Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom


"Damn it, move!" Sam Manson pushed past the throng of people bustling on the streets of Amity Park. It was a late October morning and apparently, all the people in Amity decided it was the best time to go out and do their insignificant businesses, right exactly when she needed the area to be clear and undisturbed.

Who the hell invented Halloween anyway? Was the inventor nuts enough to put a celebration on the day where she desperately needed to catch a very dangerous person?

Sam carefully dodged a coming six-foot man in corporate attire, talking with someone on his phone and leaped to the side as another guy trampled the sidewalk holding out at least five leashes with five equally big dogs on its ends. She let out a small sigh of relief and caught a sight of the broad-shouldered, black-haired man turning right to the nearest alley. The object of her pursuit was dressed to impress, Sam noted, sporting a navy blue hoodie, black jeans and red running shoes, the man gave her a quick once-over before he slid himself to the dark alley and disappeared.

Sam cursed, curled one of her fists in her jacket's pocket, grasping the metal end of her weapon which was tucked safely inside and broke into a full fledge run after her target.

"Dude, you look like hell." Noted an all-too familiar male voice in utter disbelief.

Danny Fenton wiped a bead of sweat cascading down his forehead, took a quick, sharp breath and glared at his colleague and best friend, Tucker Foley.

"My life is hell."He grumbled and took his seat, grabbing a towel from his bag pack and rushing to mop up his oily, sweat-showered face. He threw the towel back to his bag and switched on his computer.

Tucker ducked to the nearest seat across his small table and leaned in, "I swear, man, if you're really living up to your self-proclaimed purpose of saving the world, you should start by kicking Dash's ass out of this place and actually start saving the world."

Danny gave a shrug and ruffled his hair with his hand, "There's nothing wrong with Dash, Tuck."

"Yeah, rig-"

"Except for that lump in his head he calls brain and his freaking swagger."

Tucker's lips curved up in a smile. "Now, that's what I call an agent's intelligent character assessment."

"You don't really need to be an agent to conclude Dash's personality." Danny began typing a series of passwords as his computer whirred to life.

"Well, technically, yeah. But you get the point." Tucker then slid a blue folder across Danny's desk.

The other agent cocked an eyebrow .Tucker just shrugged his shoulders in return.

"Lancer says, 'give this to Fenton'. So I got up, went to your desk and was not surprised to not see you until after a good ten minutes or so. I waited and you arrived, all panting and sweaty. Late as usual, I give you a quick head-to-toe observation and I tell you exactly what I see. Then you come back with a grunt, sometimes a sentence and-"

"O-kay. I get it, Tuck."Danny held up an arm in an attempt to stop Tucker's babble, to which he thankfully did. "What I'm asking is, what does Lancer want me to do with that?" He looked pointedly at the blue folder.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe he wants you to open it and read it."

Danny looked like he was going to punch Tucker. He clearly was not having a good day and Tucker's wise ass comments were definitely pushing the limits.

"I don't need to touch that folder to know what's inside it. That's the blue one, code blue stands for illness research. I've gone over those researches more than a hundred times already."

"Unfortunately, like you, my best friend, I, too doesn't have a clue what's going on. You know Lancer, if it's lethal, he zips his mouth shut."

"FENTON! FOLEY!" A booming voice shattered the agents' casual talk, whipping their heads to the doorway; they were met by steely eyes. Both Danny and Tucker paled visibly at the sight of their mentor glaring at them, evidently overhearing some, if not the whole conversation. "My office. NOW." He turned and left.

"Why do I feel like we're going to get a really nasty detention?" Tucker muttered to Danny. Upon recovering from their mouth-gaping humiliation, they trudged their way to Lancer's office and were now seated on his long table with none other than Dash Baxter and Sidney Pointdexter. The so-called best field agent and techno whiz of Anti-Terrorist Unit, Amity Park Division.

The lights were suddenly shut off and a projected screen illuminated the room showing the anatomy of a human body, then the scene morphed into a microscopic view of the bloodstreams, cells and organs. A more detailed view was presented and white circular clumps were shown shrinking and diminishing, invaded and beaten by tiny, purplish cells. It was a tiny, creepy war. A losing battle between a human's antibodies and a foreign, powerful substance.

Danny's brow knitted together. The scene unfolding before him was vaguely familiar. He definitely saw that before, he could not just place it. He began to rack his memories as to where and when did he encounter that, but he always came up with a dream-like feeling, not entirely sure whether he'd actually seen it or his mind just mistakenly wrapped itself into seeing something out of a sci-fi movie.

Beams of light exploded in Danny's vision and he was momentarily confused. The little horrifying movie was over and Lancer hit the switch for the overhead fluorescent lights. He stood in front of the room, near the edge of the long table. An out-of-shape, balding man in his late forties, wearing a blue green polo with rolled-up sleeves and black slacks. He looked each of them in the eye with an air of superiority and began his briefing.

"What you just saw is the virtual process of how the new-released virus attacks the human body." He waited for their reactions, noting the way they all went stiff, alarmed. He let the anticipation build and continued, "We are monitoring few of the world's most wanted terrorists these past months due to an intel that they teamed up to take over the world," he sighed, "Again." He continued, "Through the help of bioengineering technology."

"Nano-chip mind control." Tucker supplied and a grunt from Pointdexter was heard. Tucker glanced to him and flashed a toothy smile, Pointdexter scowled. HA! In your face! Tucker had the sudden urge to stick out his tongue or held up a finger to his face when he felt Danny's elbow hit his side. He turned to his friend and glared at him. Danny shot him a warning look in return.

"Yes, Mr. Foley." Lancer agreed, moving their attention back to the matter at hand. "Mind control could have been better. It could've been considered better in a psycho, twisted way. However, the information turned out to be a hoax."

It was Pointdexter's turn to shoot Tucker a sly grin. Dash Baxter also joined in giving him the 'you sayin'something?' look. He ignored them both.

"Another intel came up, just last night. According to an undercover agent, the scientists were not working on mind control nor nano technology. They were paid to create a parasite, a killer. A virus which invades the human body. It eats the healthy cells and multiplies itself rapidly, therefore decaying the cells, destroying the organs while the host is still alive and practically killing them from the inside."

It all sounded straight from an action-packed, science thriller to Danny. But he knew better than to take things lightly when it comes to terrorists. It was always either kill or torture with them. "How long does it take?" he asked surprised by the underlying cockiness in his tone.

"I'm afraid that it's not yet specified. It could be only a couple of hours or a day, depending on the individual's immune system."

"A couple of hours?!" Danny burst. Cockiness was replaced with anger. "Tens or thousands of people could be infected right this moment, worse some could even be dying right now!"

"Yes, Mr. Fenton. We are terribly aware of that." Lancer answered coldly.

Danny fired another question, oblivious to his mentor's condescending glare. "What about the intel, what else does he or she know?"

Mr. Lancer gave Danny a pointed look. "Mr. Fenton, I would appreciate it if you would calm down and let me tell you the rest of it."

"Sir, people are dying. We should be sending out medical teams, warning them, securing them. We should be doing something."

"I know my job, Fenton. You don't tell me what to do."

Danny attempted to bottle his anger, and lowered his head, "Sorry, sir."

Mr. Lancer merely nodded. "The intel couldn't tell us more." He was met by four pairs of eyes, each gripped with silent panic. "She's dead." He answered their silent inquiry and felt the tension rose. "She was found dead in a secluded alleyway this morning. She was to report back personally but apparently did not make it. The body was brought to the lab for thorough autopsy and the results proved what she had said. All agents who were involved with the deceased agent for the last 72 hours are now under quarantine. The virus can be transmitted through air."

The tension now surrounding them was almost tangible, skyrocketing.

"There is an international artist convention being held at Amity Park hotel, another intel reported that it is the target of the terrorists. With the number of famous artists joining the said convention and political figures attending the event, no doubt this is where they'll make their first official public stunt."

"The convention is scheduled to a large, late lunch in the fifth floor. Security is on high alert but it's not enough. Tac teams were deployed this early morning and are now covering the perimeters of the area. I'm assigning Agent Baxter to—"

"Sir, you've got agent Mike on the line." A female voice from the intercom interrupted. Lancer pressed a button on his handy remote and a window opened on the screen behind him. A sweating Caucasian man appeared, out of breath and rushing his words.

"Sir, code red. The area is contaminated. The virus has been released. Several people were rushed to the hotel's infirmary. I repeat the virus has been released. Sir?"

Lancer cursed. A slap on the table reverberated. "Secure the area. No one gets in or out. Agents, who are inside, do NOT allow anyone to leave the hotel premises. Agents who enter the hotel are not allowed to go out, unless they are medically cleared. I'll send the medical teams right away."

Lancer was about to end the call when he noticed something on his agents face, "What in the… Wuthering Heights! Agent Mike, you're infected! Where the hell are you?" There was a smear of blood trickling from the agent's nose, his eyes were unfocused.

The agent on the screen took a deep breath, the screen rattled. His hands were probably shaking. "I'm in the vent, sir. I was supposed to shut it down but I was too late. They've already released it." He sniffed. "Used the vent."

"Shit!" Danny muttered curling his fists. People are infected, soon they'd be dying and he's stuck in an office, healthy as superman without doing anything actually helpful.

Lancer gave his final orders to the agent on the other line and dismissed the call. "Baxter, Fenton I'm sending you to the hotel."

"Sir, I can handle the mission. Alone" Dash interjected with a dignified puff of his chest.

"I'm fully aware of your expertise in field missions, Baxter. However, you'll be needing Fenton's knowledge when it comes to situations like these."

"Why not just let him work in the lab and formulate an antidote?" Baxter was obviously not making any effort to hide his hate and was once again letting his mouth work instead of his brain, or what's left of it.

"He'll need a sample and an immediate observation of the virus. The other medical and research agents could work on the antidote."Lancer saw Baxter was not going to let it go so he resolute to his anger doing the job. "Baxter, you and Fenton will work on this mission." He gritted his teeth. "Damn it, you need each other. Otherwise, the other division will take over and all our asses will be fucking kicked out. Now, do we still have a problem?"

"No, sir."They all replied in unison.

"Good. Pointdexter and Foley here will work on the schematics, codes and locating the master mind. Fenton and Baxter gear up. Your orders are to secure the area, stop the infection and locate the goddamned pawn who released the virus."

All of them stood, nodded and waited.

"What in the world are you all waiting for? MOVE YOUR ASSES NOW!" Lancer shouted.

The four of them scrambled to grab their stuff and exit the office, leaving Lancer exasperating.

-Hi, I've made many changes in this story. Okay, calm down, if you're one of the pre-edited version readers I know you're lost and confused but don't panic because I'm starting this all over. I've deleted the former chapters and replaced them. So this is basically a new story with the same conflict but different angles and events and characters… Well, you will encounter them later. I'm just saying that I did this because there were so many loopholes in my earlier works and I'm trying to fix them.

I know I haven't updated in years and the readers of this story (and my other stories as well) are probably planning to stake me or something if they knew where to find me. But yes, I'm so sorry. I really am busy, years passed and I'm working on my personal life, we all do. Sorry again.

And thank you for reading.

And reviewing :)