Yikes… well, it's finally time for the unveiling. I really cannot convey how excited I am for this story to finally be on the site. It has taken me a lot of time to write and edit and I am thankful to all my friends who have proofread my work and made sure that I do not look like a fool.

I owe a special thanks to the people who commented on the note I left—thank you for the kind words and motivation that you gave me. You all mean the world and with this, we shall move onto what needs to be addressed before we jump into this Prologue.

One thing I would really like to say is that there will bephysicalas well as mental changes that the main characters—mainly Danny and Vlad, of course—undergo. However, I do not want you to get too sidetracked by them since that is second in comparison to the mental changes… Second, there will be some OC's that are to be paid attention to; I will make sure that you know which ones. There will be some minor OC's, but I think you'll be able to weed them out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom.

Prologue

"He used his superb instincts to call Poison Control and an ambulance for the convulsing Vlad M. It is said by many that without the quick thinking of Jack Fenton, Vlad M. would have perished that afternoon…"

The elder hybrid could not believe what he was reading.

How dare they commend Jack Fenton of all people? The article did not tell that Jack Fenton was the one responsible for the malfunction in the first place and instead portrayed him as the hero! It made Vlad sick to his stomach to read such garbage.

Nauseous from the short description, Vlad crumpled threw the ancient paper across the room. It landed in front of the crackling fire that roared in the grate, its light reflecting eerily on the fading ink and providing a soft orange glow.

He stood there for a few minutes before daring to venture over to his desk. Each movement was haughty and tight, not at all suave and confident. Re-reading the filth from his past only succeeded in winding up the elder halfa more. And he had already been stressed.

It wasn't enough that Vlad was dealing with the upcoming anniversary of his half-death, but he also was tied down with tons of paperwork and files at the office—he had to remind himself that it was his idea to propose a newer model of the ecto-flamethrower to his superiors.

Exhaustion threatened to close his eyes as he finally sat heavily into his home office seat and turned it towards the warmth of the flames. He did not pay attention to the distracting light playing across his sensitive eyes and instead focused on the picture that was the main focus of his overhead mantle.

A younger Jack and Maddie stood on either side of him, their arms intertwined around his waist. Vlad's arms wrapped around his old-comrades' shoulders affectionately; his smile was the biggest.

Anger rocketed through him and at breakneck speeds; Vlad rose from his chair, took the picture, and slammed it as hard as he could against the cold marble of the fireplace.

The result was shattered glass and, to his annoyance, a bloody hand.

But he ignored that. He focused solely on the split picture frame, pieces of glass still sticking to the picture on the inside.

It resembles our friendship: shattered and irreplaceable, he thought with mirth. The Jack Fenton and the Vlad Masters in the picture no longer existed. No longer did they feel as brothers. They were strangers to one another that could never be acquaintances.

Nimble fingers plucked the picture from its frame and in one swift motion, ripped it. The picture that was left showed an entirely different story. While Vlad and Maddie were wrapped in each others' gangly limbs, Jack was now ostracized.

Vlad placed the picture of Maddie and he in the top drawer of his desk and held onto the shredded piece of picture that was Jack Fenton.

The hybrid picked up the ancient article and stuck the torn picture of Jack in the topmost corner.

In his bloody hand, Vlad ignored the pain and summoned an electrically charged ball of energy. He applied the chill from his ghost core into the beam to make it cold and brought it down on the two pieces of parchment in his other hand.

Letting out a yell of satisfaction, Vlad clapped his hand over the contents of his hand and drew in a breath. The pages were soaked with a cool fuchsia slime, almost like a paste.

The slime would take on the roll of gasoline… only much more flammable and dangerous.

He breathed heavily while lowering the pages to the flames, his eyes glowering with hatred and triumph at the deed.

Though this was not literally killing Jack, it was a start. And Vlad Masters could not suppress the growing excitement that welled beneath his chest. All his hatred and his injustice were being let out in an outlet that he was sure to carry out in reality soon enough.

For the first time all morning, the half ghost smiled. "Oh Jack, what I am about to do to this paper is nothing compared to what I will eventually do to you."

Taking in one last harried breath, Vlad opened his fingers and allowed the stained items to drop straight into the crackling flames.

They sank into the intense heat and began to decompose right before his eyes, the memories changing into ashes. The feeling in his gut was sensational, one that he knew he would feel once the actual Jack Fenton was finished off.

He continued to watch until there was nothing left but melted debris amongst the firewood.

This is a good morning routine,he thought dryly.

He was momentarily lost in his fantasies when, breaking him from his reverie, the clock chimed loudly.

The billionaire was due to leave for work and if he was being perfectly honest, he did not contain the patience in order to deal with the flaming imbeciles that ran the laboratories. But sadly, if he was to maintain the luxuries that he kept in his fabulous Wisconsin mansion, he had to go to work.

With one last look at the crackling fire, Vlad sent a blast of cold energy towards the flames. On impact, the fire stuttered to a halt and faded to nothing but pillars of silver smoke.

Vlad had used his right hand, the hand that was injured… or should he say oncewas. The cuts that covered his palm and fingers were now perfectly healed and a pale pink. There was no need to bandage the wounds or give himself stitches.

Pivoting on his heel and heading out of his office to the front door, Vlad cackled.

Though Jack Fenton held a family and what seemed to be a perfect life, there was one thing the oaf did not hold. One perk of being a half ghost was the immortality and indestructibility it brought.

Two things, he was sure, that were able to take down Fenton once and for all.