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Chapter 4: A Temporary Truce

Danny Fenton, codename "Hunter," leaned against the handle bars of his bike, his body slumped backwards on the leather seat as he relaxed in the afternoon sunshine. His trench coat hung from one of the handlebars, discarded in the wake of warm weather. The screen belonging to the satellite ghost tracker in the dashboard flashed, the words 'unable to locate target' written in block green letters across the map of the United States.

Hunter wasn't watching the screen though. He preferred to work things out himself, with good old pen and paper—or in this case, a map and a sharpie.

The map was held open to display the same area of the US as the screen, but this version had a series of pen marks, mostly scattered around the major highways and leading north from Wisconsin to Minnesota. There were thirty in total. The black marks were for the locations where a white haired ghost boy in a black jumpsuit had been spotted. The red ones were for encounters Hunter had had with Phantom himself.

Out of the thirty, twelve were red.

Twelve times their paths had crossed and twelve times the teenager had slipped through his fingers. It was unlike anything Hunter had experienced before. Ghosts were many things, but subtle was not one of them. Yet every time he managed to corner Phantom, the ghost would phase through a wall or fly around a corner and then vanish without a trace.

Despite his title, Hunter wasn't much of a hunter. It was not a skill he had ever needed to practice. His first encounter with a ghost would almost always be the last and if not he would at least get a lock on the unique ecto signature, allowing him to pinpoint a ghost's location with perfect accuracy.

Sure there were still ghosts out there who he knew of that had not been captured, but none that he was actively pursuing. The longest any ghost had survived after Hunter turned his full attention to it had been a measly thirty six hours, but at this moment the green-eyed teen was pushing a full week.

Hunter was inclined to blame the tracking system for his continued failure to detain Phantom. Ever since he had woken up after his fist battle with the ghost boy it had been on the frits. For long periods of time it would insist that Phantom's ecto-signature was nowhere to be found then, seemingly at random, it would beep wildly and lock in on its target.

If Hunter took to the road quickly after the alert, he would find Phantom, often flying at full speed along the side of the highway.

The events after that moment had played out so often that it almost felt like routine now. Hunter would attack and Phantom would retaliate, both unable to use full power while also maintaining chase speed. And while Hunter's ability to aim while steering improved greatly as a result, nothing else ever came of these little encounters.

Eventually the two of them would reach a populated area, a rest stop or a small town or maybe even a proper city, forcing Hunter to holster his weapon in order to avoid any casualties getting caught in the crossfire.

The ghost boy would then take this moment to make his escape. Through invisibility, intangibility or pure ghostly speed, Phantom would break Hunter's line of sight and utterly vanish in the blink of an eye. Right after that the tracking system would lose the signal again. Further scans would show a trail of residual ecto-energy, but no signs of life besides the bustling of fellow humans going about their day.

Hunter found this phenomenon to be both utterly fascinating and completely infuriating. The only explanation he could come up with was that Phantom had found a way to hide his ghostly energy.

It seemed the most likely explanation, but he had never seen any spirit capable of completely hiding itself. Even those that overshadowed humans couldn't keep every bit of their energy contained within living flesh. Humans and ghosts were just too biologically incompatible.

Hunter traced his finger along the rough line of marks that indicated the path Phantom was taking. His thoughts buzzing as he asked himself one of many questions that had begun to plague him over this past week, "Where are you going?"

The deserted parking lot outside Flanagan's roadside diner didn't seem to have an answer for him, but voicing the question out loud did a little to clear his mind.

Hunter folded the map and tucked into a small pocket in the back cover of a black notebook, pinning it with a paper clip so it wouldn't fall out before he started flipping through the pages. About half the book was filled already, its pages covered with rough sketches and detailed, well-organized notes.

Almost every notable ghost he had faced had its place somewhere in the book. He recorded their names, details about their powers and what attacks they favored, how well they seemed to mimic human emotions, what personality traits were expressed, and, most importantly, details on each ghost's unique obsession and guesses about who they were in their past life on earth.

Hunter had started making the book soon after his first successful hunt. After returning to Vlad with his catch, Vlad had shooed the then 17 year old boy up to his bedroom so he could begin the process of freeing the spirit from its obsession and allowing what remained of the soul to find peace.

It sounded nice, the theory, but Uncle Vladdy had assured his young charge that the process he needed to use was anything but. That's why the youngest Fenton had never been allowed into the lab to see it, even after his eighteenth birthday. Vlad seemed adamant that observing might negatively affect Hunter's confidence in battle, and Hunter had to agree. He knew that if his guilt caused him to hesitate in the heat of battle, even for a moment, it might cost innocent lives.

However, Hunter did know enough about the process to realize that after he handed a full thermos over to Vlad, the ghost inside would never be seen again.

It was soon after that Danny had found himself in an office supply shop, his second full thermos slung over his shoulder. He had picked out an ordinary, leather-bound journal and written the first page under the bright light of the moon, adding a quick drawing from memory before he began the long trek back home.

Two years later, the book functioned as research notes, memorials for those he had hunted, a journal and strategy guide. The information held within would be invaluable to any researcher of ghosts, but to Hunter it was even more than that. He wouldn't have called it his prized possession, but it certainly was one of the only things on the planet he would never part with.

Hunter eventually found the page he was looking for. He ran a finger over his own neat handwriting, smiling a little to himself as he reflected that if he had kept notes like this in school he probably wouldn't have had a C average.

A pencil sketch gazed up at him from the opposite page, and even though the drawing was in black and white, Hunter could see those wide defiant green eyes gazing back at him. Daring. Mocking. Self-assured. Reminding Hunter that out of all the ghosts in the journal, he was the only one who still had his freedom.

Out of a combination of boredom and frustration, Hunter began to reread his notes. Vague hope that perhaps some of the pieces would fall into place if he kept thinking. It was preferable to sitting there like a duck, waiting for Phantom to show himself again.

He flipped to the first page and began reading from the beginning…

High-Profile Target #37: The Ghost Boy (AKA Phantom)

Target 37 was first encountered thirty miles out fromMadison Wisconsin, where he had been seeking refuge amongst other ghosts. Initially, I assumed he must have made an alliance with them, but later events showed their loyalty to him was negligible.

After successful detainment, I decided that in the interest of further study it was worth having a rematch with him in a controlled environment. Initial progress seemed successful, but through a lapse of judgment he escaped. As of June 15th he is still at large.

Hunter flipped to the next page. The general overview notes were the least interesting part of his make-shift case files. They were good for getting a quick overview, though, and were also vague enough to allow him to hand them over to the Feds if they wished for a written report on his activities when reviewing his Ghost Hunter's License.

Subject Name: Unknown, later referred to himself as Phantom. However, I'm hard pressed to believe this is anything more than apseudonym. The capital letter D on his chest and his nervousness when relating his name would indicate that he is either lying or unable to remember his name from a past life.

Physical appearance: Remarkably humanlike, to levels that I have not encountered before. He appears to be a male, aged about 16 to 17 years, although I would lean towards the younger side of the scale.

Unlike many ghosts, he still retains human pupils and irises, electric green in color and with a tendency to produce their own ghostly light. Similarly, his hair (an uncanny silvery white in color) is made of individual strands that look soft and bouncy. If I am given the opportunity, a brief stroke of those locks could provide valuable information about how ghost's form their bodies.

Hunter winced. He usually attempted to keep his notes professional, but sometimes his analysis gave way to his inner musings, especially when he was dealing with ghosts that drew special interest.

Still, at least in the text it sounded like he was just curious about body structure, and while it was true that it would be interesting to find out…Hunter had a feeling that if, no, when he managed to recapture Phantom, his thoughts would be far from scientific study when he ran his fingers through the boy's silky white hair.

Clothing and personal accessories consist only of a skintight black suit covering everything from the neck downwards. While the aesthetics of the outfit are a little questionable, there is no doubt that it's functional. He uses this to his advantage; given the abnormal flexibility of ghosts, the suit allows him to have complete freedom of movement.

However, the suit also seems to have a tendency to rip under harsh conditions, to the point where one could easily measure the ferocity of a battle by how intact it is. Interestingly enough, it even rips in a manner similar to real clothing, despite the fact it is clearly made of ecto-energy (as evidenced by the fact it heals along with cuts and bruises). Ghosts normally don't have the will or the power to give their clothes the properties of real world material.

Hunter could still vividly remember the sound as his knife tore through the material covering Phantom's chest, the sound alone doubling the intensity of the moment. At the time the move had been needed to force Phantom off after the ghost had come dangerously close to snatching his protective amulet, but then not a day later, the suit and his skin were smooth and untarnished.

Since Hunter severely doubted that Phantom had time to stop by a tailor to get it fixed, this development might prove his theory that ghost clothing was an extension of themselves that healed in a similar manner to skin.

Most ghost hunters assumed that it was simply fabric from another world, but if he could get a sample to analyze, he might just prove them wrong.

Powers and abilities: Considerable fighter in both hand-to-hand and long-range combat. Has a full complement of ghostly powers including a large number of special abilities. Phantom has mastered Duplication, Spectral Body Manipulation, and Cryokinesis (ice manipulation). I also suspect that he may be able to transform, changing his appearance at will. It would account for his uncanny ability to elude detection.

Phantom also seems to have complete control over his own power supplies, twisting ecto-energy to his will and using it in ways I have never seen before. Over my week of observation, I have seen it used from manipulating objects to forming solid ropes and bounds (which are surprisingly difficult to escape from).

Last but not least, he had one special power. I have been unable to identify it since its use resulted in almost instantaneous unconsciousness. From what I can tell it must be a power blast of some sort, but one not leaving any trace besides flattened grass and bent trees. I am not certain a civilian could survive it, leaving a very real possibility that Phantom could commit mass murder at will.

Luckily he seems only able to use it under extreme stress, much like a trapped animal making a desperate bid for freedom. In light of this fact I've decided that cornering be avoided before capture. The faster you can contain Phantom, the less chance he will have to be able to unleash this power.

Hunter nodded to himself, suddenly aware of the dark purple bruises that he had gotten either form the fight or from the blast. It was at times like these that he envied the healing abilities ghosts seemed to possess.

The paragraph did more than just remind Hunter of his injuries though. It also painted a clear picture of the kind of ghost he was up against. To put it bluntly, he was certain that if Phantom wished, the ghost could level a whole city on his own before he could be stopped.

The mere thought made Hunter sick, especially knowing that his failure had directly led to Phantom's continued freedom. Any damage the ghost managed to do would be on his shoulders. All it would take was one mood change, and then when the dust settled there would be nothing to do but bury the dead and try to console the survivors.

Whenever he thought about it like that, Hunter felt an old familiar rage building inside of him, a fiery unrestricting hatred that had been burned into his soul at the tender age of fourteen.

But Hunter was not a vengeful teen anymore. He was a grown man and one who had learned from experience to control his emotions and think logically. In this case, all Hunter had to do was remember that although Phantom was capable of such violence, he had never once seen an instance where he used his powers for that end unless he was provoked, usually by Hunter himself.

Of all the bizarre observations he had made on Phantom, that was by far the strangest thing about the ghost teen. Running, hiding, avoiding conflict, these were seen as acts of cowardice in ghost culture and for a ghost of Phantom's power level it was completely unheard of. Even when he lost Phantom in those populated areas, the news report the next day never had anything about a rise in crime or any other paranormal disturbances.

History clearly showed that unchecked high-level ecto-manifestations left trails of destruction in their wake, but Phantom passed with barely a whisper. The only exclamation Hunter could use to justify this behaviour was that the ghost must have some form of reverence for human life.

It was hard to even admit that thought to himself, though, as it went against everything modern science believed about ghosts. Ghosts do to not feel empathy, they don't see reason, and if they can destroy something they will. The powerful dominate the weak, and that's what the humans were to them; weak creatures to be used or removed, depending on the ghosts in question.

Hunter had only managed to gain what respect he had from a long reign of terror and through many acts of what the ghosts must have perceived as murder… but that was the way it worked, the only thing that could stop a ghost from wreaking havoc was fear.

That's why he was a ghost hunter, that was why there were ghost hunters. A force of mildly organized tough guys meant to instill fear. Though crude it had managed to uphold a shaky peace between humans and ghosts since the first ghost vs. human conflict, respectfully named 'The Battle of Amity Park'.

Hunter's eyes closed tightly. He hated all this deep thinking, it was much easier for him to just hate ghosts than it was to understand, but the natural inquisitiveness passed on from of his two scientist parents refused to let him remain ignorant.

If ghosts could be reasoned with and some form of truce could be worked out…it might put an end to the random attacks and the veil of fear that humanity had been living under since they realized they were not the most powerful beings anymore.

'No,' Hunter reminded himself firmly, 'ghost are not like that, you've seen it…You've lived it…They don't feel empathy. Phantom is simply an anomaly, a glitch in the order. He's probably the only one of his kind…" Then a new thought surfaced, 'And I'm going to find out why.' Hunter took a deep breath, suddenly realizing he had forgotten he was even holding his notebook, his fingers clutching the book a little too tightly.

Hunter loosened his grip gingerly, leaning back against his bike again. This waiting around was really starting to get to him.

He turned his attention back to the pages, only to remember that the last section of Phantom's case file was a complete mess. The space was meant for his personal notes on a ghost but instead it was filled only with erased pencil marks, crossed out sentences and half-legible scribbles.

Hunter shut the book with a snap, sat up on his bike and tucked it away again—only to pull it out a second later, flipping to the very back of the book.

Those pages held a few more sketches, but Hunter's eye was only drawn to the one sitting in the middle of the page. It was of Phantom, pressed up against the bark of the tree Hunter had pinned him against, the top half if his suit torn open like it had been…but there the similarities to real life faded and fantasy took over.

Phantom was on his knees, his green eyes defiant but his quivering lips betraying the fear he was feeling. A hand from somewhere outside the area of the drawing was laced into his short hair, forcing him to keep his eyes up. In response Phantom had grabbed the front of the coat belonging to a man that was only hinted at in the drawing itself.

Underneath it was an even more incriminating sketch, Phantom lying on his back, spread out over a collection of soft-looking pillows, his suit not torn but unzipped in a manner that showed off that same stretch of lightly muscled chest. A dark blush was spread across both his cheeks, but it didn't seem he was quite embarrassed enough to change his lascivious posture. The drawing captured him in the middle of a beckoning motion, tempting the viewer to come join him.

Those were just the most detailed of the sketches however. Smaller scribbles of Phantom littered the next few pages. Running jumping, kicking, charging an ecto-blast and flying… there was even one of him resting peacefully with his eyes closed, captured from a memory of finding the ghost lying in the grass as he took a break from his little cross-country trip.

Hunter closed the notebook, suddenly feeling like he needed some fresh air. He packed it away again, throwing his coat over his shoulders and flipping the ignition on his bike. It roared into life under him and in less than a minute he had pulled back onto the highway, picking his direction at random before joining the rush of traffic.

Wind whipped through Hunter's short black locks, the fast motion of the bike and the role of the pavement as it disappeared behind him was inherently relaxing and it did a lot to calm his frayed nerves. After about five miles he finally allowed himself to drift back into his thoughts.

'All right, Fenton, time to face facts…You're completely head over heels for that damn ghost kid…'

Admitting it to himself was more of a relief than anything, but just like admitting you have a problem, that was only the first step to solving it.

He was conflicted, but not for the reason most would think, because lucky for Hunter he was long passed the confusion about being attracted to members of the undead. In fact if you managed to get your hands on his little notebook (unlikely given he would rather kill you than part with it) you would find similar pictures to those of Phantom but featuring any number of other ghosts, a small portion of which Hunter had the pleasure of getting to know very intimately…for a short time anyway…

While Hunter's taste in lovers was a taboo to be sure, it was also not an uncommon occurrence among his fellow ghost hunters. After all, they were the only ones able to gain the respect needed to be considered anything more than prey.

Of course these interspecies liaisons could never last...but the rush for just that one night made it worth it. Hunter had even worked out a system for himself detailing how to approach ghosts that caught his eye…the problem now was that Phantom was failing his criteria.

Phantom's power made him both irresistible and a risk that Hunter could not afford to take, because the bargaining chip the blue-eyed male used in order to entice a sprit into taking his offer of intimacy, was their freedom. (Or as Ember has so crudely put it, "If I fuck you, you'll let me go?")

Sadly, freedom was something that Phantom, however placid he may seem, could never have. You don't put a nuclear bomb next to a playground even if you're sure it's disarmed, and the same could be said for the ghost kid.

Of course even with strong sentiments like that Hunter still had doubts, and throwing a ton of perverse sexual lust into his already mixed feelings just made everything worse.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Ecto-signature location success, calculating fastest route.

Hunter snapped to attention, his heart rate quickening as the realization that the hunt was on again. He took his eyes off the road for a bare second to check the screen, a traffic violation yes, but at nineteen he was still too young and reckless to care.

Phantom was a hundred miles away tops, which was not outside the norm. He never seemed to get far while remaining undetected. With a pleased grin, Hunter also noted he was already going in the right direction.

"Keep straight for 40 miles," the GPS chirped, a little redundantly. Hunter muted the thing and leaned forward on his bike, speeding up considerably. Today might be a good day to see if he could top his high score for miles per hour on a freeway…

But just as Hunter was about to slam down the gas a second alarm went off on his dash. It had its own special tone so that Hunter would recognise it, and over the years he had begun to hate that sound.

It was the universal ghost distress signal, every town or city in the states had one. Since they didn't have enough anti-ghost military forces to station in every city, they set up a system that would call any nearby ghost hunters as well as military backup at a push of a button.

With a growing sense of dread, Hunter checked the GPS display, only to find his fears confirmed. Phantom's location and the source of the single were overlapping. The town would have only triggered the alarm if they were under serious attack, so this could only mean one thing. Phantom had finely snapped.

Hunter gripped the handlebars of his bike tightly, trying to suppress the urge to punch the screen. He felt betrayed, but that didn't make any sense since he hadn't trusted Phantom to begin with.

Hunter took a deep breath, resolving that he could work out his issues once he stopped Phantom…because right now, every life the ghost took was on his shoulders.

Make no mistake, though, when he got there Phantom would pay tenfold for every ounce of blood he spilled…

_________________________________________________________________________

Danny needed to act fast before this monster managed to kill anyone.

This town was well-equipped to deal with ghosts, much like all the others he had found in this world, but sadly, their defences were only limited to dispelling smaller ghosts.

In theory that made sense, since this city wasn't populated enough to warrant a serious attack. Of course that was assuming ghosts cared what they attacked. To be fair, many did have the power of reasoning to accomplish this, but others only had enough brain power to step on anything they didn't like, and at the moment, the thirty-foot-tall brute lumbering his way down Main Street seemed to be a member of the latter category.

Danny flew hot on the monster's heels, blasting away at the vaguely human-shaped blob of green ectoplasm. It barley seemed to register his shots though, shrugging them off like they were taps on the shoulder.

The creature reached down and grabbed a mailbox, crushing it between its large fingers and leaving nothing but a crumpled husk. Danny swallowed, not wanting to think about what that would look like if it grabbed some poor human.

He upped his power on the shots, concentrating a blast in both hands before he hurled it at the center of the ghost's back.

This time the galoot howled in rage and lashed out behind it. Danny swerved, avoiding the stubby arm that tried to swat him out the air like a pesky fly. Two large red eyes focused on the little ghost boy. Danny quickly began to charge another blast, but the other ghost was faster. Danny gasped and dropped his concentration as a fully loaded minivan came within five inches of his unkempt white hair. He stumbled back in the air, watching in shock as the car crashed to the ground, giving the galoot behind him just enough time to throw a follow up.

Lucky for Danny the only other car within reaching distance was a compact. Still hurt like hell though.

'Damn it…I know I've said it before, but I really, really, need to start playing more attention…'

With a groan of effort, Danny heaved the chunk of twisted steel and hubcaps off, ignoring the perfectly shaped Danny-sized hole in the concrete as he launched back into the air.

It seemed that the bigger ghost had already forgotten about him though. It was probably used to things going away after it threw cars at them. Danny followed it to the street corner where it was standing next to an apartment building, its own height making it about on eye level with the third floor.

It lifted its fist and slammed it into the concrete. Danny rushed forward, afraid he was going to take the whole building down, but the crumbling wall only opened into a single frilly pink bedroom, a rain of concrete and stuffed toys hitting the streets as the hand pulled back.

A high-pitched scream filled the air and then Danny saw her, a little girl likely no more than five or six clutched in the grubby fingers of the gigantic ghost. It was oddly reminiscent of a Japanese monster flick, but Danny wasn't exactly in a state of mind to enjoy the coincidence.

The ecto-blast Danny had been charging died again. He needed to get the little one away from the ghost. He couldn't risk going all out on it and hurting her. He needed to come up with a new strategy, and fast.

"Hey, Puke-Zilla!" Danny yelled, flying forward and circling around so he was about a foot from the ghost's gigantic face. "Think fast!" Danny drew back and punched it in its bulbous red eye.

The creature stumbled back and Danny went for his hand, wrapping his arms around the girl's torso and trying to turn her intangible. The power spread from Danny to her and she was just coming loose—

SMACK

The back of the other hand hit Danny and he was sent flying backwards through the air, tumbling head over heels until he came skidding to a halt on the pavement, his head smacking against a tire of a black sports bike.

Black sports bike…

"Oh you have got to be FUCKING kidding me!"

A second later and the barrel of a gun shoved against Danny's face, Hunter's bright blue eyes staring upside down at him from his seat on the bike. The sole of his boot came down on Danny's chest and he reflexively grabbed the ankle, pushing against him. Danny saw Hunter's finger tighten around the trigger, and his green eyes snapped shut.

"Are you trying to save that girl?"

Danny flinched, but when he realized he was still okay, he reopened one eye. Hunter was looking up at the gigantic ghost not a hundred feet down the street. It had started shaking the little girl in his grasp like a baby would with a toy.

Danny noticed the tone of urgency in Hunter's voice and he quickly snapped out of it. "Trying is kinda the keyword there, but yes, I am."

Hunter sighed audibly, and if the ghost boy didn't know better he would have thought he looked disappointed. The boot on Danny's chest lifted and suddenly the ghost hunter was all business.

"Take this," he said and took a small hand-grenade-shaped object from some kind of hidden compartment on his bike, pushing it into Danny's gloved hands. "There's a five second delay once you pull the pin. After that it emits a pulse of anti-ectoplasm that will cripple a ghost but leave humans unharmed."

In his head, Danny added that the weapon could cripple him as well. Handling the weapon with the upmost care he got to his feet, his eyes still focused on Hunter, more than a little confused by this strange turn of events.

"I'll run interference while you get a good shot. Throw it at him, get out of the way, and make sure you're ready to catch her. I've seen how fast you can fly, you should be able to do it."

Danny blinked. Was that a compliment?

Hunter kick-started his bike again and began tearing down the street at a breakneck pace. Danny followed suit, taking to the air and catching up within a matter of seconds, still a little confused to why he wasn't locked inside a Fenton Thermos.

Then it dawned on him, Hunter must believe that personal vendettas came last when lives were on the line. It was a principal that he had exercised many times himself and it had landed Danny with many unexpected battle-mates.

Maybe they were more alike than the ghost boy had assumed, even if Hunter was still a complete jerk and more than a little creepy. Especially when he had that dark look in his eyes that never failed to make Danny feel uncomfortable. Still, jerk or not, he wasn't going to say no to a little help. Not that he couldn't have handled it on his own, this just made it easier.

The sound of tires screeching across the pavement echoed across the empty street, the ear-splitting sound grabbing the attention of the green blob monster. Red eyes fixated on the little human and the ghost stretched out its other hand to grab Hunter.

Hunter pulled out his gun again and shot the thing in the middle of its hand without even blinking an eye. A loud bang and a rain of mushy ecto-goop showered the street, totally ruining the fount porch of a flower shop.

The monster howled in pain and pulled back its arm which now ended in a flat stump. It paused for a moment summoning up more of his goopy form to replace the appendage. With a thunderous growl of rage it flexed its fingers and this time made to crush the insolent human, but Hunter pulled up his feet and hit the gas. He and his bike were long gone by the time the fist impacted the ground, leaving a large crater.

"Please, I've seen snails move faster than that!" Hunter called from his new position behind the creature. He leaned on the handle bars and faked a yawn. "You gonna move this along or should I just take a nap?"

It was at this point that Danny finally caught up to the ghost hunter. He would have been there faster but he needed the slow pace so he would not be noticed by the monster.

The creature rounded on Hunter, lumbering towards him with footfalls that shook the whole street. Danny twisted in the air and appeared behind its shoulder. Hunter looked up at him, nodded, and Danny pulled the pin on the little weapon he had been given. Hoping to hell that Hunter hadn't been lying about what it did, he sunk it into the monster's shoulder with a ghastly squelching sound and turned tail, promptly getting the fuck out of there.

Exactly five seconds later a flash of blue energy enveloped the beast, a perfectly shaped sphere of impact zone that came within inches of Danny's boots.

A sound like a freight train impacting a cow filled the air as the monster screamed in pain. Danny decided he didn't want to ever know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of this particular weapon.

The flash was gone as soon as it appeared and a second scream, this time from the little girl, reached Danny's ears.

In its convulsions, the monster had thrown the girl and she was currently hurtling through the air in a manner that was completely and utterly unsafe for a girl her age…or for anyone who couldn't fly for that matter.

Danny shot forward at top speed, his hero instincts kicking in with a vengeance. Eyes narrowed along with his focus, he threw everything he had into his velocity .

He reached her with plenty of time to spare, his arms wrapping around her middle, practically plucking her out of the air. He kept the momentum going just long enough to slow the two of them to a gentle stop.

They hung in the air for a moment, before the little one finally opened her eyes. She twisted in his arms and Danny gave her his best reassuring smile. She took one look at him, noticed his ghostly aura, the floating, and screamed again in his ear.

"Get away from me, ghost, get away, get away, get away!" she hollered, kicking and lashing out with her tiny fists. It was all Danny could do not drop her. He tightened his grip and gritted his teeth, looking for a safe place to put her.

Her screaming was drowned out a second later as the monster that she had just been saved from howled and turned to face the floating pair. Danny's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when he saw that half the creature's face had melted. Given that it was a slime monster anyway the effect wasn't too gruesome, but it still looked unsettling enough to put the girl's cries to a sudden and abrupt end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Hunter taking aim at the staggered glop monster. He knew what he had to do.

He rushed the human and dropped the girl right in Hunter's lap. The gun he had been holding crashed to the pavement with a clang and Hunter glanced down. As soon as the girl saw that he was human, she grabbed him tightly, clinging to the front of his trench coat.

"Watch her," Danny ordered, staring at Hunter with his best serious face.

The blue-eyed male looked from the girl to the ghost, raising an eyebrow, "Do I look like a babysitter?"

Danny huffed and crossed his arms. "No, but she's scared of me, and I can't protect her if I have to worry about getting kicked in the face!"

The earth suddenly jumped under both male's feet, reminding them of the deadly monster just a hundred feet away.

"I'll fight him off, just keep her safe okay?" Danny insisted, taking to the air but still keeping close. He needed to hear Hunter give his word.

Hunter sighed deeply and nodded, and like a bolt of lightning Danny was gone. Hunter crossed an arm around the girl's back, kicking his bike back into life. For the first time in his ghost hunting career, he retreated to a safe distance and allowed someone else to do the work for him.

With some debating, he settled on a position just inside a nearby alleyway, sheltered from any large objects that could be thrown. One arm stayed around the girl's back, protecting the back of her head, while the other found the gun holster stored under his front tire and retrieved his backup pistol.

Feeling a lot less vulnerable now that he was armed again, Hunter turned his attention to the battle raging in the four way intersection, his eyes doing their best to follow the ghost boy as he flipped, jumped and blasted with a skill that would have made an Olympic acrobat green with envy.

It seemed Phantom had figured out that he had the advantage of speed and agility over the lumbering powerhouse and was chasing himself around the monster in circles. He never stayed long enough to give the creature time to even think about counterattacking before he was in a new position, firing wave after wave of ecto-beams into his opponent.

Hunter's grip tensed around his gun, caught between wanting to fight by the ghost's side and his unwillingness to abandon the little one clinging to him.

While he had no doubts the ghost boy could take down the green slime beast, the principal of leaving the fate of a city to a ghost wasn't sitting well with Hunter. He was used to them being the enemy, used to the hate and the fear. Every last bit of his instincts were yelling at him to attack them both before they had a chance to team up and turn on him.

Yet here he was, ignoring his instincts and hiding in a hole like a scared mouse.

How had one little phantom changed him so much?

Back in the heat of battle, Danny dogged another flying stop sign and was coming back around for another attack. Green light shot from his open palms in a continuous blast of d energy, burning away the protective layers of slime bit by bit. Slowly but surely, in much the same way a bear could be stung to death by bees, he was overpowering the much larger ghost.

The beast had shrunk to half its original size, and the crater of destruction around it had diminished accordingly. Danny charged his next blast with both hands, aiming for the chest. Another sick splat and he had to turn intangible to avoid being coated in the sticky mess that splattered a row of buildings. He did not envy whoever had to clean this up.

It was almost time to put the lid on this baddie. It should be weak enough for capture now, all he needed to do was uncap his thermos and… oh crap…

Hunters eyes widened, the realization that he hadn't given Phantom any means of capturing the slime ghost hitting him over the back of the head. He looked down at the girl in his lap, who had stopped burying her face in his chest and had been watching the fight with interest for a while now.

He backed up a little on the backseat and swung his legs over, getting to his feet. As soon as she noticed he was leaving she cried out and grasped his coat again. Hunter winced and pried her off, knelt down to her level and looked into her scared eyes, summing up his best attempt at a "fatherly voice."

"Listen, I need to go help put that big bad ghost away, you'll be safe here I promise."

She nodded a little and the grip on his coat loosened a bit. Hunter pulled away slowly, keeping a close eye on her as he pulled a thermos from one of his bags. The cylinder was firm and metallic and just felt right in his hands.

With one last look back to make sure the little one stayed put, Hunter took off around the building. Black boots pounded on the pavement and drew the ghostly eyes of the monster and Phantom, a wild grin erupting on the latter's face as he spotted the thermos in his hand.

Hunter lifted his gun and fired a few shots, buying the time it would take him to get into throwing distance. The pistol blasts that wouldn't have even bothered the monster in his full form were now enough to have it reeling back in pain.

Hunter's eyes met Danny's and he swung his arm down and up, throwing an underhanded pass to the ghost who dropped down in the air to catch it.

"Uncap the lid, point and press the button to shoot!" Hunter yelled over the sound of his discharging weapon and the howls of pain from his wounded target, clutching the butt of his weapon in both hands now.

"I know!" Danny called back before his brain could kick in and remind him that he really shouldn't know.

Hunter shot him a look and he cringed a little on the inside. Luckily his ass was saved a second later when Hunter's distraction resulted in him not seeing a large glob of excess slime flying towards him until it whacked him over the head, knocking him to the pavement in a pile of sticky green guck.

Taking back to the air quickly, Danny uncapped the thermos, a small part of his brain noting how this one felt heavier than the kind he used to. Hunter must have added something to his. He would have had to, seeing as the ones in his timeline only worked after he introduced his own ghost energy as a power source and got it to work for the first time.

The cap came off in his hand and a swirling tornado of white energy erupted form Danny's hands. With a sickly sound it began to suck up the glowing goo shell around the monster, syphoning it away like water down a drain.

Danny spotted Hunter attempting to free himself from the blob of goo that was clinging to the fabric of his coat. With a slight grin, Danny turned the thermos on him for a moment, waiting until all the slime was sucked up before capping the thing and sealing the goo monster inside.

Blue eyes glared at him and Danny had to stifle a giggle. Apparently using a Fenton Thermos on a perfectly normal human had the side effect of making their hair stand completely on end. Hunter attempted to straighten it out, but when a few pats with his hands didn't help he decided to give up.

Danny grinned and tossed the human the thermos, returning to the ground with a light tap as his boots hit the blissfully still pavement.

"Hey, at least you're clean now. Ectoplasm can stain even black clothes you know. You wouldn't believe how many times I've needed to get my suit—"

A loud clang interrupted Danny's little rant, not that Hunter had been listening to the ghost boy's ramblings anyway. The bottom half of the Fenton Thermos had collided with the ground after being ejected from the main unit. The ghost that had been inside was now confined to the little slab of metal, leaving the thermos free up for a second capture. Useful when dealing with multiple powerful targets without giving them the chance to team up from inside and break the capture unit.

The design had won him an award for ghost hunting innovation at last year's national Ghost Hunter's conference. Not that Phantom would ever know any of that though. He had approximately three seconds of freedom left.

Shoulders squared, wordless and purposeful, Hunter pointed the thermos at the ghost boy. Knowing he had him this time, knowing he could have him. Green glowing eyes widened in a look of shock, maybe betrayal. Likely he thought they were friends now that they had fought together, or at least assumed Hunter trusted him in some way. That was just like Phantom, innocent, trusting…

A flash of doubt in his mind and his finger hovered over the button, one second of hesitation.

But sometimes that's the difference between a successful hunt and miserable failure.

A high pithed scream filled the air, barley registered in Hunter's mind before a four foot tall demon landed on his back. "No! Don't don't don't don't! He's a nice ghost! He saved us!"

Hunter gasped and dropped the thermos. He wrenched the thing off his back with both hands, her little fingers slipping from where they had dug into the back of his coat.

She landed with a bump, and glared up at Hunter. He turned to the place Phantom had been seconds ago, but he was already gone. His eyes caught a black flicker as Phantom turned the corner.

For a moment he felt the urge to grab his bike and give chase, but he knew the effort would be useless, just another wild goose chase before Phantom vanished into thin air.

Fuck…

The little bitch was smiling at him smugly. If only she knew what kind of creature she had just let loose, just because she thought he was a "Good ghost."

"Come on, let's see if we can't find your parents," he grumbled, walking back to the ally to retrieve his sports bike.

Description
Chapter 4: A Temporary Truce

Danny Fenton, codename "Hunter," leaned against the handle bars of his bike, his body slumped backwards on the leather seat as he relaxed in the afternoon sunshine. His trench coat hung from one of the handlebars, discarded in the wake of warm weather. The screen belonging to the satellite ghost tracker in the dashboard flashed, the words 'unable to locate target' written in block green letters across the map of the United States.

Hunter wasn't watching the screen though. He preferred to work things out himself, with good old pen and paper—or in this case, a map and a sharpie.

The map was held open to display the same area of the US as the screen, but this version had a series of pen marks, mostly scattered around the major highways and leading north from Wisconsin to Minnesota. There were thirty in total. The black marks were for the locations where a white haired ghost boy in a black jumpsuit had been spotted. The red ones were for encounters Hunter had had with Phantom himself.

Out of the thirty, twelve were red.

Twelve times their paths had crossed and twelve times the teenager had slipped through his fingers. It was unlike anything Hunter had experienced before. Ghosts were many things, but subtle was not one of them. Yet every time he managed to corner Phantom, the ghost would phase through a wall or fly around a corner and then vanish without a trace.

Despite his title, Hunter wasn't much of a hunter. It was not a skill he had ever needed to practice. His first encounter with a ghost would almost always be the last and if not he would at least get a lock on the unique ecto signature, allowing him to pinpoint a ghost's location with perfect accuracy.

Sure there were still ghosts out there who he knew of that had not been captured, but none that he was actively pursuing. The longest any ghost had survived after Hunter turned his full attention to it had been a measly thirty six hours, but at this moment the green-eyed teen was pushing a full week.

Hunter was inclined to blame the tracking system for his continued failure to detain Phantom. Ever since he had woken up after his fist battle with the ghost boy it had been on the frits. For long periods of time it would insist that Phantom's ecto-signature was nowhere to be found then, seemingly at random, it would beep wildly and lock in on its target.

If Hunter took to the road quickly after the alert, he would find Phantom, often flying at full speed along the side of the highway.

The events after that moment had played out so often that it almost felt like routine now. Hunter would attack and Phantom would retaliate, both unable to use full power while also maintaining chase speed. And while Hunter's ability to aim while steering improved greatly as a result, nothing else ever came of these little encounters.

Eventually the two of them would reach a populated area, a rest stop or a small town or maybe even a proper city, forcing Hunter to holster his weapon in order to avoid any casualties getting caught in the crossfire.

The ghost boy would then take this moment to make his escape. Through invisibility, intangibility or pure ghostly speed, Phantom would break Hunter's line of sight and utterly vanish in the blink of an eye. Right after that the tracking system would lose the signal again. Further scans would show a trail of residual ecto-energy, but no signs of life besides the bustling of fellow humans going about their day.

Hunter found this phenomenon to be both utterly fascinating and completely infuriating. The only explanation he could come up with was that Phantom had found a way to hide his ghostly energy.

It seemed the most likely explanation, but he had never seen any spirit capable of completely hiding itself. Even those that overshadowed humans couldn't keep every bit of their energy contained within living flesh. Humans and ghosts were just too biologically incompatible.

Hunter traced his finger along the rough line of marks that indicated the path Phantom was taking. His thoughts buzzing as he asked himself one of many questions that had begun to plague him over this past week, "Where are you going?"

The deserted parking lot outside Flanagan's roadside diner didn't seem to have an answer for him, but voicing the question out loud did a little to clear his mind.

Hunter folded the map and tucked into a small pocket in the back cover of a black notebook, pinning it with a paper clip so it wouldn't fall out before he started flipping through the pages. About half the book was filled already, its pages covered with rough sketches and detailed, well-organized notes.

Almost every notable ghost he had faced had its place somewhere in the book. He recorded their names, details about their powers and what attacks they favored, how well they seemed to mimic human emotions, what personality traits were expressed, and, most importantly, details on each ghost's unique obsession and guesses about who they were in their past life on earth.

Hunter had started making the book soon after his first successful hunt. After returning to Vlad with his catch, Vlad had shooed the then 17 year old boy up to his bedroom so he could begin the process of freeing the spirit from its obsession and allowing what remained of the soul to find peace.

It sounded nice, the theory, but Uncle Vladdy had assured his young charge that the process he needed to use was anything but. That's why the youngest Fenton had never been allowed into the lab to see it, even after his eighteenth birthday. Vlad seemed adamant that observing might negatively affect Hunter's confidence in battle, and Hunter had to agree. He knew that if his guilt caused him to hesitate in the heat of battle, even for a moment, it might cost innocent lives.

However, Hunter did know enough about the process to realize that after he handed a full thermos over to Vlad, the ghost inside would never be seen again.

It was soon after that Danny had found himself in an office supply shop, his second full thermos slung over his shoulder. He had picked out an ordinary, leather-bound journal and written the first page under the bright light of the moon, adding a quick drawing from memory before he began the long trek back home.

Two years later, the book functioned as research notes, memorials for those he had hunted, a journal and strategy guide. The information held within would be invaluable to any researcher of ghosts, but to Hunter it was even more than that. He wouldn't have called it his prized possession, but it certainly was one of the only things on the planet he would never part with.

Hunter eventually found the page he was looking for. He ran a finger over his own neat handwriting, smiling a little to himself as he reflected that if he had kept notes like this in school he probably wouldn't have had a C average.

A pencil sketch gazed up at him from the opposite page, and even though the drawing was in black and white, Hunter could see those wide defiant green eyes gazing back at him. Daring. Mocking. Self-assured. Reminding Hunter that out of all the ghosts in the journal, he was the only one who still had his freedom.

Out of a combination of boredom and frustration, Hunter began to reread his notes. Vague hope that perhaps some of the pieces would fall into place if he kept thinking. It was preferable to sitting there like a duck, waiting for Phantom to show himself again.

He flipped to the first page and began reading from the beginning…

High-Profile Target #37: The Ghost Boy (AKA Phantom)

Target 37 was first encountered thirty miles out fromMadison Wisconsin, where he had been seeking refuge amongst other ghosts. Initially, I assumed he must have made an alliance with them, but later events showed their loyalty to him was negligible.

After successful detainment, I decided that in the interest of further study it was worth having a rematch with him in a controlled environment. Initial progress seemed successful, but through a lapse of judgment he escaped. As of June 15th he is still at large.

Hunter flipped to the next page. The general overview notes were the least interesting part of his make-shift case files. They were good for getting a quick overview, though, and were also vague enough to allow him to hand them over to the Feds if they wished for a written report on his activities when reviewing his Ghost Hunter's License.

Subject Name: Unknown, later referred to himself as Phantom. However, I'm hard pressed to believe this is anything more than apseudonym. The capital letter D on his chest and his nervousness when relating his name would indicate that he is either lying or unable to remember his name from a past life.

Physical appearance: Remarkably humanlike, to levels that I have not encountered before. He appears to be a male, aged about 16 to 17 years, although I would lean towards the younger side of the scale.

Unlike many ghosts, he still retains human pupils and irises, electric green in color and with a tendency to produce their own ghostly light. Similarly, his hair (an uncanny silvery white in color) is made of individual strands that look soft and bouncy. If I am given the opportunity, a brief stroke of those locks could provide valuable information about how ghost's form their bodies.

Hunter winced. He usually attempted to keep his notes professional, but sometimes his analysis gave way to his inner musings, especially when he was dealing with ghosts that drew special interest.

Still, at least in the text it sounded like he was just curious about body structure, and while it was true that it would be interesting to find out…Hunter had a feeling that if, no, when he managed to recapture Phantom, his thoughts would be far from scientific study when he ran his fingers through the boy's silky white hair.

Clothing and personal accessories consist only of a skintight black suit covering everything from the neck downwards. While the aesthetics of the outfit are a little questionable, there is no doubt that it's functional. He uses this to his advantage; given the abnormal flexibility of ghosts, the suit allows him to have complete freedom of movement.

However, the suit also seems to have a tendency to rip under harsh conditions, to the point where one could easily measure the ferocity of a battle by how intact it is. Interestingly enough, it even rips in a manner similar to real clothing, despite the fact it is clearly made of ecto-energy (as evidenced by the fact it heals along with cuts and bruises). Ghosts normally don't have the will or the power to give their clothes the properties of real world material.

Hunter could still vividly remember the sound as his knife tore through the material covering Phantom's chest, the sound alone doubling the intensity of the moment. At the time the move had been needed to force Phantom off after the ghost had come dangerously close to snatching his protective amulet, but then not a day later, the suit and his skin were smooth and untarnished.

Since Hunter severely doubted that Phantom had time to stop by a tailor to get it fixed, this development might prove his theory that ghost clothing was an extension of themselves that healed in a similar manner to skin.

Most ghost hunters assumed that it was simply fabric from another world, but if he could get a sample to analyze, he might just prove them wrong.

Powers and abilities: Considerable fighter in both hand-to-hand and long-range combat. Has a full complement of ghostly powers including a large number of special abilities. Phantom has mastered Duplication, Spectral Body Manipulation, and Cryokinesis (ice manipulation). I also suspect that he may be able to transform, changing his appearance at will. It would account for his uncanny ability to elude detection.

Phantom also seems to have complete control over his own power supplies, twisting ecto-energy to his will and using it in ways I have never seen before. Over my week of observation, I have seen it used from manipulating objects to forming solid ropes and bounds (which are surprisingly difficult to escape from).

Last but not least, he had one special power. I have been unable to identify it since its use resulted in almost instantaneous unconsciousness. From what I can tell it must be a power blast of some sort, but one not leaving any trace besides flattened grass and bent trees. I am not certain a civilian could survive it, leaving a very real possibility that Phantom could commit mass murder at will.

Luckily he seems only able to use it under extreme stress, much like a trapped animal making a desperate bid for freedom. In light of this fact I've decided that cornering be avoided before capture. The faster you can contain Phantom, the less chance he will have to be able to unleash this power.

Hunter nodded to himself, suddenly aware of the dark purple bruises that he had gotten either form the fight or from the blast. It was at times like these that he envied the healing abilities ghosts seemed to possess.

The paragraph did more than just remind Hunter of his injuries though. It also painted a clear picture of the kind of ghost he was up against. To put it bluntly, he was certain that if Phantom wished, the ghost could level a whole city on his own before he could be stopped.

The mere thought made Hunter sick, especially knowing that his failure had directly led to Phantom's continued freedom. Any damage the ghost managed to do would be on his shoulders. All it would take was one mood change, and then when the dust settled there would be nothing to do but bury the dead and try to console the survivors.

Whenever he thought about it like that, Hunter felt an old familiar rage building inside of him, a fiery unrestricting hatred that had been burned into his soul at the tender age of fourteen.

But Hunter was not a vengeful teen anymore. He was a grown man and one who had learned from experience to control his emotions and think logically. In this case, all Hunter had to do was remember that although Phantom was capable of such violence, he had never once seen an instance where he used his powers for that end unless he was provoked, usually by Hunter himself.

Of all the bizarre observations he had made on Phantom, that was by far the strangest thing about the ghost teen. Running, hiding, avoiding conflict, these were seen as acts of cowardice in ghost culture and for a ghost of Phantom's power level it was completely unheard of. Even when he lost Phantom in those populated areas, the news report the next day never had anything about a rise in crime or any other paranormal disturbances.

History clearly showed that unchecked high-level ecto-manifestations left trails of destruction in their wake, but Phantom passed with barely a whisper. The only exclamation Hunter could use to justify this behaviour was that the ghost must have some form of reverence for human life.

It was hard to even admit that thought to himself, though, as it went against everything modern science believed about ghosts. Ghosts do to not feel empathy, they don't see reason, and if they can destroy something they will. The powerful dominate the weak, and that's what the humans were to them; weak creatures to be used or removed, depending on the ghosts in question.

Hunter had only managed to gain what respect he had from a long reign of terror and through many acts of what the ghosts must have perceived as murder… but that was the way it worked, the only thing that could stop a ghost from wreaking havoc was fear.

That's why he was a ghost hunter, that was why there were ghost hunters. A force of mildly organized tough guys meant to instill fear. Though crude it had managed to uphold a shaky peace between humans and ghosts since the first ghost vs. human conflict, respectfully named 'The Battle of Amity Park'.

Hunter's eyes closed tightly. He hated all this deep thinking, it was much easier for him to just hate ghosts than it was to understand, but the natural inquisitiveness passed on from of his two scientist parents refused to let him remain ignorant.

If ghosts could be reasoned with and some form of truce could be worked out…it might put an end to the random attacks and the veil of fear that humanity had been living under since they realized they were not the most powerful beings anymore.

'No,' Hunter reminded himself firmly, 'ghost are not like that, you've seen it…You've lived it…They don't feel empathy. Phantom is simply an anomaly, a glitch in the order. He's probably the only one of his kind…" Then a new thought surfaced, 'And I'm going to find out why.' Hunter took a deep breath, suddenly realizing he had forgotten he was even holding his notebook, his fingers clutching the book a little too tightly.

Hunter loosened his grip gingerly, leaning back against his bike again. This waiting around was really starting to get to him.

He turned his attention back to the pages, only to remember that the last section of Phantom's case file was a complete mess. The space was meant for his personal notes on a ghost but instead it was filled only with erased pencil marks, crossed out sentences and half-legible scribbles.

Hunter shut the book with a snap, sat up on his bike and tucked it away again—only to pull it out a second later, flipping to the very back of the book.

Those pages held a few more sketches, but Hunter's eye was only drawn to the one sitting in the middle of the page. It was of Phantom, pressed up against the bark of the tree Hunter had pinned him against, the top half if his suit torn open like it had been…but there the similarities to real life faded and fantasy took over.

Phantom was on his knees, his green eyes defiant but his quivering lips betraying the fear he was feeling. A hand from somewhere outside the area of the drawing was laced into his short hair, forcing him to keep his eyes up. In response Phantom had grabbed the front of the coat belonging to a man that was only hinted at in the drawing itself.

Underneath it was an even more incriminating sketch, Phantom lying on his back, spread out over a collection of soft-looking pillows, his suit not torn but unzipped in a manner that showed off that same stretch of lightly muscled chest. A dark blush was spread across both his cheeks, but it didn't seem he was quite embarrassed enough to change his lascivious posture. The drawing captured him in the middle of a beckoning motion, tempting the viewer to come join him.

Those were just the most detailed of the sketches however. Smaller scribbles of Phantom littered the next few pages. Running jumping, kicking, charging an ecto-blast and flying… there was even one of him resting peacefully with his eyes closed, captured from a memory of finding the ghost lying in the grass as he took a break from his little cross-country trip.

Hunter closed the notebook, suddenly feeling like he needed some fresh air. He packed it away again, throwing his coat over his shoulders and flipping the ignition on his bike. It roared into life under him and in less than a minute he had pulled back onto the highway, picking his direction at random before joining the rush of traffic.

Wind whipped through Hunter's short black locks, the fast motion of the bike and the role of the pavement as it disappeared behind him was inherently relaxing and it did a lot to calm his frayed nerves. After about five miles he finally allowed himself to drift back into his thoughts.

'All right, Fenton, time to face facts…You're completely head over heels for that damn ghost kid…'

Admitting it to himself was more of a relief than anything, but just like admitting you have a problem, that was only the first step to solving it.

He was conflicted, but not for the reason most would think, because lucky for Hunter he was long passed the confusion about being attracted to members of the undead. In fact if you managed to get your hands on his little notebook (unlikely given he would rather kill you than part with it) you would find similar pictures to those of Phantom but featuring any number of other ghosts, a small portion of which Hunter had the pleasure of getting to know very intimately…for a short time anyway…

While Hunter's taste in lovers was a taboo to be sure, it was also not an uncommon occurrence among his fellow ghost hunters. After all, they were the only ones able to gain the respect needed to be considered anything more than prey.

Of course these interspecies liaisons could never last...but the rush for just that one night made it worth it. Hunter had even worked out a system for himself detailing how to approach ghosts that caught his eye…the problem now was that Phantom was failing his criteria.

Phantom's power made him both irresistible and a risk that Hunter could not afford to take, because the bargaining chip the blue-eyed male used in order to entice a sprit into taking his offer of intimacy, was their freedom. (Or as Ember has so crudely put it, "If I fuck you, you'll let me go?")

Sadly, freedom was something that Phantom, however placid he may seem, could never have. You don't put a nuclear bomb next to a playground even if you're sure it's disarmed, and the same could be said for the ghost kid.

Of course even with strong sentiments like that Hunter still had doubts, and throwing a ton of perverse sexual lust into his already mixed feelings just made everything worse.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Ecto-signature location success, calculating fastest route.

Hunter snapped to attention, his heart rate quickening as the realization that the hunt was on again. He took his eyes off the road for a bare second to check the screen, a traffic violation yes, but at nineteen he was still too young and reckless to care.

Phantom was a hundred miles away tops, which was not outside the norm. He never seemed to get far while remaining undetected. With a pleased grin, Hunter also noted he was already going in the right direction.

"Keep straight for 40 miles," the GPS chirped, a little redundantly. Hunter muted the thing and leaned forward on his bike, speeding up considerably. Today might be a good day to see if he could top his high score for miles per hour on a freeway…

But just as Hunter was about to slam down the gas a second alarm went off on his dash. It had its own special tone so that Hunter would recognise it, and over the years he had begun to hate that sound.

It was the universal ghost distress signal, every town or city in the states had one. Since they didn't have enough anti-ghost military forces to station in every city, they set up a system that would call any nearby ghost hunters as well as military backup at a push of a button.

With a growing sense of dread, Hunter checked the GPS display, only to find his fears confirmed. Phantom's location and the source of the single were overlapping. The town would have only triggered the alarm if they were under serious attack, so this could only mean one thing. Phantom had finely snapped.

Hunter gripped the handlebars of his bike tightly, trying to suppress the urge to punch the screen. He felt betrayed, but that didn't make any sense since he hadn't trusted Phantom to begin with.

Hunter took a deep breath, resolving that he could work out his issues once he stopped Phantom…because right now, every life the ghost took was on his shoulders.

Make no mistake, though, when he got there Phantom would pay tenfold for every ounce of blood he spilled…

_________________________________________________________________________

Danny needed to act fast before this monster managed to kill anyone.

This town was well-equipped to deal with ghosts, much like all the others he had found in this world, but sadly, their defences were only limited to dispelling smaller ghosts.

In theory that made sense, since this city wasn't populated enough to warrant a serious attack. Of course that was assuming ghosts cared what they attacked. To be fair, many did have the power of reasoning to accomplish this, but others only had enough brain power to step on anything they didn't like, and at the moment, the thirty-foot-tall brute lumbering his way down Main Street seemed to be a member of the latter category.

Danny flew hot on the monster's heels, blasting away at the vaguely human-shaped blob of green ectoplasm. It barley seemed to register his shots though, shrugging them off like they were taps on the shoulder.

The creature reached down and grabbed a mailbox, crushing it between its large fingers and leaving nothing but a crumpled husk. Danny swallowed, not wanting to think about what that would look like if it grabbed some poor human.

He upped his power on the shots, concentrating a blast in both hands before he hurled it at the center of the ghost's back.

This time the galoot howled in rage and lashed out behind it. Danny swerved, avoiding the stubby arm that tried to swat him out the air like a pesky fly. Two large red eyes focused on the little ghost boy. Danny quickly began to charge another blast, but the other ghost was faster. Danny gasped and dropped his concentration as a fully loaded minivan came within five inches of his unkempt white hair. He stumbled back in the air, watching in shock as the car crashed to the ground, giving the galoot behind him just enough time to throw a follow up.

Lucky for Danny the only other car within reaching distance was a compact. Still hurt like hell though.

'Damn it…I know I've said it before, but I really, really, need to start playing more attention…'

With a groan of effort, Danny heaved the chunk of twisted steel and hubcaps off, ignoring the perfectly shaped Danny-sized hole in the concrete as he launched back into the air.

It seemed that the bigger ghost had already forgotten about him though. It was probably used to things going away after it threw cars at them. Danny followed it to the street corner where it was standing next to an apartment building, its own height making it about on eye level with the third floor.

It lifted its fist and slammed it into the concrete. Danny rushed forward, afraid he was going to take the whole building down, but the crumbling wall only opened into a single frilly pink bedroom, a rain of concrete and stuffed toys hitting the streets as the hand pulled back.

A high-pitched scream filled the air and then Danny saw her, a little girl likely no more than five or six clutched in the grubby fingers of the gigantic ghost. It was oddly reminiscent of a Japanese monster flick, but Danny wasn't exactly in a state of mind to enjoy the coincidence.

The ecto-blast Danny had been charging died again. He needed to get the little one away from the ghost. He couldn't risk going all out on it and hurting her. He needed to come up with a new strategy, and fast.

"Hey, Puke-Zilla!" Danny yelled, flying forward and circling around so he was about a foot from the ghost's gigantic face. "Think fast!" Danny drew back and punched it in its bulbous red eye.

The creature stumbled back and Danny went for his hand, wrapping his arms around the girl's torso and trying to turn her intangible. The power spread from Danny to her and she was just coming loose—

SMACK

The back of the other hand hit Danny and he was sent flying backwards through the air, tumbling head over heels until he came skidding to a halt on the pavement, his head smacking against a tire of a black sports bike.

Black sports bike…

"Oh you have got to be FUCKING kidding me!"

A second later and the barrel of a gun shoved against Danny's face, Hunter's bright blue eyes staring upside down at him from his seat on the bike. The sole of his boot came down on Danny's chest and he reflexively grabbed the ankle, pushing against him. Danny saw Hunter's finger tighten around the trigger, and his green eyes snapped shut.

"Are you trying to save that girl?"

Danny flinched, but when he realized he was still okay, he reopened one eye. Hunter was looking up at the gigantic ghost not a hundred feet down the street. It had started shaking the little girl in his grasp like a baby would with a toy.

Danny noticed the tone of urgency in Hunter's voice and he quickly snapped out of it. "Trying is kinda the keyword there, but yes, I am."

Hunter sighed audibly, and if the ghost boy didn't know better he would have thought he looked disappointed. The boot on Danny's chest lifted and suddenly the ghost hunter was all business.

"Take this," he said and took a small hand-grenade-shaped object from some kind of hidden compartment on his bike, pushing it into Danny's gloved hands. "There's a five second delay once you pull the pin. After that it emits a pulse of anti-ectoplasm that will cripple a ghost but leave humans unharmed."

In his head, Danny added that the weapon could cripple him as well. Handling the weapon with the upmost care he got to his feet, his eyes still focused on Hunter, more than a little confused by this strange turn of events.

"I'll run interference while you get a good shot. Throw it at him, get out of the way, and make sure you're ready to catch her. I've seen how fast you can fly, you should be able to do it."

Danny blinked. Was that a compliment?

Hunter kick-started his bike again and began tearing down the street at a breakneck pace. Danny followed suit, taking to the air and catching up within a matter of seconds, still a little confused to why he wasn't locked inside a Fenton Thermos.

Then it dawned on him, Hunter must believe that personal vendettas came last when lives were on the line. It was a principal that he had exercised many times himself and it had landed Danny with many unexpected battle-mates.

Maybe they were more alike than the ghost boy had assumed, even if Hunter was still a complete jerk and more than a little creepy. Especially when he had that dark look in his eyes that never failed to make Danny feel uncomfortable. Still, jerk or not, he wasn't going to say no to a little help. Not that he couldn't have handled it on his own, this just made it easier.

The sound of tires screeching across the pavement echoed across the empty street, the ear-splitting sound grabbing the attention of the green blob monster. Red eyes fixated on the little human and the ghost stretched out its other hand to grab Hunter.

Hunter pulled out his gun again and shot the thing in the middle of its hand without even blinking an eye. A loud bang and a rain of mushy ecto-goop showered the street, totally ruining the fount porch of a flower shop.

The monster howled in pain and pulled back its arm which now ended in a flat stump. It paused for a moment summoning up more of his goopy form to replace the appendage. With a thunderous growl of rage it flexed its fingers and this time made to crush the insolent human, but Hunter pulled up his feet and hit the gas. He and his bike were long gone by the time the fist impacted the ground, leaving a large crater.

"Please, I've seen snails move faster than that!" Hunter called from his new position behind the creature. He leaned on the handle bars and faked a yawn. "You gonna move this along or should I just take a nap?"

It was at this point that Danny finally caught up to the ghost hunter. He would have been there faster but he needed the slow pace so he would not be noticed by the monster.

The creature rounded on Hunter, lumbering towards him with footfalls that shook the whole street. Danny twisted in the air and appeared behind its shoulder. Hunter looked up at him, nodded, and Danny pulled the pin on the little weapon he had been given. Hoping to hell that Hunter hadn't been lying about what it did, he sunk it into the monster's shoulder with a ghastly squelching sound and turned tail, promptly getting the fuck out of there.

Exactly five seconds later a flash of blue energy enveloped the beast, a perfectly shaped sphere of impact zone that came within inches of Danny's boots.

A sound like a freight train impacting a cow filled the air as the monster screamed in pain. Danny decided he didn't want to ever know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of this particular weapon.

The flash was gone as soon as it appeared and a second scream, this time from the little girl, reached Danny's ears.

In its convulsions, the monster had thrown the girl and she was currently hurtling through the air in a manner that was completely and utterly unsafe for a girl her age…or for anyone who couldn't fly for that matter.

Danny shot forward at top speed, his hero instincts kicking in with a vengeance. Eyes narrowed along with his focus, he threw everything he had into his velocity .

He reached her with plenty of time to spare, his arms wrapping around her middle, practically plucking her out of the air. He kept the momentum going just long enough to slow the two of them to a gentle stop.

They hung in the air for a moment, before the little one finally opened her eyes. She twisted in his arms and Danny gave her his best reassuring smile. She took one look at him, noticed his ghostly aura, the floating, and screamed again in his ear.

"Get away from me, ghost, get away, get away, get away!" she hollered, kicking and lashing out with her tiny fists. It was all Danny could do not drop her. He tightened his grip and gritted his teeth, looking for a safe place to put her.

Her screaming was drowned out a second later as the monster that she had just been saved from howled and turned to face the floating pair. Danny's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when he saw that half the creature's face had melted. Given that it was a slime monster anyway the effect wasn't too gruesome, but it still looked unsettling enough to put the girl's cries to a sudden and abrupt end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Hunter taking aim at the staggered glop monster. He knew what he had to do.

He rushed the human and dropped the girl right in Hunter's lap. The gun he had been holding crashed to the pavement with a clang and Hunter glanced down. As soon as the girl saw that he was human, she grabbed him tightly, clinging to the front of his trench coat.

"Watch her," Danny ordered, staring at Hunter with his best serious face.

The blue-eyed male looked from the girl to the ghost, raising an eyebrow, "Do I look like a babysitter?"

Danny huffed and crossed his arms. "No, but she's scared of me, and I can't protect her if I have to worry about getting kicked in the face!"

The earth suddenly jumped under both male's feet, reminding them of the deadly monster just a hundred feet away.

"I'll fight him off, just keep her safe okay?" Danny insisted, taking to the air but still keeping close. He needed to hear Hunter give his word.

Hunter sighed deeply and nodded, and like a bolt of lightning Danny was gone. Hunter crossed an arm around the girl's back, kicking his bike back into life. For the first time in his ghost hunting career, he retreated to a safe distance and allowed someone else to do the work for him.

With some debating, he settled on a position just inside a nearby alleyway, sheltered from any large objects that could be thrown. One arm stayed around the girl's back, protecting the back of her head, while the other found the gun holster stored under his front tire and retrieved his backup pistol.

Feeling a lot less vulnerable now that he was armed again, Hunter turned his attention to the battle raging in the four way intersection, his eyes doing their best to follow the ghost boy as he flipped, jumped and blasted with a skill that would have made an Olympic acrobat green with envy.

It seemed Phantom had figured out that he had the advantage of speed and agility over the lumbering powerhouse and was chasing himself around the monster in circles. He never stayed long enough to give the creature time to even think about counterattacking before he was in a new position, firing wave after wave of ecto-beams into his opponent.

Hunter's grip tensed around his gun, caught between wanting to fight by the ghost's side and his unwillingness to abandon the little one clinging to him.

While he had no doubts the ghost boy could take down the green slime beast, the principal of leaving the fate of a city to a ghost wasn't sitting well with Hunter. He was used to them being the enemy, used to the hate and the fear. Every last bit of his instincts were yelling at him to attack them both before they had a chance to team up and turn on him.

Yet here he was, ignoring his instincts and hiding in a hole like a scared mouse.

How had one little phantom changed him so much?

Back in the heat of battle, Danny dogged another flying stop sign and was coming back around for another attack. Green light shot from his open palms in a continuous blast of d energy, burning away the protective layers of slime bit by bit. Slowly but surely, in much the same way a bear could be stung to death by bees, he was overpowering the much larger ghost.

The beast had shrunk to half its original size, and the crater of destruction around it had diminished accordingly. Danny charged his next blast with both hands, aiming for the chest. Another sick splat and he had to turn intangible to avoid being coated in the sticky mess that splattered a row of buildings. He did not envy whoever had to clean this up.

It was almost time to put the lid on this baddie. It should be weak enough for capture now, all he needed to do was uncap his thermos and… oh crap…

Hunters eyes widened, the realization that he hadn't given Phantom any means of capturing the slime ghost hitting him over the back of the head. He looked down at the girl in his lap, who had stopped burying her face in his chest and had been watching the fight with interest for a while now.

He backed up a little on the backseat and swung his legs over, getting to his feet. As soon as she noticed he was leaving she cried out and grasped his coat again. Hunter winced and pried her off, knelt down to her level and looked into her scared eyes, summing up his best attempt at a "fatherly voice."

"Listen, I need to go help put that big bad ghost away, you'll be safe here I promise."

She nodded a little and the grip on his coat loosened a bit. Hunter pulled away slowly, keeping a close eye on her as he pulled a thermos from one of his bags. The cylinder was firm and metallic and just felt right in his hands.

With one last look back to make sure the little one stayed put, Hunter took off around the building. Black boots pounded on the pavement and drew the ghostly eyes of the monster and Phantom, a wild grin erupting on the latter's face as he spotted the thermos in his hand.

Hunter lifted his gun and fired a few shots, buying the time it would take him to get into throwing distance. The pistol blasts that wouldn't have even bothered the monster in his full form were now enough to have it reeling back in pain.

Hunter's eyes met Danny's and he swung his arm down and up, throwing an underhanded pass to the ghost who dropped down in the air to catch it.

"Uncap the lid, point and press the button to shoot!" Hunter yelled over the sound of his discharging weapon and the howls of pain from his wounded target, clutching the butt of his weapon in both hands now.

"I know!" Danny called back before his brain could kick in and remind him that he really shouldn't know.

Hunter shot him a look and he cringed a little on the inside. Luckily his ass was saved a second later when Hunter's distraction resulted in him not seeing a large glob of excess slime flying towards him until it whacked him over the head, knocking him to the pavement in a pile of sticky green guck.

Taking back to the air quickly, Danny uncapped the thermos, a small part of his brain noting how this one felt heavier than the kind he used to. Hunter must have added something to his. He would have had to, seeing as the ones in his timeline only worked after he introduced his own ghost energy as a power source and got it to work for the first time.

The cap came off in his hand and a swirling tornado of white energy erupted form Danny's hands. With a sickly sound it began to suck up the glowing goo shell around the monster, syphoning it away like water down a drain.

Danny spotted Hunter attempting to free himself from the blob of goo that was clinging to the fabric of his coat. With a slight grin, Danny turned the thermos on him for a moment, waiting until all the slime was sucked up before capping the thing and sealing the goo monster inside.

Blue eyes glared at him and Danny had to stifle a giggle. Apparently using a Fenton Thermos on a perfectly normal human had the side effect of making their hair stand completely on end. Hunter attempted to straighten it out, but when a few pats with his hands didn't help he decided to give up.

Danny grinned and tossed the human the thermos, returning to the ground with a light tap as his boots hit the blissfully still pavement.

"Hey, at least you're clean now. Ectoplasm can stain even black clothes you know. You wouldn't believe how many times I've needed to get my suit—"

A loud clang interrupted Danny's little rant, not that Hunter had been listening to the ghost boy's ramblings anyway. The bottom half of the Fenton Thermos had collided with the ground after being ejected from the main unit. The ghost that had been inside was now confined to the little slab of metal, leaving the thermos free up for a second capture. Useful when dealing with multiple powerful targets without giving them the chance to team up from inside and break the capture unit.

The design had won him an award for ghost hunting innovation at last year's national Ghost Hunter's conference. Not that Phantom would ever know any of that though. He had approximately three seconds of freedom left.

Shoulders squared, wordless and purposeful, Hunter pointed the thermos at the ghost boy. Knowing he had him this time, knowing he could have him. Green glowing eyes widened in a look of shock, maybe betrayal. Likely he thought they were friends now that they had fought together, or at least assumed Hunter trusted him in some way. That was just like Phantom, innocent, trusting…

A flash of doubt in his mind and his finger hovered over the button, one second of hesitation.

But sometimes that's the difference between a successful hunt and miserable failure.

A high pithed scream filled the air, barley registered in Hunter's mind before a four foot tall demon landed on his back. "No! Don't don't don't don't! He's a nice ghost! He saved us!"

Hunter gasped and dropped the thermos. He wrenched the thing off his back with both hands, her little fingers slipping from where they had dug into the back of his coat.

She landed with a bump, and glared up at Hunter. He turned to the place Phantom had been seconds ago, but he was already gone. His eyes caught a black flicker as Phantom turned the corner.

For a moment he felt the urge to grab his bike and give chase, but he knew the effort would be useless, just another wild goose chase before Phantom vanished into thin air.

Fuck…

The little bitch was smiling at him smugly. If only she knew what kind of creature she had just let loose, just because she thought he was a "Good ghost."

"Come on, let's see if we can't find your parents," he grumbled, walking back to the ally to retrieve his sports bike.