tear him apart molecule by molecule' as soon as they got his hands on him.

"Danny?"

The half-ghost jerked around as someone tapped his shoulder. Randy. The Ninja's expression tightened when he saw the look on Danny's face. "Were you about to ghost o'clock?"

"What?" Danny stuck out his tongue. "Is that what you call going ninja?"

"That just sounds wrong."

"Ugh, fine." Danny shoved his hands into his pockets. "So where is this Game Gap?"

"Game Hole," Randy corrected matter-of-factly. "And you're standing in front of it. I went inside and you didn't, you shoob."

Danny blushed, then trailed in after Randy.

Sure enough, Howard was there, smashing a plastic red button on a game console with Grave Puncher emblazoned on the side with one meaty fist. "Randy, thank cheese you're here. I'm about to break the high score."

"What? No way." Randy rushed over to peer at the screen, forgetting that Danny existed.

The half-ghost sighed and leaned against the dirty counter of the arcade. A brunette man with rather long hair walked up behind him and crossed his arms. "Those two are almost always here."

Danny glanced at him. "Sorry, who are you?"

He spread his arms, the wisps of mustache quivering like they were about to fall off. "Greg, of Greg's Game Hole."

Danny turned back around. "Oh. I take it that you're talking about Howard and Randy then."

"Uh, yeah." The older man scratched his head. "Kid, I haven't seen you around here before."

"It's Danny."

"Okay, Danny. Can I get you something to eat or drink, or what?"

"I'll take some nachos. Easy on the cheese."

As Greg wandered off, Danny scanned the arcade floor. It was pretty small, with some odd games. Did that one have roadkill in the title? Gross.

His eye came to a stop at a console titled GhostStoppers. Two orange guns attached by wires hung from it. That looked awesome.

He pulled what he had from his pocket. A buck fifty was barely enough to pay for the food he just ordered. He sidled over to the register, turned his hand intangible, and fished out a pair of quarters. It wasn't stealing, not really. Greg would get the money back in the end. He just wanted to try the game.

He dropped his own money on the counter and wandered over to the console, his ears catching a ba-ba-ba-bum from the other side of the arcade and the groans of Randy and Howard. Then it was just the steady clink-clink of the quarters landing in the machine's well and the Ready? Go! of the generic narrator that counted down from three.

He held up the plastic weapon, weighing it. It was lighter than what he was used to, nothing. It was almost less than the thermos. He raised it to the screen and blasted the little green glob coming towards him out of existence. He naturally tried to reload and was distracted for a moment when it didn't work. But it wasn't long enough for him to lose any health.

The character trooped through the levels: swamps, mansions, cemeteries. It almost made Danny laugh. Greg came out from behind the counter to deliver the nachos and paused behind him, gawping at the score. "The cheese?"

Danny had gone into ghost hunting mode. He wouldn't be surprised if someone had told him that his eyes were green. There were two more people behind him now. Randy and Howard. He didn't care.

The final boss popped up. It looked surprisingly like the Fright Knight, the purple-clad minion of the Ghost King. But then again, Danny was the Ghost King now.

The half-ghost slung the gun over his shoulder with ease, his freed hand lunging to take the manual controls instead of the automatic ones the game provided. Long nights of playing PC games had trained him well and he smashed the buttons to avoid sweeps from the knight's sword. All the while he made good use of the rapid fire power up he had gotten around level seventeen, landing blow after blow on the weak, rather obvious chinks in his armor. Oh, if only the Fright Knight had been this easy.

With a groan, the video game beast fell to its knees and keeled onto its face. Giant white letters pulsed across the screen.

You Win!

Danny spun the gun and slammed it into its holster, almost cracking the plastic. He chuckled to himself as he ran through the letters for his initials on the scoreboard.

DFP

A pulsing one appeared next to the letters, followed by a score in the nine hundred thousands. He spun, only to almost crash into Greg's chest.

"What the-"

"You didn't just beat the high score," Howard gibbered. "You crushed it. Did you take any damage?"

"Nope. But what can I say?" Danny shrugged and pushed through the small mass of people that had gathered around him. "Ghost hunting's in my DNA."