the hunted / the chosen few
Aposiopesis
Danny put his hands to his temples. "Mom and Dad are going to kill me! And I have no idea if that's an exaggeration!"
"Hey, come on," Tucker said. "We're not going to let anything happen to you."
"Really?" Danny said. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Two normal fourteen-year-olds and a baby ghost versus two experienced ghost hunters?
Sam smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, we're not going to abandon you just cause you're a little different. It's not like we were the pinnacle of normalcy before this."
Tucker patted Danny on the back. "Yeah, we can work this out together. Ghost or no ghost."
Danny suddenly felt like he was next to a staticky balloon. A light passed over his eyes.
"What just happened?" Danny asked. "I feel heavy."
"You — you changed back to normal!" Sam said.
Tucker tapped something into his PDA. "Okay, this is too weird. I'm looking up anything that could've caused this. Any suggestions?"
Danny shrugged weakly. "Ghosts, I guess. I don't know any more about this than —" The lights and static sensation returned. "— you do," he finished in the ghost's voice.
Then he started sinking into the floor.
Danny couldn't see anything, but he could feel himself. It wasn't that he felt gravity like he normally did, but somehow, he knew he was rapidly going down.
He wasn't sure how much time he spent under the lab. A small part of him wanted to stay where it was cool, dark, and peaceful. The rest was terrified and instinctually scrambling for a handhold.
Up! he thought. Go up!
He suddenly shot upwards into the lab, where Sam and Tucker were on their hands and knees over the spot he'd fallen through. Danny became solid just in time to hit the ceiling on the other side of the room.
Tucker jumped back. "Aah! Don't scare us like that!"
Danny rubbed his head. "Sorry, Tuck. It wasn't on purpose. Apparently I can walk through walls and fly, but only when it's inconvenient."
Trying to land, he smacked his head into a wall again. "Ow. The flying is easier."
As he fell, he felt the static.
"Can you control the change?" Sam asked.
Danny tried to remember the feeling — his extremities numbing and sparking, his hair standing on end, his vision consumed by light.
"Come on!" he said to nobody in particular. "Go ghost!"
His hand lighted up for a second, then faded. "Signs point to 'no,'" he said. "But I think I could with some practice."
Sam and Tucker looked at each other with concern.
"I mean, this is classic origin story stuff, guys," Danny said. "When I go ghost, I change from my mild-mannered secret identity to… Danny Phantom!"
"Are you messing with us right now?" Tucker asked.
"I'm honestly not sure," Danny admitted.
"And you want us to call you 'Danny Phantom' when you're a ghost?" Sam asked.
Tucker put his hand on his chin. "I guess it could work. Not sure about the 'Danny' part."
"Don't listen to him," Sam said. "Nobody should decide that but you."
The first day of sixth grade, Sam had shown up with long hair and a black skirt. At lunch, she'd stood on top of a cafeteria table and yelled to the rest of Lunch Period A, "Hey, everybody! I'm a girl! My name is Sam! End of story!" She'd described the ensuing detention as "totally worth it."
Danny admired her for doing that. Maybe he could be as brave.
"Well, I need to call myself something, right?" He laughed awkwardly.
"How about we just go find your mom's first aid kit?" Tucker said.
Maddie clucked over Danny, whose head was in her lap. "Sweetie, you and your friends have to be more careful around all that equipment. Sure, it's 'just' a bruise, but it could have been really serious! What if you'd been electrocuted? Or zapped with an ecto-ray?"
"Yeah, what if," Danny mumbled, adjusting his ice pack. What if I'd died for real?
"It's okay if you're having a lot of emotions about this," Jazz said, looking up from Conspiracy Theorists and You: Positive Interactions with Implausible Viewpoints. "Injuries can be traumatic, especially for someone at your developmental stage."
"Jazz, I tripped and hit my head. Stop trying to psychoanalyze me." Danny hoped he sounded calmer than he felt.
"If you ever need to talk —"
"Last I checked, Jazz, you have to actually graduate college to be a therapist."
"Honestly, Danny, you should take neuroscience more seriously. Who do you think designed Concerta? Or Wellbutrin?"
"Ooh, you remembered my prescriptions!" Danny rolled his eyes. "Just cause I take some medicines doesn't mean I have to know everything about them."
"No, but you should at least appreciate the science as both a fellow enthusiast and a consumer."
"I like space. Not brains. Speaking of brains, don't you have a light switch to flick or something?"
"Don't be mean to Jazz, honey," Maddie said.
"Fine."
"Ladies! You'll never believe this!"shouted a booming voice from just outside the room.
Maddie, Jazz, and Danny turned to look at Jack, who was standing in the middle of the doorway.
"What is it, dear?" Maddie asked.
"The Fenton Portal! It's working!"
"Well, that's strange," Maddie said. "I didn't activate it."
Jazz slammed her book shut. "I'm not going to enable this ghost obsession," she said. "I'm going to my room."
"Hmm," Jack said, stepping to the left to let Jazz pass. "I didn't activate it either, so that leaves one possibility. Ghosts!"
Danny winced.
"Jack, sweetie, how would the ghosts open the portal from this side?" Maddie asked.
Danny sat up. "Actually, I've been meaning to tell you, when I hit my head earlier —"
Maddie snapped. "Of course — percussive maintenance! You must have inadvertently closed a circuit!"
"You hit it with your head until it worked?!" Jack grinned and pulled Danny into a bear hug. "Angelina Fenton, you're your father's daughter!"
