Short Summary: Mr. Lancer decides that Danny has been acting way too weird, and has gotten way too many detentions since that week he had that accident. But how can he find out more?
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, or a lawyer for that matter. Butch Hartman does. All I own is Burney… And a room, and clothes, and… oh, you get the point.
Rated: PG for almost cursing, and brief violence.
Solid POV Mr. Lancer
Chapter 1- Encounter
"So, even though many of us take for granted that the equation EMC², It was a huge breakthrough for the wor… Hello Danny." I said as Danny walked into class 10 minutes late. "Your late. That's another detention."
"Hello, and mm-hmm." He said in an exhale. He looked out of breath and really tired. I was used to giving detentions to him, and apparently he was used to getting them, but only one of us knew why. Just like only one of us knew why he was in such bad condition.
"You look pretty beat up. Would you like to go to the nurse?" I asked.
"No, I'm fine."
"Well then, would you like to explain why you are so late?" I said routinely.
"No, Thank you." He said, getting out his books.
"You know, Danny, this is the thirty-second time you've been late, not counting the twenty times you've completely skipped my class, and the twenty-one times you've gone to the bathroom or the nurse, and never came back." I recited from memory.
"You've been counting?" He said with surprise.
"No I guessed." I said flatly, trying to pull off sarcasm.
"Oh. Okay," He replied, and started copying notes. I turned around, and started class frustrated with working with someone who obviously needs a digital watch.
"Energy equals mass times…" I restarted my class. A pot of hot coffee, an alarm clock set to 4:00 in the morning, and this is what I get! There's something he's hiding. I wish I could just figure out what he's thinking. I sighed in the middle of the subconscious sentence I was teaching. I realized that I had stopped talking in the process of my thoughts. I took the time to look around the classroom, taking the chance to see how many people were actually paying attention. Most were daydreaming, one was sleeping, two were passing notes, the kid in the front was looking at me, confused at why I had stopped talking, some were looking around like deer sensing danger, knowing something was missing, but not quite figuring out what it was, and three students in the back had a chat group going. Guess who. I opened my mouth to address Mr. Fenton, when I heard a fart sound. Everyone in the class giggled. I change what I should say mid- inhale
"Amazing how when I stop talking, only one person knows, but when someone expels gas, you can barely hold back your laughter." I said flatly. They giggled again and I heard someone whisper: "Who says 'expels gas'" I lowered my eyebrows. I could've been a doctor. I thought. I started class up once again.
After school, I decided to get a load off and visit Lancer's coffee shop. (a/n -Which is a real place that the cast and crew of Danny Phantom used to go, which was the reason Mr. Lancer is named Mr. Lancer. if you don't know already.) This is right next to the place where I won Doomed six times; one of my not so serious hobbies. I sat back at my usual table and undid my tie a bit. I looked out the window to the front of the coffee shop to 'people watch' a bit, when I saw Danny and his friends walk by. Of course .I thought to myself, eighty something detentions, and I still can't get through to that kid. I wonder why he's so secretive all the time. Most kids with so many detentions talk back impolitely every once and a while, but he just sits and copies down his notes and whispers to his friends. And when he comes in late, he always looks exhausted, bruised sometimes even limping. I shrugged it off. I guess there are some things about kids we adults just aren't meant to understand. That's what I always said to myself when I thought too hard about these things. I dreaded the day when it would stop working. That day was coming sooner than I expected. I sat back in my chair again and picked up the paper. Not to my surprise, this crazy city decided to put ghost news on the first page to scare away all our tourists. If 'Ghosts Haunting The Town' didn't scare them away, it would be their thoughts that everyone in Amity Park belonged in the loony bin. I sighed again, and sipped on my coffee for a bit, still Reading the paper.Danny Phantom saves Goth girl from Raging Techno Fiend!
Danny Phantom, debated by many as good or evil, was seen rescuing a gothic girl from a techno monster. These are our witness's words: "Well, I saw this guy with a mullet wizzin' all this technological know-how at a girl with short black hair, black clothing, and purple stockings. The Ghost boy yells 'Pam!' or some'n and ran in front of her making this sorta shield thing. After that he blast him with some kind a blast out his hand, and sucked the thing into some sorta thermos. What was weird is the girl seemed fine. He was actually talking to her, and she was smilin' and talkin' back. Then they went into a forest, and I saw a big light. I don't know what happened next, though, my dog got scared and pulled me away."
Of course, that Phantom kid. How did I know? Sometimes I wish I had taken that job in Chicago. Truly, inside, I thought this kid was good, but I wasn't about to let it slip out that a mature adult, like myself, actually cared about small unimportant issues such as this. This is when Burney, someone I had met the first time I came here, (which was quite a while ago,) walked into the shop and ordered his usual mocha. He was a slender fellow. An accountant. But he wasn't a stereotype accountant. He had a great a good sense of humor and a cheerful manner that always cheered me up. He was carrying a briefcase, his usual big, round glasses in place. He picked up a paper and sat down at my table.
"Hey, how ya doing" He said smiling and patting me on the back. I smiled a bit, still engrossed in reading the weather reports.
"Fine, how's the wife?" I replied.
"Great, great. We're doing fine." He nodded. I nodded, still looking at the paper, secretly wishing I had a wife.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, looking at the picture of the ghost boy on the front page of the paper. "Danny Phantom hits the front page again, huh." He said. I blinked. Surprised that a 'mature adult' would actually let it show that he was interested in this ghost boy.
"What's your opinion? Good, or evil?" He asked me.
"Umm." Should I tell the truth? I thought. "I think he's alright." I said. I tried to sound uninterested. There were people around. He raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, come on. I've known you too long. I can read you like and open book, and you're interested." He slapped me on the back again. I couldn't help to smile a bit. Good ol' Burney always knew how to make me smile.
Then, I suddenly heard a huge crash.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone!" I yelled. I've got to stop doing that. I looked out the front window and heard a
"Stand still you whelp!" from an electronic man with laser guns coming out from everywhere and a green mane of fire. He was knocked back by a green blast. There he was. The famed Danny Phantom. I saw a white flash beside me. I turned my head to see Burney taking picture after picture of the ghost boy. I rolled my eyes, and turned my attention back to the fight. The Ghost boy shot another blast from his hand, at the mechanical guy.
"I-will-not-be-a-wall-hang-ing." Phantom yelled with enormous energy, shooting a blast from his hand for every syllable. He was blasted back by his enemy, and he landed at the feet of two teens. I looked up at their faces. It was Ms. Manson and Mr. Foley. But they weren't running away. Samantha was talking to him, and Tucker was helping him up. The ghost boy was talking back. When I saw another blast come toward them, a:
"Watch Out!" escaped my lips. But there it was. The shield I read about in the newspaper. That's when I noticed something. Where was Mr. Fenton? Those three were like a packaged deal. I thought. The only time they split up during school hours was when Danny came in late, he went to the bathroom, skipped class, or one of them was sick. And Danny wasn't sick. He was just walking in the street with them. I set my mind on the fight again, to see Phantom still making a dome shield over the three of them, Samantha, and Mr. Foley, still acting extremely calm about it, and still no Danny. Well, Besides Danny Phantom. I saw the Ghost Boy's lips moving. Then Tucker pulled out one of his techno things. I think it was a PDA. Suddenly, the ghost enemy stopped in his tracks and looked at his wrist. And started dancing Hip Hop, as speakers on his back started playing music. I heard Burney laugh, still taking pictures. I saw Tucker take out a soup thermos and give it to the ghost boy. Phantom opened it up and some sort of beam came out of it and sucked up the Hip- Hop ghost. The ghost boy looked around, then, with Ms. Manson, and Mr. Foley followed him. There was a bright flash. And silence. I blinked, as Burney took one last picture. I decided to go outside, maybe catch a word with one of them, but when I got to the alley, I turned the corner to see nothing but a dumpster and some broken windows. That's when I heard something. I walked into the alley a little deeper. I swore I saw a can in front of me move. And I thought I heard breathing. I stuck out my hand. Nothing. I turned around to walk away when I was caught off guard by a blinding flash. I heard a:
"What the freak!" from behind me. As I got over the little dots in my eyes, I saw Burney; with his camera in his hands. But he was just standing there, looking at something behind me. I turned around.
"Holy Mother of Hamlet!" I yelled as I saw, standing right behind me, The ghost boy; right next to Samantha and Tucker. I blinked, he blinked, I blinked. We exchanged blank faces, all four of us. But before I could share one last blank look, he took their hands and flew off; at a speed of about 90 mph, by estimate. I turned to Burney, who was still staring into where Danny Phantom had just been standing. I looked into the sky, but saw nothing, just blue, and the occasional white fluff, which strangely seemed to be in the shapes of footballs.