Teen Titans - Daydream

"I absolutely refuse to give up on my Teen Titans stories! Especially the ones with my fan characters. I have other superhero stories that could easily use my characters, but I can't rip them from their universe of origin. They belong with the Teen Titans and I still love that series even after all these years.

Switching to prose yet again here. I still don't think this works as well as the script format, but I'm not giving up yet!

Oh, and I just realized that the window thing might actually be inaccurate, but I shall fact check that before this goes to DeviantArt." -Casey

Raven squinted against the sunlight that was pouring into her room as she woke up. She pulled the covers up over her face and sighed in annoyance. How had she forgotten to close the window like that? She didn’t even have a window in her room.

She sat up, throwing the blanket aside, and looked around the room in surprise. She wasn’t in her room back at Titans Tower. She was in an unfamiliar room that was decorated with rock posters and purple carpeting.

“Robin?” she called as she leapt out of bed. That’s when she noticed the long black nightdress she was wearing. What was going on?

“Starfire?” she called as she made her way to the only door and opened it cautiously. She walked down the hallway, past pictures of complete strangers, until it opened to a living room that looked as perfect as a picture from a magazine. There was a clanking noise from around the corner, but Raven didn’t sense anyone nearby. She slowly rounded the corner.

The woman in the kitchen turned to face her, her long purple hair falling over her lacy white blouse. She smiled wholesomely, which looked almost unnatural with her long face and narrow eyes. “Good morning, Raven,” she greeted happily.

“Arella?” the girl said breathlessly, staring in amazement at her mother.

“Who on Earth is Arella?” she asked as she turned back to the eggs she had been scrambling.

“You…you are,” Raven said hesitantly.

“Last I checked, my name was Angela,” the woman replied. “But I really prefer ‘Mom’ from my daughter.”

“You’re alive,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around the woman, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Raven? What’s the matter?” she asked as she put aside her cooking to hug the girl back.

“I thought you had perished with Azarath,” Raven explained.

“What are you talking about?” she insisted.

“I…I…You don’t remember?”

You’re not looking too well, sunshine,” her mother observed as she put her hand to her forehead. “Maybe you should stay home from school today.”

“Sunshine?” Raven asked skeptically with a raised eyebrow.

Arella (or Angela) smiled halfhearted at the teenager and shook her head. “There she is,” she joked, as if that settled the matter. “Now go get dressed. You’ll miss the bus if you don’t hurry.”

Raven stood in the kitchen and opened her mouth to say something, but she was at a loss for words. Angela scooped the scrambled eggs onto a couple of plates and placed them on the dining table. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked as she went to the refrigerator for some orange juice.

The last thing Raven wanted to do was sit down to a bizarre breakfast when nothing was making sense. She backed away towards the living room. “I’m going to go get dressed,” she excused herself. She rushed back to what she could only assume was supposed to be her bedroom and shut the door.

She cleared her mind as she strode to the center of the room and assumed her meditation position. She noticed for the first time that the gemstone on her forehead was missing, but she didn’t let it bother her. “Azarath, Metrion, Zinthose,” she began to chant, focusing on locating the other Titans. “Azarath, Metrion, Zinthose.” There was no sign of her friends or anything else for that matter. She couldn’t even sense Angela in the other room. Her telepathy wasn’t working and she wasn’t even levitating. Her powers weren’t working.

She jumped up and started digging through the vanity for her communicator or even her cloak. She didn’t have any luck and she was beginning to panic. She thought back to the last sane thing she could remember. They had fought off a few smalltime crooks, no one capable of causing this kind of delusion. After that they had gone back to the tower. Robin and Cyborg played video games while Beast Boy wrestled for one of the controllers. Starfire and their new recruit had been cooking dinner and realizing their mutual love for snails. The new recruit…Duplicate. Could he have something to do with this?

“Raven, do you need me to give you a ride to school?” her mother called.

“No!” she called back. “I’ll be fine.”

She shook her head with the effort of concentrating on what had happened the day before, but the last thing she could remember was falling asleep like she always did. Nothing out of the ordinary came to mind.

“Are you sure? The bus will be here any minute,” Angela called again.

Raven looked down at the rumpled clothes in the vanity and spotted what looked like a school uniform. She grabbed it and called back, “I’m almost ready!”

She had to get out of the house. She needed to figure out what was going on and her mother being alive in the kitchen making eggs was a distraction.

Raven had no idea where she was supposed to go as she walked the crowded halls of the school. She’d tried to sneak away three times already, but bus drivers and teachers had deterred her at every turn.

Robin! Cyborg! she screamed telepathically. Anybody! Beast Boy!

The other Titans had to be out of range, but perhaps she was going about this the wrong way. She hadn’t been able to sense any of the people around her, like her mother or fellow students, but maybe she could search for another presence. She opened up her mind and tried to reach out beyond the students around her to find someone else, anyone else.

“Mayday!” a voice called out suddenly.

Raven looked up just in time to see a giant stack of books before she slammed into them and the boy that had been carrying them. Books and papers scattered across the hall, nearly tripping a couple of inattentive teenagers. Raven reached out as she attempted to retrieve them telekinetically, but that power didn’t seem to be working either. Instead, the boy she had knocked over took her outstretched hand and helped her to her feet.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “I don’t move very fast when I’m doing five things at once.”

“Its fine,” Raven replied, noting that the pain meant that she wasn’t dreaming.

The boy began clearing up the books along with a couple of folders and putting them away in his locker selectively. Raven felt a twinge of guilt and began to help gather up the papers by hand.

“Stressing over the science exam today?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she replied, still distracted by her lack of powers.

She handed the papers to the boy and he took with a grateful smile, his load of books much lighter now. “Well, while I’m here, you need an escort to class?” he asked. “I can clear the path so you don’t have worry about any other overloaded bookworms.”

“How do you know which class I’m looking for?” she asked.

“Well, we have shared English for the whole semester,” he sighed. “I’m usually in the back hiding behind my hipster glasses.” With that, he pulled a pair of thick rimmed black glasses out from his pant pockets and placed them on his face while moving his eyebrows up and down comically.

“Your glasses don’t have any lenses,” she pointed out in annoyance.

“Yeah, but glasses are like the only thing that they don’t have a dress code against,” he complained as he started walking down the hallway. “You coming?”

Raven took a good look at the boy standing before her. His long blond hair stood up fairly high before it flopped down in his bright colored eyes and he smiled with his teeth far too much. He was nearly as obnoxious as Beast Boy. However, sitting quietly in a classroom might give her the space to think things out, at least until she could sneak away at lunch. Reluctantly she followed after him.

“My name’s Remy, by the way,” he announced as they walked.

“I’m Raven,” she replied, holding onto that thought. She was Raven, a real hero, and no amount of this ridiculous reality was going to convince her that the Teen Titans didn’t exist.

As they approached the classroom where English class was to be held, the door exploded outwards and slammed into the lockers on the far wall, barely missing one of the other students. As smoke poured through the remains of the entryway, a tall thin figure stepped out of the room and into the hall with a confident strut. As the smoke began to clear, the figure stopped and spun its cane around in the air before leaning against it in a showy manner.

“Well, hello, hello, hello, my duckies” the man greeted as he finally became visible through the smoke. “Care to help me out with a little discipline problem?”

Mad Mod, Raven thought as glared at the man. I should have known that he was behind this.

Teen Titans (C) Warner Brothers and Cartoon Network

REM and Story (C) SuperheroGeek13 

Which came first, the character or the plot?

There comes a point in every story that I’ve ever attempted to write where I start to complain about the personalities that I gave my characters. Mostly because my main characters tend to be very introverted, very content with life, and quite unmotivated to get involved in things that aren’t their business, which is not exactly a recipe for high adventure and heroics, is it?

Thus begins my rants about how I practically have to drag my characters back to the plot (i.e. the chain of events that they’re going to be a part of whether they like it or not). One has to strike a balance though, because you run the risk of turning your story into a side-scrolling video game where your characters are led straight through the adventure without much say in the matter.
On the other hand, if you let your characters run free in a huge over-world type of place, they might spend the entire adventure fishing, collecting rupees, and betting on dog races while the princess just sits in a dungeon waiting to be rescued. (Please pardon the video game derived examples.)
So how is one to find a balance between these characters and plots? Are there rules about giving each 50% or giving one more than the other? Am I doomed because I came up with my characters before a plot or vice versa? These are all questions in which I get very wrapped up.

The sad truth; if your characters aren’t doing anything AT ALL for your plot then maybe you shouldn’t have put them in your story in the first place.
Seriously, if you were out to write a story about daring feats and courageous adventures, you should have written a daring and courageous hero. If you didn’t want a reluctantly taken hardship that’ll require a lot growth by its end, you shouldn’t have made up a reluctant hero.
Basically, this is when I need to step back from the characters and the plot and look at the story as a whole. What is it about? Where is it going? Why are you even telling it?
Shouldn't people be able to say that your characters and plot mesh up well? If the story is meant to be funny, there are things that you can set up for that. A Funny Man and a Straight Man can lead to great hijinks. Or maybe even a couple of crazy kids with one very sane girl. The plot will only get nutty from there.

 "Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations. Plot is observed after the fact rather than before. It cannot precede action. It is the chart that remains when an action is through. That is all Plot ever should be. It is human desire let run, running, and reaching a goal. It cannot be mechanical. It can only be dynamic. So, stand aside, forget targets, let the characters, your fingers, body, blood, and heart do." -Ray Bradbury

How would you categorize this story if you had to do so? Do the different elements of the story match up with you definition? If not, then it might be time to take another look at your setup or maybe your definition.
You want heroics? Make your characters heroic! You want forward momentum? Move events along! And when in doubt, just see where the people and events in your story go when you’re not complaining about where they’re going.
In conclusion; characters and plots go hand in hand. Characters will make choices that move events along and events will move your characters along.
That’s my writing related rant for the day. Thanks for reading! TTYL.

Teen Titans - Colors

"The origin story for my OC Kenji, the son of Brushogun. I had hoped to finish this by the end of this month, but I only got about a third of the way through. At least you can see how it all starts out." -Casey

The sky was grey with the tick cover of rain clouds hanging over Tokyo. The streets were becoming streams and only people with galoshes and large umbrellas dared the weather. Just south of a local graveyard there was a humble little bookstore that was creaking against the heavy winds. A young boy sat in the back of the shop, lounging on one of the higher bookshelves. Thunder rumbled loudly overhead and the boy buried his face deeper in his comic book. He didn’t have a real problem with lightning, but rainy days were sort of his kryptonite. Being doused with water made him weak for some reason so staying inside today was mandatory. All part of the charm of having mysterious super powers; they came with mysterious Achilles' heel.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” called a voice from the front of the store.

Kenji flicked his wrist and a bright blue substance shot from his fingers and formed into a thin bookmark. He placed it in his comic book and then craned his neck so that he could get a better look at the customer that had just entered. He was tall and thin, but his other features were obscured by a long trench coat and a fedora. He tracked water across the floor as he glanced around the shop.

Kenji’s Sensei was out on an errand so there wasn’t anyone to help the customer. The boy wasn’t supposed to talk to his Master’s customers or even be seen by them if he could help it. He’d read enough comics to understand that certain precautions were necessary when it came to having super powers, but he still wanted to make sure that the stranger didn’t try to steal anything.

The boy watched from his perch as the customer combed through the history books and then the myths. He was obviously looking for something specific and at last he lingered over an old book that had a black and red samurai on the cover.

“Welcome to my shop,” a voice greeted suddenly.

The man in the trench coat spun around to find a very short old man standing before him with an umbrella cradled in his arms. Kenji leaned forward as he tried to hear the man in the trench coat and his sensei as they began talking in hushed tones.

“I am looking for a dangerous criminal known only as Brushogun,” the trench coat man explained.

“I had thought that the law preferred we didn’t speak of him, Officer Daizo,” Sensei replied.

The man in the coat turned aside and for a moment Kenji was afraid that he’d been spotted, but the stranger had only turned to grab the book that was behind him.

“Yes, the first super criminal of Tokyo,” the officer sighed. “He inspires much evil with just his name.”

He ran his hand over the black and red samurai on the cover of the book as he examined it. “But just as there were once such villains, there were also heroes. Do you not wish to inspire champions with just your name, Samurai?”

Sensei hardly flicked his umbrella and the book was swatted from the officer’s hands. The old man caught it before it hit the ground and held it close to his chest. “Though you may not believe it, Brushogun was no myth,” the old man explained. “He was a very real man and he paid the price for his crimes.”

Kenji watched as his Sensei walked around the police officer and hopped over to replace the book on its shelf. “Please take this,” Sensei offered his umbrella to the man. “The storm outside won’t relent any time soon.”

“Nor will I,” he replied. The officer then turned towards the door and began to leave without the umbrella that had been offered to him. Kenji listened intently to the stormy winds and thunder outside for a long while before he was assured that the man had left and he could climb down from his shelf.

“Sensei, who was that man?” Kenji asked as he approached.

“I’m back,” the old man replied as he placed the umbrella aside.

“Yes, welcome back, Sensei,” Kenji said, remembering his manners briefly. “What was all that talk about ‘Brushogun’? I’ve never heard of him before.”

“He went into hiding ages ago,” the man dismissed. “You needn’t worry about him.”

“But that man called you a Samurai! You can’t tell me that meant nothing!”

The old man set to work reorganizing shelves and he handed many books to Kenji as if the boy had volunteered to help. “Are you like a Rurouni? Oh! Or like a Ronin without a master?”

“You read far too many mangas,” the old man stated as he handed Kenji some rather heavy history books. “I have a shepherd; I am not without a master.”

Kenji strained under the weight off all the books he was holding, wishing he had super strength, when he caught sight of the book the man in the trench coat had left behind. It was sitting on one of the back shelves now, right where his Sensei had left it. The boy shifted the books around in his arms until his right index finger was free. He twirled it around, sketching the blue outline of a claw in the air. The image wavered and then moved like the pincers of a crane game filled with plush toys. Kenji mentally ordered it to zip across the room, the end of the claw still attached to his finger. It took a huge amount of concentration for him to animate any sort of object and as luck would have it; his Sensei started talking to him again. The man had his back to the boy as said something about honesty and hard work, but Kenji hardly heard as he focused on using the claw to grab the book.

He finally got a hold of it and lifted it off the shelf when his Sensei shouted, “Kenji!”

Kenji jumped, dropping the books in his hands as the claw melted away, splashing across the floor. Kenji turned sheepishly to his master, unable to make eye contact. The old man walked over and took the book in his arms again with a heavy sigh.

“You wish to know about Brushogun?” the old man asked. “He was an artist…a talented man who could have done some real good with his talents.”

The old man held the book out so that he could look down at its cover reminiscently. “But he sold his soul to a monster and became a monster himself.

Kenji took a step back as his Sensei held the book out for him to take. “I only warn you to read it with caution because these pages are stained by darkness.”

Kenji took the book slowly and flipped it open to an illustration of a circle surrounded by black, blue, pink, and yellow candles around it. That was what his Sensei was trying to warn him about; Brushogun had used dark magic. He shut the book and handed it back to the man.

“I’m sorry, Sensei,” he apologized. “I should trust your judgment.”

The old man smiled and took the book back to its place on the back shelf. “You live up to your name, Kenji,” he complimented. “Now, pick up those books you dropped.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

 Teen Titans (C) DC Comics, Warner Brothers, and Cartoon Network

Kenji (C) SuperheroGeek13

Ahir becomes a Sorcerer

"This is actually a huge leap forward from the last bit of Ahir's backstory, almost a decade, and then the next bit is even further into the future. The reason for this is that I'm really just trying to get to the point where he's all grown up and his son Zared's story begins. Thus I only covered what really needed to be covered." -Casey

“Do you realize what you’ve done, Ahir?!” Evren shouted. “You attacked a dryad! You’ve put the entire town in danger now!”

“Why should the people live in fear of the spirits when we can wield their power?” Ahir replied. “I could bring about a harvest that could withstand any drought, which would feed an entire kingdom!”

“You have nowhere near that kind of power,” the old man scolded. “And a single spirit could put a stop any of your conjuring if they had a mind to do so!”

“You’ve used magic for nearly half a century,” the young man reminded him. “And you control a power that no man thought possible.”

“Transference is an ability I learned from the nymphs,” Evren corrected. “Even if I lived well beyond old age; I would never equal them.”

Evren watched Ahir carefully for any sign that he was getting through to him, but the boy merely glared. He turned from his young apprentice in disappointment, but Ahir remained as still as stone.

“That’s because you don’t fully understand what transference is capable of,” Ahir postulated. “Giving out one’s strength to rejuvenate another.”

As the old man shook his head despondently Ahir moved towards him, his footsteps dead silent. “And it never occurred to you that such a link could be used to seize another’s power?”

Evren’s eyes went wide as he realized just what the boy was saying. He spun around to face his apprentice and was startled to find the boy only a foot away from him. Ahir slammed both of his hands against Evren’s chest and immediately the old man fell to his knees. His master attempted to cry out, but he no longer had the strength to do so.

“You fear the spirits, when what you should really fear is their power,” Ahir gloated as the old man fell dead to the ground. “The power of a full-fledged sorcerer.”

***

The woman ran across the sand as quickly as she could, shouting towards the camp surrounding the oasis. The people began to murmur and the camels pulled uneasily at their restraints. The woman finally made it within earshot of her people and ordered them to evacuate the camp.

Many began to protest for fear of wandering the desert before nightfall, but their leader only needed to utter one name in order to make them comply; Ahir.

Suddenly woman and children were being loaded onto carts and supplies of water gathered. Their leader assured them that she would keep them safe before she ran to her own tent to gather her own things.

She threw back the cloth wrapped around her head as she entered and quickly grabbed her journals and notes from their hiding places. That’s when she noticed the tall dark figure standing in the corner of her tent.

She clutched her books to her chest and stared up at the man defiantly, swearing at him in a language she guessed he couldn’t understand. “The Great Sorceress Isha, I presume?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head. “I’ve heard a great deal about your talents.”

“I have heard much of your murders,” she spat.

“Is it true that you have mastered the ability to wield fire?” he inquired as he strode across the tent. “Controlling the element with the skill of a fotia…”

“You’ve come to learn my secrets?” she asked through clenched teeth as Ahir came to stand almost on her toes.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he admitted with a quick smile.

Isha placed her books against the man’s chest as if in surrender, but then the journals busted into flames in her hands. Ahir jumped back as the front of his cloak caught fire, but he quickly doused it with his gloved hands. All that remained of the books were the ashes now covering his palms.

“Fire is a vicious element,” the woman mocked.

Ahir wiped his gloves of the ash before loosening them at the fingertips. “Oh, trust me,” he said gravely. “I understand that more than most.”

He at last removed the glove so that his scarred right hand was exposed. Isha was not surprised to find that he had been marked for death. Surely people like Ahir justified the spirits’ actions.

“I’ve learned a great deal since my last encounter with the blaze,” he reminisced. “So many sorcerers wielding such powers. By far, the most important thing I’ve learned is this…”

Isha stumbled back as his words echoed distantly in her head, “I need no longer fear trivial flames.”

Then he grabbed her by the throat with his bare hand and Isha felt not only her powers slip from her, but her memories as well. She struggled against his grip, but she quickly felt her limbs go limp and then all went black.

Characters and Story (C) SuperheroGeek13

The Prince and the Poltergeist - Chapter Two

"You ever had those weird dreams where people keep switching roles (like the Green Lantern in Justice League's 'The Once and Future Thing, Part 2') and everyone just sort of doesn't notice? Well, when I first dreamed up this story (literally) Sam and 'Dexter' here kept turning into Princess Zelda and TK from Digimon 02. Not extremely relevant to this chapter, but I thought it worth mentioning in case this story wasn't weird enough as is." -Casey

Chapter Two: Phantom Footsteps

Danny blew his icy breath against the glass surface of his prison and it fogged up. He used his fingers to doodle pictures of rockets and stars as he thought fondly about growing up to be an astronaut. His mother and father had never really encouraged his dream, but maybe they’d let him pursue it now that he could no longer take the ghost hunting throne.

A gentle humming noise began to echo from somewhere outside the laboratory. Danny turned away from his fading doodles and pressed his ear against the glass of his cylindrical prison. The sound was coming from below him in the east wing. Danny knew the castle well enough to guess that it was coming from the Grand Ballroom.

The castle had been quiet for two whole days, with no sign of Lord Masters. Danny was starting to go stir crazy alone in the laboratory and this distant humming was the most interesting distraction he’d had all day. He focused his powers and pressed his hand hard against the glass, trying to phase through it. The glass began to glow with a strange blue light and then he was knocked back by a sudden jolt. He slammed head first into the opposite side of the cylinder and was knocked to his knees by yet another jolt. “Stupid anti-ghost glass!” he muttered as he rubbed the back of his head.

The ghost boy pressed his ear to the ground to listen for the strange humming and realized something he should have figured out earlier; the floor of the lab was still made of metal. He quickly turned himself completely intangible and fell through the floor. He plummeted towards the floor of the entryway, bracing himself with a yelp. Then he stopped, levitating just inches above the ground in his solid form once again.

“Huh, you’d think Lord Masters would have thought of that,” Danny mused as he looked back up towards the ceiling.

The humming sounded again and now that it was just a door away, he could clearly hear that it was the sound of music. He quickly flew up to the main doors to the Grand Ballroom and pressed his ear up against it. “One, two, three, One two, thre---ow!” he heard someone say over the music. “Sorry!” another voice apologized.

Danny phased through the double doors cautiously and found that the Ballroom was decorated with lights and balloons and that the music was coming from a boom box on the main stage in the corner.

In the middle of the main dance floor stood Lady Sam Manson, her hair made up into long stands that resembled the legs of a spider and her dress had an equally beautiful and gothic.

Danny didn’t recognize the girl’s would be dance partner. He had short blond hair, bright blue eyes, and was wearing a black tux with a bow tie. “Sorry about that,” the boy told Sam. “Sometimes I feel like I have two left feet.”

“Not a problem,” Sam assured him. “But we’re not going get anywhere if you keep apologizing every misstep.”

“Sorry,” the boy sighed.

“Prince Dexter, I realize that it can be hard moving into a new kingdom, but you can relax. There’s nothing scary about the Fenton Kingdom.” As Lady Manson finished assuring the prince, she glanced up towards the door and saw the translucent form of the ghost boy staring back at her. She cried out in surprise and Danny fell through the door with a yelp.

He was lying on the tile floor of the ballroom now, completely visible, with the two royal teens staring down at him. He quickly jumped to his feet and backed up against the door, too flustered to phase through it.

“I---uh---I can explain!” he stuttered as he glanced between the two older kids.

“You’re a ghost!” Prince Dexter announced as he pointed down at the boy.

“No, no! You don’t understand!” Danny wanted to explain, but he knew that his existence had to remain a secret.

The young girl stepped towards him, her eyes wide with wonder as she reached out her hand. She placed it on the boy’s shoulder tentatively and Danny flinched from how warm her hand felt against his eerily cold skin.

“You are a ghost, aren’t you?” she asked in awe.

“Kinda…” he admitted, figuring that an explanation about the difference between ghosts and half-ghost would only cause more trouble.

“That’s…” she began, staring into his glowing green eyes. “That’s awesome!”

“Beg pardon?” Danny and Dexter asked in chorus.

Lady Mason turned back to her dance partner with excitement twinkling in her eyes. “You never see stray ghosts wandering around this Kingdom!” she explained. “Not with the Fearsome Fentons ruling over the lands!”

“You’re not freaking out?!” Prince Dexter shouted, clearly freaked out by the matter.

“I should probably go,” Danny said as he reached for the doorknob.

“Wait! Please don’t!” the girl implored as she turned back to the ghost-boy. “I’m Sam Manson and this is Prince Dexter Poyne. What’s your name?”

“I’m Danny Fent-fen-fen---Phantom!” he faltered as he realized that he couldn’t tell them that he was the prince.

“Danny Phantom? A bit on the nose there, Slick,” Dexter pointed out, causing Sam to elbow him in the ribs.

“You don’t have to be afraid of us,” the girl assured Danny. “Why don’t you stay and dance with us? Prince Dexter needs all the practice he can get.”

Prince Dexter frowned at her comment, but Danny hardly took notice. He’d worried for weeks that people would run in fear at the sight of him, but these teenagers were acting perfectly accepting of his ghostly appearance. “You guys aren’t afraid of me?” he asked.

“You think you’re the first ghost we’ve ever seen?” Dexter asked dubiously.

“And you’re like eight years old,” Lady Manson pointed out.

“I’m ten!” Danny corrected, though his voice choked with laughter. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to hang out with kids his own age. “I guess I could hang out for a little while.”

“Great!” the girl hollered as she leapt across the ballroom to turn up the volume on her boom box. A fast pace beat began to play and Dexter quickly took to spinning and pointing.

Danny floated over to offer his hand to Lady Manson, able to do so at eye level while he was floating on air.

“May I have this dance, Lady Manson?” he asked in a very princely manner.

“Please call me Sam,” she replied. “And yes, you may.”

She took his hand and then pulled him across the dance floor while spinning around dizzyingly. She made some joke about Danny being really light on his feet, but he didn’t really hear her over the pounding music. They spun and flailed through the whole CD for almost an hour before Sam insisted that they get back to serious practicing.

Sam took turns demonstrating the dance steps with Danny, who knew them all very well, and then practicing them with Prince Dexter. Danny did his best not to laugh at the Prince’s efforts, but he snickering carried throughout the room.

“Everybody’s a critic,” Dexter sighed with a half hearted smile.

“Sorry, Dex,” Danny apologized. “It took me years to learn those moves.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I had just finished learning to walk, so I guess that was kind of a factor.”

Danny laughed at his own joke and then Sam walked over to turn off the boom box. “Well, boys, this has been great, but I need to get back to the other preparations for the ball,” she announced.

“Same time tomorrow, doll?” Dexter asked with a wink.

“Of course, but don’t ever call me that again,” she warned with a frown.

“Sure thing, Sam,” he agreed, before turning to Danny. “Hey, will you be back here tomorrow, Phantom?”

“Uh…well,” he hesitated as his friends looked at him expectantly. Master Masters had always stressed that no one could know his secret. The half-ghost son of the famous ghost hunting Fentons would ruin the family name and the kingdom would lose faith in its King. He couldn’t risk that, but Sam and Dexter wouldn’t tell, would they?

“I’ll be here,” he said with a smile.

He quickly turned intangible and then flew out of the ballroom through the roof. To his satisfaction, he heard Sam say something about how awesome that was as he left. He’d have to figure out a couple of new tricks before he saw them again. Who knew that having ghost powers could actually be kind of cool?

Danny flew back through the floor of the laboratory and settled back into his glass cylinder prison. Master Vlad Masters was nowhere to be seen, so what harm could there be in sneaking out a couple more times?

Danny Phantom (C) Nickelodeon

Story (C) SuperheroGeek13