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Ectoplasm dripped from his suit, falling into the empty air below. He heard the telltale whirr of the ectogun powering up and jerked back just in time for the ray to miss his head. His back hit the building behind him, sparking a new fire on his skin.
Hissing, he pressed a slick glove to the gash on his side. The ectoplasm squelched between his fingers.
“Hold still!” came Valerie’s voice, muffled by the helmet.
Danny’s vision was spinning, static creeping around the edges of his eyes.
She fired again, someone below him screamed, and Danny braced for impact. Thankfully, the shot just missed, burning a hole into the brick beside him. He closed his eyes and yanked on his core, finding enough strength to phase backward through the empty building.
Valerie let out a guttural yell of frustration, but Danny couldn’t look back. Holding onto his intangibility, he shot through the floor and weaved around the empty cubicles.
He didn’t have long. His grip on his core was already slipping.
He flew through one wall, then another, and then he was back outside, barely hitting the open air before his intangibility flickered away. He hugged himself and gasped, willing more oxygen into his lungs.
If he could just escape unnoticed, he could deal with whatever the fuck Valerie’s new weapon was. Where normal ectoguns only burned, this one was far more insidious, eating through his body like acid.
Something clicked above him. “You’re done, ghost.”
Danny weakly looked up and gasped, “No.”
She was standing tall on her hoverboard, shoulders back, head high. Perched on her arms was that sleek, new gun made of pure evil and spite.
“I have to do this,” Valerie said.
“You don’t.” Danny’s body trembled, and he didn’t know if it was from blood loss, fear, or both. “I promise that whatever he’s paying you, it’s not worth it.”
“Don’t you get it? Ghosts ruined my life. You ruined my life. You think this is about just the money? Well, let me tell you something, Phantom.” Valerie inched closer. “My life was fine before you all showed up. And it’ll be good again once you all finally fuck off.”
Danny’s vision was tilting. He could feel what little hold he had over his ghost form slowly trickling away.
“If you won’t go back to the ghost zone willingly, then I’ll just force you to.”
He closed his eyes and searched for the last of his reserves. Something stirred from deep within, and he reached to untangle it from the web of his core. “I’m sorry for what happened, but I live here too. And I’m not leaving.”
His core sparked, and the chest of powers unlocked. He raised his hand, letting the current rush forward, down his chest, through his arms, pooling at his fingertips. His eyes shot open, but all he could see was light.
Bright light. White and green.
Like the portal.
He screamed as every nerve was electrified. His hair stood up, and every muscle vibrated.
He was in the portal again. Oh god, no, what had he done? He was dying, he was—
Cool.
Not hot. Not freezing. Just cool.
His senses snapped into focus, giving him just enough of a grip to look forward to where Valerie was flying in the direct path.
NO!
He thrust his arm up, sending the storm of lighting toward the clouds. Its vicious boom deafened the world around them with shockwaves of supercharged air.
And then, as quickly as the powers came over him, they dissipated. The giant storm of electricity faded from his limbs until it was just dancing around his aura. The shouts below quelled into whispers, and Valerie froze, weapon lowered, breathing hard.
“What the fuck,” she whispered.
Danny raised his hand, watching as sparks of electricity flittered around his aura. Above his suit, his Lichtenberg figures painted his aura like a beacon of light.
He pressed a hand to his chest, and his core hummed, pulsing with a newfound liveliness.
Was this a new power?
But no, it couldn’t be. Ghosts often developed powers relating to how they died—Ember had powers over fire, Skulker had telekinetic control over weaponry—but no, this couldn’t be it. His death was personal, it was private. It couldn’t…no…this couldn’t be…
“Phantom?”
The adrenaline was leaving his body, and he could feel his side slowly pulse with pain again.
There was no way.
He backed up, hitting the brick wall. The world began to womp womp womp around him as if a helicopter were flying by. His head spun, and he didn’t know what was happening anymore but he needed to leave he needed to get out he was surrounded by people, and—oh god, people saw that. There were phones and cameras below and everyone saw, everyone saw.
“Phantom! Wait!”
But he was already invisible and intangible, jetting through the air at speeds she would never be able to match on her hoverboard. He was already long gone.
He crashed into his parents' basement. Not bothering to check if his parents were nearby, he stumbled over to one of the metal cabinets and ripped the lock off its hinges. It clattered against the tile, broken. He flung open the doors and grabbed the first beaker he saw—pure ectoplasm, labeled—and downed it in one gulp. He threw the empty beaker aside and took the next one, downing it too.
“Shit, shit.” He spun around, heading over to the full-length mirror propped up against the wall, and stopped still at what he saw.
His worst fears had come true.
The Lichtenberg figure was painted onto him, starting at his fingers, wrapping up his arm, and branching into his chest, up his neck, and down to his stomach. His eyes were vibrant—no, electric. His new aura glittered, dancing through his hair, around his suit, sparkling like fireflies.
It was true. It was real. And it was standing right in front of him.
“Danny?” came a worried voice from the living room.
Cursing, Danny shot through the ceiling. He opened his bedroom door and called back, “Up here!”
“Oh…” Danny could hear uncertainty in Jazz’s voice.
“I’m fine!” he said.
“You sure?”
“All good! Just need sleep.”
There was a pause. “Okay…let me know if you need anything else.”
“‘Kay!” Danny said as cheerfully as he could muster before shutting the door.
Now alone, he sank to the floor and gripped his hair. His head was less foggy, and Danny didn’t know if it was because of the ectoplasm he’d just drunk or the sparks in his core. His side still leaked, and he was probably getting ectoplasm all over his hair, but he didn’t care.
Eventually, he would have to care. He would have to come to his senses and realize that he was staining the carpet green. He would have to bandage his side, wash the ectoplasm off his body, change forms, pull his pajamas on, and lie down on his mattress.
Sleep wasn’t kind to him that night. And when he awoke the next morning, he could still feel it. The change in his core, the cool tingle in his chest.
It was the portal. That’s what he felt, the vestige of the portal.
Disgusted with himself, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through social media. But every app was littered with comments and posts about him, about his new powers, about what it all meant.
Twitter was horrible.
Breaking: Phantom unveils new electricity powers. Experts discuss what this means for the hero. @APCN
So we all saw Phantom almost roast the Red Huntress with lightning, right???
I’ll have whatever Phantom’s having
WAIT does this mean Phantom was electrocuted to death?!
Reddit was even worse.
Theory: I think Phantom died via electricity and that’s how he was able to use an electrical attack tonight.
It’s common knowledge now that specialized ghost attacks develop due to the manner of death. I think the ectoblasts were a red herring and this is how he actually died.
What’s interesting is how his aura completely changed once the attack was activated. If you zoom in you can see it better, but he had some sort of electricity markers all over his body.
>My theory is that those are Lichtenberg figures.
Everyone here is assuming he was struck by lightning, but if that were true, the electricity mark on his body would start at his head and exit at his foot, rather than starting at his hand and traveling around his body. My theory is he grabbed something he didn’t know was charged, and the voltage was strong enough to kill him.
>I didn’t even think of that. And you can see the way he looks at his arms after. It’s a little hard to make out, but he looks panicked when he sees his arms.
Him being electrocuted still doesn’t explain how the ectoblasts fit into the picture though. As you said, ghosts only develop specialty powers that have to do with the cause of their deaths. This is something that’s been really well researched and documented.
>Phantom’s a pretty powerful ghost though, and the blasts are a product of the energy made from his core, right? So maybe his core is just so powerful that it generates more than it needs for his body, and he’s learned to expel the excess.
>>I don’t see how it would generate more unless there was a reason for it that related to his death.
Danny shut his phone off and buried his face in his hands.
This was a mess. Everyone was so close to figuring out the truth all because he couldn’t control himself.
Maybe Vlad had been right. That he was too unpracticed, too wild. Maybe if he just disciplined himself, it would be okay.
After all, the internet’s memory was fickle. If he pretended that side didn’t exist, if he never used those powers again, then soon everyone would forget.
And this would be but a distant nightmare.
Unfortunately, his core had other plans.
It started with a few mild static shocks at school. At first, Danny assumed it was due to being unadjusted to this part of his core. But as the days continued, the static shocks he was giving to his classmates, teachers, parents, and everyone around him seemed to grow more frequent, stronger.
And his core. He could feel it. The energy buzzing below the surface, building each day. Egging him to let go, just let a little bit out, embrace his death, you know you want to…
“Dude!” Tucker whined as he shook out his hand. “This is like the fifth time today!”
Danny ducked his head. “Sorry.”
He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder, and when he looked up, Sam’s concerned eyes peered into his. “Danny, you need to stop trying to push this down. It’s not going away. You need to accept this.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t the one who was half-killed in their basement.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t make me any less right.”
“And honestly, Danny, this is getting ridiculous,” Tucker said through a mouthful of food. He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and waved it in the air. “All this buildup of power is gonna make you explode. At this rate, you’re gonna out yourself to the whole damn city!”
Danny rolled his eyes. “You guys act like I’ve never handled a new ghost power before.”
“This one’s a little different, though,” Sam said.
“A little?” Tucker scoffed. “It’s a lot different.”
“Just please promise that you’ll at least try?”
Sam’s eyes were full of hope, and Danny could only relent. “Fine. I’ll try.”
But even as he spoke and watched the tightness in her expression melt into relief, Danny could feel the ugly blackness that curled in his stomach.
Because all those feelings? His death? His new powers? The flashbacks he got when he unleashed his electricity into the clouds? How he felt the portal running through his veins every time he took a breath? How desperate his core was to release it all?
Those feelings?
They terrified him.
All he could do was shove them down and pretend they didn’t exist. He ignored the pull of the portal, the lightness in his core, the alertness in his flight. He carried a white hoodie in his backpack to throw over his jumpsuit now because even though he couldn’t cover up the Lichtenberg figures that decorated his aura, he could at least wear something of a similar color so they wouldn’t stand out as much.
But each time he transformed into Phantom, he felt it. The electricity. It grew stronger, harder to contain. Eventually, just as his friends predicted, the lid did blow.
And it felt exhilarating.
Skulker’s mechanical suit fried instantly, plummeting to the pavement, but Danny didn’t rush over to pluck him out. In fact, it was only due to Skulker’s inability to stop running his mouth that Danny remembered him at all. The rush he felt unleashing weeks of pent-up electrical charge in his core was addictive.
And then Skulker’s squeaky voice ripped him from his fantasy. “So the rumors are true, ghost child.”
And that’s when Danny realized he had an audience. From Skulker in front of him to the small crowd of people that had caught up behind him.
Shit.
Cameras flashed, and once Skulker was safely sucked into the thermos, the lull of voices increased to a dull roar.
“Phantom!” a journalist shouted. “Can you talk to us about your new powers?”
“Danny Phantom! A word for the camera, please!”
“What is with the sudden outfit change?”
Danny shielded his face as the cameras closed in, flashing around his vision.
“Phantom! Phantom!”
He opened his mouth, but how to respond? He didn’t know, he didn’t have that much planned. He just knew he had to say something .
“Phantom!”
But there was nothing he could say that would save the situation.
So for the second time, like a coward, he vanished into the air and jetted home.
He burst through the walls of his room, hands trembling, head dizzy, sweating and shivering simultaneously. He collapsed on the floor, knocking a model rocket off his shelf, but he didn’t bother to catch it or pick up the broken wing from his floor.
He curled his knees into his chest, gripped his forehead with his fingers, and stared wide-eyed at the carpet.
Using those powers felt…
Right .
But how could unleashing the very power that killed him onto the world be right? How could that evil, disgusting piece of himself feel good? Why?
How dare he. How dare he show the entire world his greatest moment of vulnerability. How dare he betray himself.
His eyes stung, and Danny let out a shaky breath.
A light knock rapped on his door. “Danny?” came Jazz’s voice.
Danny blearily looked up. He debated not answering, but then his loneliness won out. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Jazz wasted no time sitting on the floor with him. “What happened?”
“Didn’t you see? I fucked up. Again.”
“Danny…”
Danny shook his head, folding his arms over his propped knees and dropping his head into them. “It felt amazing.”
“To use your powers?”
“Yeah. It felt…I don’t know, it just felt so nice.”
“That’s a good thing, Danny,” Jazz pushed gently.
“No. I—” Danny choked on the lump in his throat. His eyes burned, and he glared at the carpet. “Jazz, I fucked up. I fucked up so much.”
“You didn’t.”
“I never wanted anyone to know.”
Jazz was silent, but once Danny cracked the lid, he felt a tidal wave of his fears pour out.
“I always knew the truth of how ghosts get their powers, but I figured my ectoblasts were it. I thought that they emulated the ectoplasm from the portal, and that was enough. And I was okay with that being enough because even if the other ghosts figured me out, at least the humans wouldn’t. But then the lightning happened and—and…everyone knows and I just…”
Jazz wrapped her arm around his shoulder to pull him close. “It’s okay, Danny.”
“No, it’s not okay. Now everyone is talking about it like it’s some cool piece of lore, and meanwhile I can’t fucking breathe without this horrible thing in my chest reminding me of the accident.”
“And that makes you feel…guilty? Scared? Because you enjoy the power now despite its origin?”
Danny took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know. It’s all just so confusing. I don’t know how to make sense of it.”
“Maybe you don’t have to make sense of it.”
“Huh?” Danny looked over at her inquisitive expression.
“I’m not a half-ghost. I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. You might not be able to make sense of it right now, and that’s okay. It might take months or even years to process what you’re feeling, but you’re not going to feel like this forever. It’s going to get better, it just takes time.”
“It’s hard to even have time when the public is jumping down my throat for answers.”
“So? You’ve never answered questions about your origin before. The public may be curious, but the hype will die down soon. It always does. For now, we’ll just take it one day at a time.”
Danny bent his head again, staring at his hand. The one that touched the button, the one that started this whole journey. Even if they weren’t visible in his human skin, he could still trace where the Lichtenberg figures were sculpted into his ghost form.
“You’re not alone, Danny. No matter how long this takes, I’ll be there for you, okay?”
“Okay.”