Danny Phantom: The Supernatural
A Fanfiction by Sealeena
Summary: What would happen if Danny Phantom took place when the whole gang was in their Senior year of high school?
How would it be if things were a little more…mature? Language, violence, sex, gore, and all the
good stuff that you all know and love! See Danny Phantom in a whole new light as well as his enemies and friends.
To Be Continued Disclaimer: No witty sayings here. I don't own Danny Phantom. At all *sobs*. Still, I do own a pair of fuzzy white slippers that are very comfy when I'm writing, and that will do for now XD
Chapter One: Mystery Meat (All New! In Terrifying Meat Vision!) Part I
"So Danny," a very large, hulking figure of a man in a black and orange hazmat suit stepped forward. His hands were on his hips, and his square jaw was set with a wide grin of pearly whites gracing his features, wrinkles from laughter beginning to crease the corner of his eyes and mouth with age. His hair was beginning to gray from the bottom up, but still retained a youthful shine in what was left in black. Strong black eyebrows were lifted gaily above a pair of cold, steely blue eyes. "You and your little friends want to hunt ghosts!" He proclaimed the last word by crossing his arms at chest level, forming a proud stance.
Obviously, the man was quite passionate when it came to ghost hunting. However, the three teens that seemed to have been forcibly placed into their seats were not so much. They were slouched, frowns marring their faces. The one closest to the large, older man with a strange sense of fashion spoke up first.
"Actually, Dad," he murmured, "I want to train to be an astronaut."
Although he spoke quietly, his voice was deep and sensual. The years had been kind to his physical appearance, allowing his frame to shoot to a whopping 6' 2". He was lanky, but there was a definite muscle tone to him, most likely the combination of running from bullies at a younger age and going to the gym daily in an attempt to stand up to said bullies. This had caused the boyishness to be erased from his features, the strong jaw much like his father set in place. His black hair was a shaggy, spiky mess, most of it falling in his eyes, obscuring their color. When visible, his eyes were a wonderful sky blue, dark blue flecks throughout them. At the moment, those eyes were filled with teenage awkwardness of a seventeen year old boy/man, and embarrassment, as well as boredom.
"Sorry Mr. Fenton," the young lady next to the son said, speech husky and wonderfully soft, "I was into ghosts but the supernatural is ridiculously mainstream now. It's kind of like that Twilight craze that's happening."
She was leaning back, legs and arms crossed to close off her surroundings. Pale milky skin was wrapped around a slender body that curved in all the right places. She had obviously blossomed quite nicely, as noticeable by the swell of breasts and the perfect roundness of her hips, legs, as well as other areas. She was shorter than the boy next to her, by a good deal, standing at only 5' 4" but the pixy-like nature was very flattering for her choice of clothing and makeup. With short, choppy black hair that was messily styled to perfection framed her angular cheekbones and face. Soft, large lips were covered with a dark, berry stain lip gloss, the complete opposite of her paleness. Thick, black eyeliner with lime green eye shadow surrounded the most beautiful, amethyst eyes imaginable that had flirtatious, long lashes. They held dusk, dawn, and that one mystical place all at once. With the I-could-care-less attitude shown in her gaze, it was one of the most enchanting things about her.
"Waste all these looks and charisma hunting ghosts? Criminal." This phrase came from an ebony skinned man next to the beautiful lady.
He had a deep, booming bass voice, perfect for his look. He was a tall hulking of a man, much like Mr. Fenton, but on the shorter side of course. He came to maybe 6' even, but the crazy muscles (usually associated with someone who wrestled) made him more menacing, strange for the face that he held a top of the line PDA in his hands and had a Bluetooth headset on his right ear. The attitude about him said giant teddy bear and goofball with just the right amount of techno geek. His hairstyle wasn't known, hidden by an off centered red Fedora that neatly sat right above the left eye, revealing twin teal orbs surrounded by a pair of stylish black frames that were shocked at the fact that Mr. Fenton would dare to suggest someone like him hunt ghost.
As much as the three teenager's attitudes practically screamed disinterest to the particular subject at hand, the jolly hazmat giant seemingly ignored them.
"Well if you do want to hunt ghosts," he said as turning away, "there are a few things you need to learn." With that, he lost himself in his own, strange little world that primarily consisted of an assortment of shiny beakers filled with various liquids at the moment.
The young man with dreams of being an astronaut rolled his eyes, but then suddenly sat up straight, his posture rigid. White knuckled, he gripped the edges of his seat as a cold, blue vapor leaked out of his mouth as he gasped. His father ignored him, still going through the beakers. The young man let out a groan of surprise and looked to his left, past his friends to a hole in the wall that was covered by a round door of metal with orange and black stripes, a red light on top that was glowing menacingly.
"Uh oh," he whispered, "this isn't good."
On cue, the portal silently opened and an eerie, swirling green vortex of light was seen as two transparent creatures flew from its depths and into the room. They had a green hue and large bulbous heads. They resembled that of an octopus, jagged tendrils flailing about their bodies. Red eyes full of primal fury and blood lust were bright as their razor sharp mouths opened in faint shrieks that apparently only the teenagers could hear before the creatures both reached out with their tentacles, wrapping around the necks of a very startled lady and teddy bear man. They ripped the two youths out of their seats, covering their mouths so that no screams could be heard.
"True I've never seen a ghost," old man Fenton piped up, frowning, "but when I do, I'll be prepared. And so will you, whether you want to be or not!" With that, he went back to his assortment of beakers again, lost in fantasy as his son looked at him, wide eyed, before turning his attention to his captive friends.
The two held captive were slowly being stretched out, as if the creatures were trying to tear them apart. The girl's face was scrunched in pain, while the other was desperately trying to use his strength to hold himself together. The son's brows furrowed in anger, determination written across his features. He suddenly jumped across the room at the creatures and there was a strange sound, followed by a burst of light, the sound of a skirmish following soon after. Mr. Fenton carried on his babble, not noticing the alarmingly unusual events behind him that would have most likely defined his career as a ghost hunter.
"It all starts with your equipment." He pulled what appeared to be a metal thermos with green striping on it. One of the octopus ghosts was thrown to the opposite side of the room, the man still oblivious to his happenings. The girl and the boy, apparently saved now, were thrown back towards their seats, noisily clattering to the floor, and they jumped up quickly, straightening out the furniture and sitting down with a thump. He turned around and looked at them, the thermos in hand. "Sam, Tucker," he referred to them, "this is the Fenton Thermos©." They looked at him, eyes wide with fear, but he didn't seem to notice (again). "It's supposed to trap ghosts." He turned away again. "But since it doesn't work yet," the octopus ghost appeared right behind him this time, looking quite distressed before it was pulled back again, "it's just a thermos." He frowned. Both the octopus ghosts were thrown to the other side of the room. His expression brightened, "a thermos with the word Fenton in front of it!"
The ghosts were by the portal now, dazed and obviously beaten. Their primal hunger gone, they flew back into the portal. The vertex of swirling green energy dissipated and the portal closed its doors silently, just in time as the "ghost hunter" Mr. Fenton turned around to point at it.
"That," he jabbed his finger at it, "is the Fenton portal©." He grinned; obviously proud of what he had built. "It releases ghosts into our world whether I want it to or not." He formed a heroic stance before quickly leaning over and tapping it with a large, glove covered knuckle. "Someday, I'll figure out how that works too." Seemingly done with his speech he turned back to his young charges and advanced. "Now, who wants to hunt some ghosts?" He looked down to see Sam and Tucker shaking, both covered in a cold sweat. Sam gripped the thermos with all her mite as Tucker stared ahead blankly. His son came up beside the two and placed a hand on Tucker's chair, gasping for breath, flushed, and sweating as though he had just exerted himself. Mr. Fenton smiled. "Look at you three. You're too excited to speak, so I'll just go on speaking." Lost in his first person narration fantasy world once again, he turned away form them. "I was born many years ago in a log cabin in the woods. I don't exactly remember where, but I do know I wanted a pony. Never got the pony. As a matter of fact, we had to eat horse meat during the war. I had a problem with that…"
A middle aged woman wore a black a blue hazmat suit that clung to a curving, fit body. Her dark auburn hair was cut into a no-nonsense bob. She had light blue-green eyes that were concentrating on the light of the handheld blowtorch currently residing in her left hand. Smiling, she gripped her hood with her right hand and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, allowing thick black goggles with red lenses to protect her eyes as she bent over a piece of machinery and went to work, sparks flying.
Across the kitchen table where she was performing this task, sat a young woman with long, orange hair and eyes like the older woman's, obviously the daughter of the lady with the hazmat suit. She frowned and her dainty hands grabbed at a very large book, throwing her scowling face into it. The title read Surviving Adolescence through Therapy. Stuck in her book, she allowed her breakfast cereal to become soggy, completely forgotten. The black-haired, blue-eyed boy that had earlier been with his father had one elbow on the table, chin resting in his hand as he ate his cereal, chewing thoroughly, obviously not bothered by his mother or sister's actions.
The sister, still bothered by her mother, glared at the older woman quickly before immersing herself back into the book. The young man still ate bored by it all, until suddenly, as he went to take his next bite, he found that his spoon had fallen down into his bowl. Confused, and more awake, he looked down in surprise. Looking to his right hand, he found that while he could still feel it, it was not visible in the least. He let out a small gasp, not heard due to the loud blowtorch and hid it (or he hoped that's what he did), behind his back, shaking from the sudden shock of a transparent limb.
"Okay!" the older woman exclaimed. "Just two more days and it's done." She turned off the blowtorch and looked at her work in satisfaction.
"What did you say?" Mr. Fenton, still clad in his ridiculous suit of orange and black came up behind his wife, fingers reaching for the device she had just been working on. "It's done?" He grabbed it and lifted it proudly, as if an anime style of bursting lines would appear behind him, emphasizing the amazing quality of the device. "The Fenton Finder© is done! This baby uses satellites to lead you right to the ghosts." With that he pulled the object close to him a switched it on. A radar screen started and a blip could be seen. It read a ghost was mere meters in front of them.
"It uses what to track what?" the son asked, his voice cracking slightly as he eyed the device nervously.
WELCOME TO THE FENTON FINDER© the screen read. A GHOST HAS BEEN DETECTED ON THE PREMISES 5 ½ FEET IN FRONT OF YOU. PLEASE STEP FORWARD.
The young man leapt from his seat, arm still intangible. He gulped nervously as his parents looked at the screen, smiling and following their instructions, stepping ever closer to their son. The young man backed up to the pantry food closet as they closed in on him. He pressed himself as much into the wall as possible until his parents stood right before him.
The screen said GHOST LOCATED. THANK YOU FOR USING THE FENTON FINDER©.
His parents stared at the screen in disbelief. They looked at their son and then at the screen again, both with equal amounts of frustration.
"What?" Mr. Fenton exclaimed in disbelief. "That can't be right!" He looked to his wife, both of them looking at each other in disbelief. They missed the fact that their son suddenly completely turned invisible as he tried to keep a smile on his face. He noticed this and looked down in terror. He suddenly became visible again and looked up at his parents, eyes wide. "The damn thing has to be broken or something."
"I'm not finished, Jack," his wife informed sweetly.
"Actually, there's something I need to tell you," the young man said, slumping with obvious defeat.
"That's not all you need, Danny," his sister said while slamming her book shut. She got up and walked over, placing her hand on his forearm as her shorter self could not reach up to his tall shoulder. "You also need guidance with parents that can provide it." She stepped in between her brother and parents, glaring at the people who spawned her accusingly.
Her mother gave an exasperated sigh. "Sweetie, Jasmine, I know that what we do doesn't make sense sometimes but you're only—
"20," Jazz interrupted. "I am no longer a child. I am officially an adult in body and mind. I attend the university and I come home for a weekend to see you doing these potentially damaging actions. I will not let you pollute the mind of this impressionable man that is on the verge of graduating and going out into the real world with your insane obsession of ghosts!" She hugged her brother around her waist, but it was as if she was hugging a small child as he cowered in absolute confusion and embarrassment. "Come you abused, unwanted wretch." He eyed her, creeped out by her sudden, poetic air. "I'll drop you off at school."
With that, she dragged a bewilder Danny Fenton along, all the while glaring at her parents. Luckily, he was able to grab his computer bag before Jazz went any further. They were soon out of the house, the door slamming to signify that they were gone.
"Huh, that's weird," Mrs. Fenton muttered, "Jasmine never offers to drive Danny to school."
"That can only mean one thing, Maddie!" Jack declared. He scowled, blue eyes penetrating. "That's not our daughter." His expression became serious and grave. "That's a ghost." They both stood in the empty kitchen for a minute, completely frozen in time as the realization that their daughter could be a real live ghost slowly dawned on them. The discovery at such an event spurred them into action, Jack bursting across the kitchen and heading for the door first with Maddie following close behind. "Danny no! It's a trap!"
Casper High was a place of academic excellence, with its halls decorated with various posters and wall scrolls and banners, proudly proclaiming Casper High Spirit in bold, blue letters. Students crowded the place, chattering. Most were heading towards their first period class, although a few sat on the floor, absorbed in text books. There were a few art students, sketching the scenery before them of adolescents. One was using drumsticks on his textbooks as practice, the only good use for them. A young Freshman couple were flirting shamelessly, fine with over the top PDA that wasn't restricted at the high school, and in the middle of the cacophony of cell phones, gossip, spit swapping, and hormones, walked three social misfits: Samantha Manson, Tucker Foley, and Daniel Fenton were almost literally joined at the hip as they walked down the hall, armed with nothing more but book bags and their long threesome friendship of six years.
Tucker helped to push aside the smaller teens, protecting Sam. He was dressed in a form fitting, golden long-sleeved shirt that had red lettering that said 'I'm Bringing Sexy Back,' the Aeropostale signature on the back. Tight tailored jeans showed off…some assets as he walked and he wore a pair of faded red converse with black detail and laces. His trademark red Fedora completed the outfit.
On the other side of Sam, Danny helped to silently protect her as well. His hair was a haphazard mess, attractively falling in complete disorder. He wore a tight dark blue polo with a white pin-striped shirt that was slightly wrinkled over top. He had on a pair of equally tight, low slung dark jeans and a pair of black skater shoes, the laces undone. His black messenger bag hung across his chest, bringing out the definition of his pectoral muscles. All this, coupled with his tall physique, he looked quite attractive and just a few girls swooned at the trio that were both unpopular and popular at the same time (the three had a secret fan base that spanned across several websites including, LiveJournal, Fanfiction, and Facebook).
Sam trudged along in the middle. She wore a black corset like tank top with dark purple ribbon that laced across the front as well as the back, where it tired into a big bow at the bottom of her lower back. Silver studding decorated the top and bottom hem of it and pulled her breasts tight together so that the swell of them could be seen, emphasizing the tiny waist she had. She had a black miniskirt with a dark purple chiffon peeking out underneath. Black fishnets covered the mile-long sexy legs and disappeared into calf-length chunky black boots with numerous buckles and spikes. A rosy blush was dusted across her fair cheeks at the attention her two friends were giving her. Her lips were once again covered with the berry-stain lip gloss. Sparkling black eye shadow and liner made a smoky effect, creating a very dreamy, sexual look. All that with her carefully textured hair made her looks like an erotic fairy.
"I think I should tell them," Danny said as the slowly climbed the stairs. He was dragging his feet along, eyes full of concern.
"Why?" Sam asked, now behind the two of them. Her beautiful features were turned into a scowl. "Parents don't listen. Even worse, they don't understand. Why can't they accept me for who I am?" she angrily shouted to the ceiling, shaking her fists. Her many bracelets clanked together loudly.
Tucker looked at his slightly crazy Goth friend, eyebrow raised. Danny smiled nervously and interjected, "Um Sam, I'm talking about my powers." He pointed to himself, "My problems."
Rudely jolted from her rant, she gave a chuckle, embarrassed. "Oh right. Me…too."
"It's been a month since the accident and I still barely have any control." He gave a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms angrily. "If anyone sees the fucked up mess this has made I'm gonna go from being a geek to a freak…and possibly sent away." Not paying attention, his legs had turned intangible and he began to sink through the floor. "I don't know how I'm gonna keep this hidden."
"Kind of like what you're doing now?" Tucker asked.
He and Sam bent down to pick the half see through man, Tucker of course picking Danny up quicker than Sam could. He held the man in the air for a second until Danny's legs appeared again and he was able to stand on the floor properly. "God dammit! If my Dad can invent something that made me half ghost…" He ran his hands through his already mussed hair and reached the top of the stairs, Sam and Tucker closed behind. He kept his eyes on the floor, not paying attention to where he was walking. Of course, four years in the same school meant he had pretty much memorized the entire layout plan of the building. "Why can't he invent something that turns me back to normal?" He accidentally turned intangible and walked through a snack machine, turning tangible again, yet again making him scowl. "I'm a fucking freakshow!"
"Danny," Sam ran up next to him, looking up at him with a slight smile on her face, "your powers make you unique. Unique is good. That's a reason why I became a vegetarian."
"Which means what?" Tucker came over, bored and slightly lost in his PDA.
"She doesn't eat meat," Danny answered, still staring at Sam. He looked at her outfit for the first time today, secretly appreciating it as a fantasy started to rampage throughout his imagination. He mouthed to her, "Nice clothes."
They both felt the heat.
"Who cares about that kind of stuff?" Tucker interrupted the moment and pocketed his PDA. "Danny, I got two words for you. Meat Connoisseur." He leaned to Danny, closing his eyes and giving a quick sniff. His eyes opened again and he pointed to his taller friend confidently. "Last night, you had Sloppy Joes."
Danny smiled. "Impressive."
"Meat heightens the senses," he said a little smugly, "and my all meat streak is seventeen years strong."
Sam burst the bubble. "And it's about to end. I convinced the school board to agree to have a new cafeteria menu. It took some time, but I wore them down." She grinned evilly at Tucker as her words settled in.
"Wait. What did you do?"
A banner in the cafeteria told the poor, tortured souls of the student body that it was: Vegetarian Week (Respect Your Fellow Leaf Eater!). There were growls, grunts, and complaints as the lunch ladies dolled out fruit salad, veggie subs, and soy milk onto the cold, metal lunch trays. Danny looked down at his dismal lunch and asked, "What is this? Grass on a bun?"
Tucker dropped to his knees in front of Sam, clutching at her skirt in agony. "What have you done?" Sam stared down at him with her trademark smirk, a noble, proverbial lord staring down at the servant...in a sense. The effect was quite comical, really, with the itty bitty Samantha Manson staring down at a kneeling Tucker Foley.
"Tucker," she held up a veggie sub triumphantly, "it's time for a change."
Meanwhile…back at a certain high tech home with a large neon sign that reads "Fenton Works©"
In the basement/lab, the portal doors to the Ghost Zone were opened, the portal glowing with the energy produced from the swirling vortex of green doom. With a flash walked out a slight transparent, elderly woman. Her skin held a green hue. She was a larger woman, wrinkled with a prominent double chin. She was dressed in an old fashioned cafeteria outfit. It was an old, tattered pink dress with a white apron that had several unidentifiable stains. Yellow rubber gloves adorning her fat hands were stained a rusty red, reminiscent of blood. Her pink cap that matched the pink dress and a few stray wispy white hairs stuck out from underneath it. Her eyes were a dull red and were hollowed out. Several liver spots covered her face and her lips were extremely pale. She looked tired and sad, but then as she realized something, she smiled and looked quite nice, sort of like someone's grandmother just finished baking cookies.
"OOohhh," she said to herself out loud, "somebody changed the menu."
With that, she floated up, out of the basement where Jack and Maddie Fenton were working on a new invention, both ghost hunters oblivious to the presence that had recently been in the room. Maddie looked up at Jack, worry creasing her forehead.
"Maybe this is a bad idea…"
"No, it's perfect." Jack flashed his teeth down at her. "When Jazz gets home we suck the ghost out of her with the Fenton Extractor©!"
He pulled up what looked like a pimped out vacuum cleaner, cuing the burst of colorful light as he stood with the device heroically. At least, that's what he thought he saw. Jack did have some mental problems with self delusion and while his therapist gave him a subscription for some little blue pills, he normally forgot to take them and would often fall victim to his first person-narrated world that was much like a comic book to him…or a popular Nickolodean cartoon.
"But what if Jazz isn't a ghost?" Maddie's comment temporarily snapped Jack out of his insanity. Why she married him, only she knew, and sometimes not even she could figure it out. "What if we accidentally hurt her?" Motherhood had overthrown the scientist in her...if only for a moment.
"Maddie, the Fenton Extractor© doesn't hurt humans." He turned it on to demonstrate. "Unless it gets in your hair..." Ironically on cue, he had leaned too close and the ghost defeating device had enough force of suction to grab at the tips of his hair, ripping out a large chunk off the top of his head. He screamed in pain as his beloved invention but then quickly smiled down at his wife. "See?"
"Don't you think this is a little extreme Sam?" Danny asked, trying to pick a Brussels sprout out of his teeth. "I understand you want to make everyone aware of animal cruelty, but…I'm a growing man. I need protein. I mean, I respect your lifestyle choice, but you're sort of shoving my face into it. I thought you wanted to avoid that stuff?"
A hand on her shoulder, hairy and large, interrupted her. "Ah, Miss Manson." The three looked up to see an overweight man. He wore plaid slacks and a light blue button up shirt with a black tie. He was bald, but had a black beard that was thick and glossy and short. His green eyes were full of mirth, as if he knew a secret joke the others didn't. "The school board wanted me to personally thank you for ushering in this welcome experiment to our cafeteria." He grinned and went to walk off but Tucker's special meat senses kicked in and he sniffed at the teacher suspiciously, muttering something like "I smell meat." The teacher backed away as if the young man had suddenly grown fangs, which was quite possible, considering the meat connoisseur was in dire need of protein. "No, no, no! The rumors about the all steak buffet in the teacher's lounge are completely," he picked at his teeth with a toothpick, "untrue. Thanks again." He walked away.
Tucker glared at her, his massive frame hunched over, clutching a knife and a fork that were dwarfed by his fists. He pounded the table. "Yeah," he spat. "Thanks again for making us eat garbage Sam." Her name fell out of his lips with such spite and venom, it was a good thing they were friends. Otherwise they might have been considered fighting words.
"It's not garbage." She rolled her eyes, holding up the sub. "It's just meat free, organic matter."
"It's garbage!" both Danny and Tucker retorted in unison.
To agree to their point, another poor female student walked away from the lone lunch lady, a disgusted look at her lunch that was contained on her tray. As soon as the student had left, the old lady looked around, making sure that no one was paying attention. With no one else to feed (surely no one would come back for seconds), she pulled out a Big Mac that was hidden under the counter and snuck off to the back room, smiling at the fact she wouldn't be stuck with a vegetarian meal like the rest of the children she served.
The serving line was completely empty.
It was empty until a certain ghostly cafeteria lady floated down from the ceiling, invisible before turning back to a slight tangibility after noticing the cookbook for vegetarians. Materializing a little more, and still unnoticed to the rest of the cafeteria, she grabbed the cookbook and inspected it even closer. Realizing what it was and that it had changed the lunch menu, her eyes began to glow. The sweet, grandmotherly aura from early disappeared in a flash as an old, decayed demon took shape on her face, an evil creature that killed and terrorized.
Danny felt her presence, noticeable by the telltale cold, blue vapor that leaked out from his mouth.
His eyes widened. "Uh guys, I think I got a problem." His first problem came in the form of flying food that hit him squarely in the back of the neck. It was cold and brown, slightly gelatinous. Pudding maybe? A scream of "Fenton!" by a male voice that was dragged out immediately accompanied the hit. "Make that two problems." He turned to face his second problem, dread written across his features.
A man, standing an inch or two taller than Danny came barreling through the cafeteria. However, he was almost three times the size as Danny, with ridiculous muscles, much like Tucker, but instead of his demeanor saying he was a giant teddy bear, it was more along the lines of raging German Shepherd. He had golden hair that cut short with thick sideburns coming about halfway down his face. Of course, the hair color was fake, apparent by his black eyebrows. He had icy blue eyes. While they were shocking, there weren't quite as shocking—or beautiful—as Danny's. He had on a black muscle t-shirt that was covered by a Varsity leather jacket in red and white, Casper High's school colors. Various pins and patches were displayed on it, telling everyone that this angry man was the stereotypical jock. He had on a pair of low slung blue jeans, part of his white boxers showing and matching white Nike tennis shoes.
Holding a pudding cup that was half empty, he glared at Danny who stood up quickly to be closer to eye level. Tucker and Sam jumped up as well. The techno geek pulled out his PDA, ready to record any fight that might happen. Sam was leaning over the table, ready to pounce for the big jock if he would hurt her best friend, predatory smile gracing her pretty little face. Others started to circle the two handsome men, hormone driven teenagers eager to cheer on two guys that would possibly be beating the shit out of each other if the jock had anything to say about it
Danny eyed him warily, knowing that the slightest word could set him off.
"Fenton! I asked for a fucking chocolate pudding." He held up the cup menacingly. "You know what they gave me? They gave me a goddamn shit-tasting soybean crap. Soybean! I hate soybean!" He squeezed the pudding cup until it was crushed and let it slowly fall to the ground. "All because of your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend," Danny argued.
"I'm not his girlfriend!"
The two looked at each other, a blush coming across both their cheeks. It only lasted a second, but that distraction was all that was needed for the jock to grab Danny by his polo and haul him so the two were almost nose to nose. While Danny was on the tall side and quite fit for his age, he was still used to being a geek that got beat up by jocks. Needless to say, while he could most likely leave the German Shepherd man in tears, years of wedgies and beatings prevented him from doing so.
"These are supposed to be the best years of my life." Spittle flew from his lips onto Danny's face, who was still too scared to even wipe it away. "After high school it's all downhill for me! How am I supposed to enjoy my glory days eating this kind of bullshit?"
Sam crossed her arms and glared at him. His rage dissipated a little, allowing Danny to wipe the offending spit off his face. "Actually it's soybean."
Her glare could kill…if not, at least maim.
"Whatever!" He threw Danny down, the youth hitting the table with a loud bang. His chin bashed on the edge and there was a little blood that dribbled out the corner of his mouth and slid down to his chin. Danny looked up to see a fresh soybean pudding cup waiting for him. "Eat it." The jock spit into the cup. "All of it."
Hand shaking slightly, he took a spoon and took a scoop out, eyeing the spit sitting on top as if it were a cherry of doom…quite the right description for who knew what could be in the jock's spit. An STD of the mouth? Yes, that was quite the possibility and Danny really didn't feel like risking a clean health record because of some bully.
Just in time, the cold, blue vapor leaked out of his mouth as he gasped. He looked around and saw a strange, slightly transparent woman float across the serving line. Desperate for a distraction he looked down at his soybean pudding. "Uhh, ummm…." The idea hit him and he knew he would pay hell for it later but he was throwing the food at the jock and screamed at the top of his lungs, "Garbage fight!"
The food slowly slid down the jock and that was the only moment of quiet before every teen with a piece food went crazy and started flinging it at each other with wild abandon. Chaos ruled the lunch room as cliques set up mini forts. Many were happy to just be able to break the rules and were throwing food every which way, trying to take down as many of their peers as possible. Some hid behind lunch trays, wanting nothing more than to stay clean for the rest of the day. A few of the preppy/popular girls were cringing behind bigger boys that were happily part of the fray, any excuse for any kind of fight. Sam stared at the scene in disbelief and anger.
It was pure, beautiful chaos.
"It's not garbage!" she yelled. "Its--!
Danny pulled her down to the floor so that she was safe from any flying debris that might ruin her outfit. She glared at him at first, but the serious look in his eye told her to shut up and follow. They crawled along the floor, trying to stay as low to the ground as possible, Tucker close behind. The jock that had been torturing Danny spotted the trio and pointed a finger at them accusingly.
"You're gonna pay for this Fenton!" The threat wasn't as threatening when he got pummeled with more food and was soon a complete list.
"Great." Danny rolled his eyes. "I'm still his favorite. Does that mean I'm going to get raped?"
"Oh yeah, you'll get it prison style." Tucker laughed. "Or you'll get a great big ol' fisting."
"No lube," Sam added.
They reached the door that led into the kitchen. Slowly, Danny pushed it open and all three peered in at once. They spied the ghostly lunch lady, her back to them.
Tucker's stiff posture relaxed at the sight of her. "Huh," he whispered, "she shouldn't be so bad. Reminds me of my Gram Gram."
"Gram Gram?" Danny asked.
Tucker chose to ignore him, as well as the slip up.
Slowly, the floating lunch lady turned around. She was hold a salad and looking at it confused. Her weary face was saddened and the three friends felt bad for her, for some unknown reason. They couldn't quite place it, but her being hunched over and the way she was looking so mournfully into the salad bowl, it was like shooting a puppy…well, not so bad because puppies were adorable and lovable and not…dead. The old lady turned back and carefully set the salad bowl down on the counter. Danny, not feeling threatened in the least, walked into the kitchen, Tucker next, and Sam last, who softly and carefully closed the door as to not catch anyone's attention.
"Shouldn't she be haunting a bingo hall or something?" Danny asked his two friends.
"Hello children." Her voice was sweet and nurturing with a hint of an Irish lilt to it. "Can you help meh?" She floated over to them so that she was at Tucker's height. Sam looked up, tense. She didn't want to admit it, but the ghost was a little too friendly for her tastes. It was almost like the calm before the storm, so to speak. "Today's lunch is meatloaf, but I doon see the meatloaf." She still looked around, as if the meat might appear before her suddenly, red eyes still sad. Holding her hands close to her old bosom, she looked at them imploringly, a slight smile on her face that held a little hope. "Did someone change the menu?"
"Yeah." Tucker pointed to Sam. "She did."
"YOU CHANGED THE MENU?" she bellowed. The sweet grandmother nature disappeared. Her white, wispy hairs flamed up with ghostly energy, tinged with a glowing red light. Her body increased in size. The sad expression was replaced by one of pure rage and hatred. The red eyes bulged out of her skull, glowing insanely and veins popped out of her forehead and neck. A demonic aura surrounded her as she increased in size and more rotting flesh and bone could be easily seen. The dried blood on her clothes was more menacing and the three looked at her, backing up towards the door, but unwilling to flee. "THE MENU HAS BEEN THE SAME FER FIFTY YEARS!"
She gave an unholy wail and floated higher into the air and green, ghostly energy flamed around her body. She raised her arms high above her head and the energy shot up into a pillar of swirling energy above her head. Pots and pans and various food ingredients swirled about the room, slowly being drawn towards the ghostly vortex.
"Guys!" Danny shouted. "Get behind me!"
They readily jumped behind him in under a split second.
"Oh yeah," Sam rolled her eyes, "I feel safe."
"I'm going ghost!" and with that Danny spread his legs, arms high above his head.
A light suddenly burst from his body.
To Be Continued…
AN: Wow. It's been a while, hasn't it? If you're new to me and my stories, let me just say my last Danny Phantom fic was Obsessions: Director's Cut and that was finished like what? Two years ago? However, I was surfing fanfiction and saw that there were still a lot of people that are into this series (yay!), so I decided to give it another try. I'll be following the TV show, just making it more mature and there will be some spins and twists that arc a little differently, as in death of those random characters we see in random episodes, hot and steamy sex/makeout scenes, and a few other surprises! Originally, I was going to do the entire episode for a chapter, but 6500 words later, I got a little discouraged, so "episodes" will most likely be broken up into two chapters. I hope this keeps you all happy. Let me know what you think by leaving a review. Criticism is appreciated and needed but no flaming please. I don't feel like opening a can of whup-ass. Also, lots of reviews means faster updating so touch the little button and make us all happy because as we know…touching is good :)