Disclaimer: Danny Phantom, and its characters and/or ideas are the creation of Butch Hartman. The show does not belong to me nor will it ever.

A/N: I have no excuse, that is all.

11

"You cannot be serious, Tucker," Sam muttered irritably, shooting the said male a deadpanned expression after he had revealed who he thought could help them with saving Danny.

"We don't have any other choice," the bespectacled teen returned, fidgeting on the bench. "It's either she helps us or Danny will be lost to us again. This is our last chance."

"Tucker, you must have lost your mind. Have you forgotten what she is capable of? She's just as bad, if not worse, than the GIW."

Edward stared back and forth between the two friends as though he were watching an intense tennis match. He wasn't sure how this mentioned girl could be of help to them, but if Sam was threatened by her, he figured she wasn't good news. It's hopeless, the inner voice in Lancer's head whispered to him as his countenance took on a more forlorn look.

"Think about it, Sam. She probably knows more about Vlad than any of us and I bet she could tell us about all of his locations too."

Sam scoffed in disbelief. "I think you're letting your little crush on her get to your head. How do we know she won't try to harm Danny once she finds out what he is?"

Tucker's nose wrinkled at the word 'crush'. "So then we won't tell her about Danny. All we have to do is mention Vlad's name, and she'd be willing to help us. You know she's not involved with him now after what happened with her father."

Edward and Tucker could tell that the black haired girl was finally relenting with the way her tense shoulders were lessening to a degree. Still, Manson had to know: "What if she can't help us, Tuck? What'll we do then?"

"I don't know," Tuck admitted thoughtfully. "But we have to try. We can't let him down again."

Releasing a sigh while trying to keep her tears at bay, Sam nodded her head curtly. "Okay." You better be worth all this, Valerie Gray, Sam mused with an inward scowl.

The two teens and Lancer began their trek across the mall's parking lot, their surroundings seemingly as deserted as the inside of the Amity Park Mall. The afternoon sun had risen higher in the sky and with the sudden chill in the air, the three unconsciously huddled closer together.

Each of their eyes were vigilant for any sign of ghosts, their orbs looking in all directions. Lancer had had a small hope that Montez's car would still be available, but with the car now being out of sight, the heavyset educator was even more anxious. He knew it would be safer for the three of them if they found a vehicle.

"How far does this girl Valerie live?" questioned Lancer as he fell in step with Tucker and Sam.

"She lives on Elm Street," Tucker answered hurriedly. "It's a couple of miles from here."

Reaching the end of the parking lot's asphalt, Sam abruptly stopped in her tracks, her head snapping over her left shoulder. "Did you guys hear that?" she asked in a whisper.

Halting their walking as well, Lancer and Tucker glanced back at the only girl in their group. "We're being followed." The techno geek said in a hush, his words more of a statement than a question. Mr. Lancer gulped as his body shivered in renewed fear.

"We need to move faster," the Mason teen observed. "We're too vulnerable out here in the open."

xxx

Lancer, Tucker, and Sam sprinted through the city, the oldest of the trio falling a few feet behind as he panted in his exertion. They had been on foot for a mere five minutes and although they had viewed a number of people wandering about, the area around them was practically nonexistent. There hadn't been any vehicles, as far as Edward could see so far, and all that running was beginning to make him nauseous.

Coming across several business buildings, the three were then intercepted as a lone figure suddenly materialized a couple of feet in front of them. The unknown form, more than likely a specter, hid its face rather carefully, a purple hood obscuring most of its countenance. The two teens and the one adult tried to turn back in the opposite direction, but to their horror the same looking figure was blocking that path as well.

"What do we do now?" Edward inquired nervously, gasping as two more figures appeared on all sides.

Thinking quickly, Sam reached behind Tucker to unzip the backpack the boy was still carrying. She handed both Tuck and Lancer a pair of green colored ear plug-like miniature phones. "We'll distract the ghosts by splitting up," she decided.

"You think that's a good idea?" Tucker and Edward asked in unison before looking at one another in surprise.

Sam rolled her eyes at them before putting on her own set of phones. "I don't see any other options at the moment. The other gadgets Tuck has in his backpack will not be of any use to us."

Tucker had the audacity to look sheepish. "I was kinda in a hurry when Danny contacted us."

Sam choose to ignore that tidbit of information and continued with, "On my mark, Tucker and I will run on opposite sides. Mr. Lancer," she addressed, staring straight at the balding man, "You stay with Tucker and try to keep up with him. We'll be in touch with these Fenton Phones." Lancer nodded, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. "Alright, ready?" The two males nodded, albeit reluctantly. "GO!"

Lancer and Tucker didn't have a chance to say anything else as they witnessed Sam race the other way. As though the dark headed female's running was their cue, the pair of males stalked in their own direction, sidestepping the unidentified ghoul as it ostensibly watched them take off.

Running between two buildings, Lancer and his teenage companion were startled as Sam's voice reached them through the static of the phones. "Are you guys good so far?"

"Yeah," Tucker puffed out a breath as his sprinting slowed. "I don't know what the ghosts' intentions are, though. It doesn't look like they're following us."

"I know what you mean," Sam's voice consented. "It's as if they're—" She cut herself off as she released an alarmed shout, the phone call on the other end shutting off.

"Sam?" Tucker called, holding tightly to the two headphones. "Sam!" When he didn't receive a response, he and Lancer peered at each other in terror before running back the way they had come.

xxx

Samantha panted in harsh breaths as she hid behind a large trash bin on the other side of a chrome building. The girl had just spotted an ice cream truck concealed around the corner and was about to head for it when the same seeming specter appeared in front of her, causing her to fall on the hardened ground and scrape her knees.

Elevating her legs in order to ease the throbbing, Sam then bravely peeked out from her hiding place. She blinked in confusion once she saw that the ghost had disappeared. Counting to ten in her head and gathering all her courage, Sam then lifted herself from the dirt filled ground and limped toward the truck, screaming in the chaos as a ghostly blast whizzed passed her.

xxx

Tucker and Lancer hastened their running after hearing Sam's scream, with Lancer wheezing as his big stomach rolled up in down. They stopped right in the middle of an opening, a series of tall structures surrounding them.

"Sam!" called out Tuck a third time, bending down to catch his breath. "Sam! Where are you?!"

Waiting several seconds to see if Sam would answer him, the male teen was unprepared as the hood wearing ghost popped in existence in the back of them, prompting Lancer to let out a frightened squeak as they both spun around to face the ghoul. The specter raised its arm up, as though it were preparing to shoot.

A childish, pitchy tune in the background ceased its movements, the ghost's head twirling to the side. A white ice cream truck strolled down the road, halting beside the hovering figure and the two shocked males. A disheveled Sam poked her head out of the driver's window and yelled, "Get in, quick!"

Neither Tucker nor Lancer needed telling twice, they swiftly climbed into the interior of the truck. Edward releasing a pained whimper as the ghoul's unsuspecting blast struck him on his upper arm. Tucker shut the sliding door closed before any more blasts could strike them once more.

Edward hissed at the ache as Tucker lifted the man's meaty arm to take a better look at the injury. The wound appeared swollen and burned, and Foley knew it would get infected if it wasn't at least cleaned.

"Let me clean your wound," Tuck said, as he rummaged in his backpack for medical supplies. "Can't this truck go any faster?" He whined minutes later after he had wiped and then bandaged Lancer's arm.

"It only goes to forty," Sam grumbled as she glanced at the speedometer.

"You couldn't have picked a faster truck?" asked Tucker.

"Sorry, I guess a more experienced person could have chosen a better truck since there were no other cars in the area," Sam countered sarcastically.

"You don't have to be so—" Tucker's supposed complaint was interrupted as the same figure popped up in their line of sight. Sam pressed on the brake and turned the steering wheel to the right; the truck skidding over a bump on the highway, and the three occupants screaming as Sam tried to gain back control.

The truck spun around and sped down a grassy hill, a couple of people having to jump out of the truck's way. As soon as the truck's wheels landed on another road's surface, Sam was then able to stop, the vehicle appearing in a less favorable neighborhood.

Taking a minute to catch their breaths and relax their muscles, Tucker afterwards exclaimed: "Hey, at least we made it to Elm Street!" He pointed right at the street sign that was conveniently above their heads.

Valerie Gray's house was in the middle of a multitude of seven different houses, all of them in good need of repairs. The exterior of the home was painted a darker tan, with the chimney colored the typical red and the landscaping between a forest green and a saffron yellow.

Sam, Tucker, and Edward sluggishly walked on the pathway to the front of the house, the three being mentally and physically drained from the last hour's events.

The three looked at each other prior to Tucker saying to Sam, "So...should I ring the doorbell or should you?" He chuckled uncomfortably as the girl shook her head in exasperation. "I hope she's home," the red beret wearing teen muttered in afterthought as Sam took it upon herself to ring the bell.

There was a crash and a yell on the other side of the house before an African American girl with green eyes opened the door. The said female's eyes widened stunned as she stared at her familiar classmates and an unfamiliar middle aged man.

"Hello," Sam's eyes narrowed. "...Valerie."

Another reminder that this is an alternative timeline.