Daring Heroics

Casper High

Vice Principal's Office, 12:35pm, Edward Lancer

The day had begun much like any other for Edward Lancer. He'd risen early, arrived to the school early, and started antagonizing his students early. There was so much potential wasted in high school, he'd seen it time and time again from his own trip through; it killed him every time he failed to reach a student he could be so much more and just let it go for the momentary pleasures of being a teenager. He'd already handed out a handful of detentions—two of them to Daniel Fenton, by far the greatest disappointment of his teaching career—by the time lunch rolled around to ruin the rest of his day.

Two of his best athletes (though it pained him to know they were far from his best students) had decided to try and rough up one of his better students at second period lunch, and now he was in the middle of trying to impress upon them that what they'd done was wrong. Unfortunately they seemed to have been hit on the gridiron too many times, because Lancer was having a very hard time making them understand why it was a bad idea to beat up the geeks when one was in high school.

"Mr. Davis, Mr. Feeney. Sit down," he ordered as they tried to get up and leave again, thinking that their place in the food chain would get them off with a warning, or possibly not even that. Lancer shook his head. "You nearly broke Mr. Michelson's nose. At the very least, he will have a black eye."

Mark Davis stared at him blankly, as if trying to ask Lancer again what, exactly, it was that they'd done wrong. Tom Sweeney, however, wasn't even bothering to look interested and was instead playing with the edge of his letterman's jacket, the cotton frayed from what appeared to be regular habit. Lancer imagined that the boy did it in class whenever he didn't want to pay attention. Then he stiffened behind his desk painfully as he realized that 'whenever' might very well be every moment between entering and exiting his classrooms.

"I could suspend the both of you," he said flatly, mouth tight and eyes hard.

That got their attention, and both seniors were up on their feet protesting before Lancer had time to blink. One was shoving his frayed letter jacket forward, as if the large C with its neat row of football pins would save him, and the other looked almost dangerously close to actually threatening Lancer. He ignored the implications from both as he rose, for once the bulk he carried looking imposing as he stared them down until they found their seats again.

"You should be thankful that it's not in my power to expel you. Yet." Lancer bit the word harshly knowing that the threat of expulsion was the worst thing the two could hear at the moment, given how they had reacted to mere suspension. At the least there would be detentions, and it suspension wasn't approved Lancer would make sure they spent the time from now until Christmas trapped for hours every day after school in a classroom.

Mark shifted in his newfound seat. "We were just having some fun, Mr. Lancer. Honest."

Lancer narrowed his eyes. "Your fun caused bodily harm to one my students. That alone is enough reason to have you removed from the football team. More than that, you're going to be brought up at a suspension board—I will not allow students to assault each other in my school!"

Lancer thumped his fist as he let his final say out, and the crack of hand against wood was drowned out by the heavy snap of brick of wood to his left. Lancer stumbled back, body on automatic as he registered the floating apparition in the suddenly open wall, and a glowing blue shield beyond it.

The ghost smiled narrowly, green flames licking up his silvered metal skull. "Humans," he said derisively. "I'm here for Danny Phantom."

Chemistry Lab, 12:38pm, Tucker Foley

The shaking of the building was a foreign feeling as Tucker glanced around, looking for the trouble he instinctively knew was there. It was the downside to senior year, not sharing all or even most of his classes with Danny and Sam. But while Tucker had breezed through anything related to technology, he'd neglected a few necessities for graduation—one being chemistry. Trouble here, and he was trapped in a room full of things that could kill him in a variety of ways. The other students, too, but Tucker had long since decided that thinking of himself in dangerous situations wasn't a bad thing.

So when the ghost attack alarm flickered to life, brilliant orange strobes flashing from over the lab's door, Tucker wasn't surprised like everyone else. Neither was Tucker surprised when the doorway itself went dark and the temperature in the room began to drop. One or more ghosts, there was no way of knowing until they showed themselves.

If Danny had been here he might have known if his friend had a chance to tell him. But Danny wasn't here, he'd finished his chemistry requirement last spring and the lucky bastard was off playing with frogs and Sam in biology. Tucker was alone, he had to wait.

Then again, waiting might not have been the answer.

Despite the now freezing temperatures coming from the doorway Tucker was disgusted to see some of his fellow students racing toward it, heedless of the danger there. "Stop!" he shouted as he surged up and over his lab table. A beaker tilted and spilt, but Tucker ignored it without a second thought. It was only water with a bit of chlorine in it, not dangerous at all in a puddle on the black surface.

A girl named Karen was first to the doorway, and Tucker knew he was too late as her hands stretched out in front of her, short hair swinging carelessly in the moments before she impacted into the barrier that shouldn't have been there. There was silence for a moment, Tucker thought he could hear his blood rushing through the veins of his head, and then there was a loud crack as Karen was tossed up, the force of whatever was blocking the door sending her into the ceiling with bone breaking force. The tiles shuddered, some broke and others fell, and then the girl herself came down on one of the lab tables, breaking half the beakers there and splashing her with undiluted chlorine.

When she convulsed, crying out as it reddened her skin with tiny blisters where it touched, Tucker breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive. Thank god. He was already halfway to her before anyone else moved again, and she was crying when he reached her side. One of her legs was folded awkwardly beneath her, but she hadn't noticed yet.

"Oh god, I can't see, I can't see, my eyes, I'm blind," she was whimpering, but Tucker skidded to his knees next to her with his hoodie already have tugged off to wipe her burnt skin, dap at the blood dripping across her face from her hair.

"No, no, it's just blood," he told her. "Open your eyes, you can see. Come on, we have to make the windows."

It was the last thing he said before the entire lab shook with the force of the windows imploding.

Gymnasium, 12:40pm, Dash Baxter

Gym was the easiest class Dash had ever taken, and he'd made sure that it was always on his class schedule. An easy A on every report card, something he desperately needed since he rarely managed to scrape straight C's otherwise. Even bullying the nerds into doing his homework and projects backfired, since he'd been caught out during sophomore year using that technique to try and pass algebra. He'd been failed and forced to take it again. It had been the worst semester of his life.

But gym? Oh yeah, so easy.

His routine was always the same—Dash hadn't actually participated since he'd hit high school. Coach Tetslaff was always more than happy to let him use it as a chance to get an extra workout in, or turning a blind eye if he wanted to practice his other techniques. He'd perfected his use of the swirlie in gym, so the class was even more dear to him than the easy A made it.

The first ten minutes of class was always a warm up, strictly adhered to since a pulled muscle could easily bench him for a game or more. That wasn't an acceptable option since he had to be the best, and to be the best he had to play every game, catch every ball, make every throw count. Careful stretches, twisting and turning, a few minutes worth of slow jogging in place to make everything loose and limber.

Then two miles on the track, or twenty laps around the basketball court. Today was going to be a lap day since the sky had been dark and foreboding from the moment he'd crawled out of bed. No sense in risking a cold that could cost him valuable play time.

It was easy for him, so damned easy. Twenty laps done and gone in the blink of an eye while the fat kid he'd wedgied in the bathroom before class started huffed and wheezed on his fourth go around the gymnasium. Dash snickered as he slowed down and stopped, his own breathing still easy and his body ready to respond to anything he asked it to do.

Today, he'd butt in on the already begun game of basketball.

The ball was on the other end of the court but Dash didn't have to watch and wait for long before it hit the court only a few feet away from him. He darted out and grabbed it, laughing cruelly as he pushed out a foot and made a petite girl with glasses trip and scrape her knee with friction against the smooth wood. She didn't even protest as she jerked away from him, pulling herself to her feet and limping off the court to sit in a corner, examining her wound and sending baleful stares his way.

Dash only gloated as he set himself up for an easy basket, shooting the ball up and—it hung in the air without moving. Dash glared at it. "What the hell is the idea?" he shouted.

Before Dash had finished his accusation the ball came flying back at him with jarring force. He ducked just in time, the kid behind him not so lucky. Michael Shanks, defense, second string. He went down like a sack of lead and Dash only shook his head as he turned back the now materializing ghost in front of him. He stalked forward, bravado and adrenaline running high making him braver than was safe.

"Dude, what the hell? This is my turf."

The ghost gasped a chuckle that reeked of rotten flesh. Dash didn't have time to gag against the stench before the ghost had reached out with a clawed hand to yank him off of his feet. The cold ground into his wrist and Dash began screaming as one bone cracked, and then another.

"Pitiful human," it rasped. "This is ours now. Give us the Phantom."

Lunchroom, 12:43pm, Paulina Sanchez

Paulina had spent the first three years of high school trying to juggle her schedule into third lunch. It was by far the best place for a girl like her to be, since she was the most popular girl in the school and deserved to have her best slaves fawning over her. Popular and beautiful and undoubtedly the best thing to happen to Casper High since Danny Phantom appeared. Paulina sighed, resting her chin in a hand, taking care to make sure that the lines of her body and neck were as attractive as she could want.

"What's wrong, Paulina?" Amber asked, eyes glued to the girl and a fawning smile plastered to her face. Just another shadow in the long line of Paulina Sanchez wannabe's. Paulina could barely keep her disdain from her face.

"Nothing you would understand," she said. "It's been weeks since I've seen Phantom!" Another sigh, this one more melodramatic than the first.

She'd maintained that she was the only girl for the ghost boy since freshman year. Now at the beginning of her senior year, she still hadn't managed to get the ghost to float still for long enough to tell him that he was her boyfriend. Not that it would last; once she had him in her grasp she'd keep him hanging on just long enough so that she'd always be famous, and then she'd let the ghost go. Maybe in a really dramatic fashion, like letting herself get attacked by one of his enemies. Yeah, that would work.

What passed for a brain in her head began processing her half formed idea as she stared out the windows and at the courtyard. It would be the smartest thing she'd ever done, because then she wouldn't even have to come up with a reason to break up with the ghost boy. If he thought she was in danger from all the other ghosts, then he'd let her go and she could play at the faithful human who loved him. It would be headlines for months, and maybe she could get to LA and talk someone into making a movie.

Paulina Sanchez in…

Her imagination failed her there and Paulina blinked away the thought. For the first time since she'd looked out onto it, Paulina actually saw the courtyard as it was. There were students, which was to be expected. Even this far north the late September day was still warm and vaguely sunny, even if the sky looked like it was thinking of opening up a deluge. It wasn't at all unusual for half of the lunch period to be out there whiling away their half hour of midday freedom, cruising about on skateboards (then racing away from whichever teacher demanded said skateboard), the drama geeks reciting strange plays, the chess club trying to stop whichever jocks had third lunch from destroying their games and boards.

But there were too many students out there, and there were teachers, too. Paulina sat up straighter as she stared. Blood. There was blood, and wasn't that Star over there by Mr. Felluca? And oh, dio, Mr. Felucca was missing part of his ear, and Star's hair was singed short, and that geek was limping.

Paulina jerked out of her seat pointing out the window, thoughts of center stage and popularity shoved from her thoughts as she stood. "Someone, oh, dios mio, call nine-one-one!"

As if she had turned a switch, the students in the cafeteria surged to the windows to stare and gasp and retch at this injury, that bloody whatever, and to scream as they realized on the far side where ghosts. If any of them had been quicker they might have escaped, but none of them realized that the rising roar from behind them was anything but other students. As the first turned to look strips of raw meat began shooting into the crowd, binding, gagging and strangling whoever they landed on.

Behind them was a ghost, a lunchroom lady, and her eyes gleamed red as she pointed and sharp edged dishes began shooting towards them. Paulina tried to scream but it was cut off as a pork chop shoved its way into her mouth and halfway down her throat, gagging her and bringing her to her knees as she tried to pull it out.

The only thing that she could think was, Where is Danny Phantom?

Biology Classroom, 12:45pm, Danny Fenton

His ghost sense had been going off all day, and Danny was honestly beginning to get sick of it. For the first two periods he'd tried running for the bathroom every time it happened, but since he had Lancer second period and the man had given him a week's worth of detention, Danny wasn't much inclined to keep trying that particular trick. So he'd fudged it left and right, using any and everything he could to get out of class for a few minutes at a time during third period.

And it had been nothing but a waste of time, all that detention for more than a dozen false alarms.

By the time lunch had come around Danny was content to sit tight until something actually happened. Especially since he and Sam both had second lunch splitting biology in two. Not that Sam was easy company today, since they were dissecting frogs and Sam had no way out. If she refused like she'd done for three years running, she'd fail the class and fail to graduate. Oh, was she pissed. She'd ranted the first half of lunch and spent the second half trying to figure out if the ghosts were playing tricks on him or if his ghost sense was just off.

A discreet test had proved everything else was in working order, so they decided it was the ghosts and Danny had told her to let it go. He'd stay alert and when something happened he'd be ready. Well, as ready as he could be with a thin string of frog intestines in one hand and a scalpel in the other. He glanced up from the insides of his frog to see Sam across the room. She was green in the face and trying to let her partner do most of the work, but the girl she was relying on was having even bigger problems, squealing every time the scalpel touched the dead frog's viscera.

Sam was actually cutting the poor creature up, and Danny was sure she was about to cry. Failing grade or not, he did detest that they were making her do this. She was smarter than anyone in the class, probably including the teacher. Theoretical knowledge of dissection practices should have sufficed for the only student with a ninety-nine percent average in the class.

He was about to dive back in, scalpel ready and other hand freshly empty, when the room shook and his tray with the frog in it skittered to the side of the table, teetering for a moment before he saved it. Across the room Sam's eyes darted to his and Danny shook his head. His ghost sense had been utterly silent, so to speak, there was no reason for him to try and exit when the teacher was already on her way out the door, the order of, "Scalpels down," echoing as she hurried into the hall.

No one moved even though Danny desperately wanted to cross the room and consult with Sam. Ghost sense or no, his skin was crawling, and Danny didn't have a clue why. Just that something bad was happening, that something was terribly wrong, and that he really needed to do something. But until a ghost showed up, he was trapped as Danny Fenton, a regular high school student who wasn't special, noticeable (unless you were a bully), or anything but clueless.

"There's been an accident in the chemistry lab," was the first thing Ms. Lewis said as she came back into the room, worry on her face. "I want you all to start cleaning up your stations in case we have to evacuate the wing."

There was the ting of metal against pan, the hurried scraping of frog parts being dumped back into their bodies, and then Danny startled away from his tray as the frog twitched. Then it did more than twitch, one leg curling completely, and then the screaming started. It lasted for a few moments before the lights overhead began flickering, and students began running for the door and the dubious safety of the hallway.

Danny looked around, bewildered as his ghost sense started coming through thick and visible, a cold racking up his spine as he breathed it out, not daring to move. He was the logical target and the rest of the class was to the doors and pouring out of the room. The floor shook beneath his feet and Danny found Sam's eyes again, no words said as the tile between them broke in an eruption upward, a grayish ghost forming from the crack and cackling at him hungrily.

He had only a second to realize that he was the only one left on this side of the classroom before the room began to shred itself to pieces around him. He was screaming Sam's name when he fell, and only stopped when he was buried by half a classroom.

Trigonometry Classroom, 12:48pm, Valerie Gray

Something was horribly wrong, and Valerie knew it. She didn't need any of her special equipment present to know that it was ghost related. She lived in Amity Park for heaven's sake; anything strange (and she did mean anything) was a ghost's fault, right up to the fact that she still hadn't captured Danny Phantom and taken her revenge on him for ruining her life three years ago. Never mind that three years ago the girl she had been wouldn't have been in her shoes now: ready to graduate in the top fifty of her class, honed to physical perfection, and already accepted into three of the best Parapsychology programs in the country.

But if Mr. Johnson wanted to delude himself into thinking that the room hadn't shook like crazy ten minutes ago, he was the only one who could. Especially since they'd heard the screams, too. But no one was allowed out of the classroom, he was insistent on teaching them cosines and Valerie was ready to chew her textbook in half with the desperate need to get out and help!

Another minute passed and the room began shaking again, this time the screams from somewhere above them, and the board at the front of the room shook itself off the wall as a horrible crash was heard. The screaming upstairs stopped and Valerie took the moment to grab her bag and prepare to flee the room. A familiar laugh cut through the room a moment later, and the graphing calculators on every desk lifted into the air before splitting into dozens of pieces and swirling about the entire class.

She didn't dare move for a moment as she realized that Technus had obligingly brought himself to the classroom, and her eyes narrowed. It was a decision, one that she had to make now. Valerie weighed her options, the most obvious being to stop having a secret identity and share with the entire class that she was the Red Huntress. An unfortunate side effect of doing the right thing, but as Technus floated through the front of the classroom she gritted her teeth and prepared to make the change.

"Not so fast, little girl," he cackled, and she took a startled step bad as he darted for her, hauling her into the air so that her weight dangled from one arm.

She could still change, she still had to, but before she could even begin the sequence to cover her body in her technosuit Valerie was thrown into a wall. Her head hit sharply and she lay there for a moment, dazed, Technus' voice only vague and nasally as she didn't move.

"We can do this two way, human," he explained, his superior tone grating on her nerves even with her body uncooperative with her orders. "The easy, which means you walk yourselves into the center of the school with the rest of the sheep."

She tried to pull herself to her feet, only making her knees as she tried to roll her eyes. Always the same old Technus, spouting his plans out and giving her the chance to stop him in his tracks before he did any actual (more) damage. Wouldn't have him any other way.

"Or the hard way."

She screamed, the sensation wracking itself up her arm and pouring pain over her before Valerie even realized that the ghost had grabbed her hand and wrenched her index finger back to lay flat along her hand.

"These," there was another snap and she lost her knees, collapsing against the ghost so that she was only supported by his icy grip on her wrist, "are your choices you little meatsacks." Another snap and Valerie retched with the pain. "The hard way," oh god it hurt when he snapped her pinky to the side, "will be your fingers you disgusting humans."

When he wrenched her hand around, Valerie knew that for everyone else, it would only be the easy way.

Second Floor Hall, 12:50pm, Sam Manson

She hadn't cried in a long time, not since Danny had almost died the summer before sophomore year, but Sam couldn't seem to stop crying now. the ghost that had done it was long gone, nothing else but sending Danny to his death, buried under what had to be tons of concrete and brick and all sorts of strange school things and dead frog bits and scalpels and oh—

He was gone.

She felt so stupid. He'd asked her for help at lunch and Sam had so readily agreed with him that it was a bunch of mischievous ghosts looking to test Danny Phantom. And she'd been wrong, she'd helped them kill him.

One of her classmates brushed against her and Sam stumbled to the side, finally sinking to her knees and pressing her face against them, the denim of her jeans soaking through quickly as she wished for her best friend back. It was disloyal to Tucker, but nothing would be the same without Danny, without Phantom, and Sam felt like a piece of her had died inside, breaking away and just gone in a flash of dust and him screaming her name.

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her look up, tear-streaked face miserable, pitiful as she found Tucker huddled near her. "Sam, we have to get Danny. The ghosts are taking over the school."

He was covered in tiny cuts, his beret missing and one lens of his glasses cracked. She saw glass littering his hair, and a line of shards standing up out of the bottom of his right forearm, like they were imbedded in the bone along the length of it. His brow was creased and worried, and Sam found a moment's pity for her other best friend, who had searched her out, knowing that where she was Danny would be close. Well, she thought cynically, he wasn't wrong.

She was right here; Danny was one story below her, broken and dead.

She shook her head, fresh tears burning their way down her cheeks. "Ghosts have taken over the school, Tuck." Her eyes strayed to the gaping expanse where the biology classroom had been not five minutes before. "He's gone. Oh Tuck, he's gone. He was in there when it happened."

Tucker glanced to his left and his dark skin went ashen as he realized what Sam was saying. "No," he breathed, but she could see that he already knew, it was just a desperate wish that she was wrong crossing his lips.

His good arm went around her and Sam leaned into it, ignoring the other students, the noise now pouring in from everywhere in Casper High, the shimmering blue shield between them and the rest of the world. It didn't matter, none of it mattered without Danny there. he was the only one who could save them, and without Danny Phantom, there would be no savior. Not even the Fenton's were as good at what Danny did, and they'd been hunting ghosts for years before Danny got his powers. Such a unique situation to force such expertise into his hands.

Sam shuddered out a sob as the familiar metal face of Skulker suddenly loomed clear in front of them. He reached out and batted two students between him and her and Tucker away, and Sam skittered back in fear, knowing that the metal against flesh had held the sound of breaking bones. Tucker threw himself between her and Skulker, and she shrieked when the metallic ghost didn't even pause as he stole up both her and her friend.

"Let me go!" she cried, twisting around. "You already killed him, let me go!" Tears were falling freely and the bastard only laughed at her.

"Spoils of war," he decreed, and turned to the cowering students. "All of you, down with the rest. Now."

Front Hall, 12:53pm, June Ishiyama

It was a completely breakdown of discipline, but Ishiyama couldn't think of a way to stop it. In less than fifteen minutes she'd watched her school go from structured, safe and organized, to a hell of blood and broken children. For all that many of them were on the cusp of adulthood, not a single one of them was more than a child now in her eyes. It gnawed at her like the fear she was trying to hide. She was the principal, she was in charge, and she couldn't keep her students safe.

Every single precaution they'd taken, all of the money poured into anti-ghost defenses, people more reputable than the Fenton's, people who should have been reliable. Ishiyama shook her head as she moved quietly through a pair of students from the gathering at the edges of the front hall to the unconscious form of Valerie Gray.

She should have trusted the two ghost hunters. They'd offered to arm the school for free, but after everything she'd seen about them she'd been too afraid of potential lawsuits against the district to accept. And now their son was dead, and a third of the student body was injured. Most not as bad as the unconscious woman-child at her feet. Ishiyama knelt and glanced over the semi-splint someone had wrapped around the palm of her hand and down her wrist.

It was a mess, what the ghost had done, and it would take hours of delicate surgery and months of physical therapy if Valerie was to regain the use of her hand.

It sickened Ishiyama, the nausea in her gut only building as she searched through more of her students. There were broken bones everywhere, blood from cuts of all shapes and sizes. But no more as severe as the maiming Valerie had suffered. At the moment Ishiyama was inclined to thank god, but she wasn't sure he would hear her, and she wasn't sure if she should.

They were just children.

The barrier that had been erected around the school gleamed from all sides, barely filtering the dreary sunlight. No one was coming in, and no one was going out. she hadn't even seen any of the ghosts attempt to breach it, though the woman knew that didn't mean they couldn't. at worst a piece merely needed to be dropped to allow the ghosts access back and forth. Her thoughts ceased as Ishiyama turned to see a shadow fall across the students gathered in Casper High's courtyard.

"Give us Phantom and you all shall live," came the decree. It was no ghost that Ishiyama recognized, but she admitted readily to herself that she hardly knew the ghosts that frequented the city. She tried to avoid them.

She was too far away to stop it, and one of the students screamed as the ghost sent a ball of icy cold ectoplasm at him when he tried to tell the creature that they didn't know where Phantom was.

But the cry was taken up by the dozens of ghosts surrounding them, the call, the bloodthirsty demand for Danny Phantom in exchange for a lifetime of slavery instead of a painful death. No choice at all, she knew, and wished not for the first time that she had retired like she'd been offered. But no, one last year as principal of Amity Park's only high school, one last chance to preside over the students, to the graduating class of the first students to survive Casper High with the advent of ghosts and Danny Phantom.

There were screams, but there was no stopping them. The ghosts were far too excited at the fear and pain filling the air, thick enough that even the human Ishiyama could taste it on the back of her tongue. She wanted to scream at them to stop, but was too afraid to do it, fear that they'd kill the children outright strong as she quivered where she stood.

Give us Danny Phantom. Give us Phantom. GIVE US THE PHANTOM!

There was no way to do it, and she would have if she'd had the ghost boy in her grasp. Handed him over to stop them from hurting the students, the children.

And then it was done, the ghosts cowering up into the air as the silver visage of one of the few ghosts Ishiyama knew floating proudly above the crowd. He had two students dangling in his grasp, and she recognized them easily. Tucker Foley, streaked in blood and defiant, and Sam Manson, face streaked with tears and looking lost. After a moment Ishiyama remembered that the Fenton boy had been their friend.

Then the ghost spoke: "Phantom is dead. It's our time now."

Courtyard, 12:55pm, Danny Phantom

"Son of a bitch," Danny groaned as he shifted another piece of concrete from atop him. He'd have been dead if it hadn't been for those damned stools and a single cabinet. But he wasn't, and he was conscious again.

It was time to get a little payback and deal with the ghost who'd done this.

He was shaken, bruised and bloodied, but whole. Even if he had been afraid for his first few moments of consciousness that his arm had been broken, and then his back. Thank god he'd realized that he could feel everything, and the pain he'd expected was simply not there. safe and sound he was, and he really needed to find Sam and Tucker and make sure they were okay before he dealt with the ghost.

As he climbed to the top of the rubble Danny's eyes went wide as he surveyed the destruction round him. Half of the science wing was collapsed, and the front of the main hall was missing. He could see Lancer's desk and office, empty and looking like no one had died there. smoke rose from behind the main body of the school, and when he glanced behind him he saw a blue ghost shield glinting against the sky.

"Vlad," he growled, as he saw the small metal box that lay along its base.

If Vlad was involved, then he needed to tread carefully. Taking the shield down would tell the old man that he was on to him, so Danny left it and half slid, half stumbled down to the first floor hallway. He listed to the silence before realizing that towards the main entrance there was the dull smell of fear and the sound of crying, random screams, and voices he recognized begging for someone to stop, anything, just please don't hurt them.

Stealth aside Danny took to his heels, racing for the light filled hall, only stumbling to a halt when he turned the corner to see the entire student body cowering inside the courtyard. And Skulker, a name that he suddenly spat inside his head, presiding over it all, ghosts ringing him from above. His heart clenched as he saw Sam and Tucker on the ground beneath him, Tucker obviously hurt and bleeding, and Sam safe looking until she looked up at the metallic ghost and Danny could see the blood that streaked her forehead, the way her arm didn't move from where she cradled it to her chest.

He watched for a moment before deciding it wasn't broken, just dislocated, and that barring the way he was decorated with questionable jewelry made of glass, Tucker was better off than many of the other students. But the looks on their face were halfway to broken, and Sam had been crying. Her red rimmed eyes gave it away, and there was nothing that would stop Danny now.

The ghosts were gloating as he took another step forward, still shadowed by the wall, listening as they mocked the students. Some were pleading with the ghosts to let them go, to not hurt them, more were pleading for Danny Phantom to miraculously appear and save them. And Skulker in the middle of all of it, mocking them and telling them that the Phantom died a coward, screaming and trying to fight his fate.

Danny's blood boiled.

"Your precious Phantom can't save you now, you foolish humans," Skulker boomed.

And Danny only smirked as he strode from the shadows, passing Lancer and Ishiyama where they guarded Valerie's still form, Dash huddled with the rest of the football team, a blotchy Paulina hiding behind her groupies. And to where everyone could see him, Sam and Tucker and ghosts especially.

"I wouldn't say that, Skulker," Danny smirked, the picture of confidence as his fists clenched at his sides and Sam and Tucker both cried out his name. "I can save them; it's what I do."

His eyes came alive with a fierce glee and the world flashed blue-white.

fini

A big thanks to all of my readers, and lo! I am the first to finish the 100 Drabble Challenge!