The oddest thing about it, Danny thought later, was how ordinary the day had been.

It had been a sunny, Wednesday afternoon. There'd been only two ghost attacks that day, both in the morning, and thankfully both far, far away from Casper High. As usual, he and Sam and Tucker had walked home, and as was, not usual, but frequent, he'd said goodbye to them as they split off to get to their respective homes.

Then again, in hindsight, if things had been more dramatic, if the sky had been overcast on the verge of raining, or if he'd taken that alley shortcut at night, he probably would have seen Phantom's glow behind the rubbish bins before nearly practically tripping over him.

He recovered his balance, looked to see what was under his feet, screamed in an absolutely not girly manner, regardless of what anyone else might say, reeled, and felt his back slam into the opposite alley wall, frozen in fear.

It was a reaction to ghosts he'd had for years, and it was always horrible waiting for his mind to unfreeze and his limbs to unstick so he could actually run away at top speed. His parents had tried to train him out of it multiple times, and Jazz had psychologically speculated about it, and neither of them had helped. As fear reactions went, it wasn't as bad as those fainting goats he'd seen on YouTube, but it still wasn't pleasant.

Green eyes locked to him, and he felt the iron grip around his limbs tighten. Come on, move, please move. The ghost, and his legs, stayed where they were.

He shouldn't have been that surprised about it. Now that he came to notice, a large puddle of familiarly glowing green had pooled around where it was slumped in the corner of the trash and the wall, spilling from an ugly looking chest wound that a gloved hand was futilely trying to plug. The pool showed scrapes and splatters along one edge and Danny knew if he looked down he'd probably see his sneakers were stained with the same substance. Ew.

He still couldn't take his eyes from it, though. Everyone knew about Phantom. A very powerful ghost, strong enough to take down quite a few others, and who did so, proclaiming himself the city's hero. Strong, fast, invincible, dangerous Phantom.

Bleeding in a back alley.

In a detached manner, he wondered exactly how much Paulina would freak out if she were here.

The ghost coughed, and more ectoplasm splattered into and merged with the growing puddle. Green sparks flickered and crackled around its form, causing it to spasm and its face to contort with pain in a strangled scream. When they stopped, it slumped further, even though Danny had previously thought it to be at maximum slumping level.

"You should…," it rasped, quietly, and Danny flinched at its sudden voice. "…move… along, citizen." It tried for a weak smile, but only managed 'pained'.

"Danny."

Danny was just as surprised as anyone when he heard himself speak. The instinctual anchors on his bones were ebbing away at the distinct lack of threat, though his rational mind ensured some caution remained. His parents had warned him that even a greatly injured ghost could do a lot of damage before it finally disintegrated. He shifted from one foot to the other, ready to move as soon as it tried anything.

"My name's Danny."

"Danny," it repeated, with clear effort. "You… should leave. You don't… want to see… this."

A sound came from around the corner, and both heads snapped towards it. It resolved into voices, and the slight movement of shadows on the wall. Voices, Danny realized with a start, that he recognized.

"…trail leads here. We've finally caught him!"

"Ooh, I can't wait to find out what makes this spook tick!"

Danny didn't think it was possible for a ghost to pale, but Phantom managed it. "Go," it hissed at him, eyes white all around the irises. He'd never seen such raw fear in anyone's before, and as the voices came closer and the shadows got larger, he watch as it flickered and died /literally, the glow of them dulled) into a neck baring resignation that was somehow even worse.

Danny made a decision that altered everything that came after, and which at the time the rest of him had been screaming was absolutely stupid. He took off his backpack and began rapidly rummaging through it. The ghost gave him a puzzled expression, which quickly turned into a wary one when what Danny had been looking for rolled out onto the concrete with a clink.

When the ghost attacks had increased in frequency a few years ago, his parents had given him a new invention to carry around. The school had confiscated the ectogun they'd previously given him to protect himself after Lancer had seen it in his locker, something he would never admit to them he was grateful for, and to replace it they'd decided on something relatively innocuous looking, although the word could only ever be dubiously applied to Fenton tech. A thermos which could, apparently, suck in and trap ghosts, and his dad had clapped him on the back so hard he'd nearly fallen over and told him that if he caught any ghosts he could bring them to him.

It had never been used.

Danny picked it up in shaking hands, the ghost's gaze not leaving it even as it moved. He licked his lips.

"This… it's for containment. Of ghosts," he whispered. He uncapped it, and the ghost tensed. He looked at the direction his parents were coming from. They were taking their time, talking to each other, probably cataloging whatever trail they'd been talking about, confident that their prey couldn't escape. The ghost looked too, eyes flicking between there and the thermos. "…Do you trust me?"

One second, two… and the ghost slowly nodded, still looking uneasy, but not as paradoxically dead as it had a second ago. Danny took a deep breath, now or never, pointed the business end towards the spectre, closed his eyes, and pressed the red button.

His dad had never told him about the recoil.

He was jerked forward as a bright white flash turned the insides of his eyelids red, and ended up dropping it with a clatter as he stumbled. He opened his eyes to see it roll to the edge of the now empty ectoplasm pool, a small stream of white smoke coming from the muzzle and a green light that hadn't been there before blinking on the side which presumably meant it was occupied. He hurriedly snatched it up and capped it, shoving it back into his bag and standing up straight just as his parents rounded the corner.

He pasted what he hoped was a convincing grin on his face.

Maddie took one look at the ectoplasm pool and Danny's pale, shaken countenance, and rushed over to him, checking him over with motherly concern. "Oh, sweetie. It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"Did you show it the old Fenton one two?" His dad followed up behind, dragging something that looked like a weird kind of vacuum cleaner. "Aha!" He pointed the nozzle at the puddle and fired, and nothing happened. "Hmmm, it's not there."

"That's odd." His mother replied. "It shouldn't have been able to move." Danny's strained grin nervously widened as she looked at him.

"It, uh, it wasn't there!" he blurted out. "I just slipped on some ectoplasm, I'll be all right!" There was a nervewrecking beat, and his mother sighed.

"That's the second time this one's escaped," she frowned, looking at the puddle that was all that remained. "Looks like it disintegrated before we got here, Jack." Behind her, Danny couldn't help exhaling in relief.

Jack looked like a kid who'd had his puppy kicked and then been told that Christmas wasn't coming this year. "Aww, I wanted to test out the Weasel."

"Maybe next time, dear." She pecked him on the cheek, and Danny made a face.

As he walked home with the embarrassment that was his parents, he was hyperaware of the small, clinking weight in his backpack that jostled with each step.

He had no idea why he'd done that, and no idea what he was going to do now.