Photo Opportunities IX

Dash’s fingers brushed lightly across the sensitive volume dial, slowly turning up the sound injected into his ears via headphones as he jogged down the street. He waved to the pastor who stood by the door greeting people as they entered a church he didn’t go to but always jogged by early Sunday evening. The aged old man with soft eyes and a kind smile waved back to him like he always did and Dash kept on jogging.

The night looked promising, clear skies, warm, the occasional cloud rolling by casting a small shadow across the moon for a few moments as it drifted. It was a night to lie out in the grass and just stare up into the atmosphere.

That is, if you’re not currently helping to track a group of zombie ghosts, which was exactly what Dash was doing. Sure it may look like he was going lazily down a street he frequented on his evening jogs, but that was all just slight coincidence. And his slight upturned face wasn’t to enjoy the colorful sky, but to keep his ghostly companion Danny Phantom in sight, and those headphones connected to a strange iPod like device, communication. Yup, he was working today.

He heard Sam and Tucker voice their positions, having difficulty maneuvering their motor scooters into the small alleyways and busy streets Danny zoomed over. They were a block away to his left, down a street named after some plant that probably grew there before it was cut down, burned, squashed, and paved over to build the city.

His mind wandered back to the afternoon, Danny up in the Ops Center doing god knows what, and Jack and Maddie, despite Dash’s protests, fixed up the guest room next to Danny’s for him. They were, apparently, perfectly fine with him practically living there. Dash wondered about that while listening to the three teens bicker over the line. He fully planned on going home; in fact he was going to go home after helping Danny make his rounds. Kwan picked him up in the morning, and it wouldn’t due for his mom to, once again, tell his friends he’d spent the night at Fenton’s.

People were already starting to get the wrong idea.

He had to do something about that.

-

Sam decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with Danny and Tucker over the bruises and dropped the subject, instead choosing to focus all her attention on scanning the surrounding buildings and alleys for ghost activity.

This patrol wasn’t the norm for them, as during the day they usually waited for ghost attacks, reserving the night for actually looking for them. Nightfall was when the haunts began, but apparently something had changed, or so said Danny, and their ever so fearless leader wanted to investigate. So they were out here half hour before sunset, with Dash.

Sam and Tucker protested against his inclusion, well, she had protested, Tucker just quickly agreed and chose not to face off with the only two people who could possibly strike fear into him, his best friend and his bully. Dash and Danny, Sam acknowledged, were quite the intimidating duo, whether they were agreeing on something or debating it. And they fought worse than her and Tucker.

Dash, much to her chagrin, kept up with Danny better than they ever did, usually staying only a few meters back under him and easily maneuvering into alleyways and hopping fences. She told herself she could vault obstacles as well as the jock, she simply had to take care of Tucker, who often ended up in some dangerous ghost’s clutches, resulting in further work for Danny. Still, it was very irritating to see someone else doing their work, and doing it better.

For a while she had thought the worse possible thing was for Valerie to join their group, her gadgets and brilliant fighting skills outmatched them and she would have quickly become the public sidekick to Danny Phantom. Then Jazz, in her peppy “lets name things” helpfulness made her wish Valerie wasthere, at least she took the job seriously.

Now she wondered, while still resenting Dash, if her view of him would change like they did with the two girls. So far he had only been a mild annoyance and a good babysitter for Danny while he’d been injured. Truth be told she could get used to the idea of calling up the obsessed fan boy to play nurse. He was far more qualified to tussle with an angry and hurt Danny then the rest of them, Danny couldn’t glare him down like he could with Tucker and her.

He’d been getting rather good at looking menacing these days. Her mind wandered off to his sudden moody attitude changes, usually surfacing around Christmas and when something was seriously bothering him.

She was so caught up in her thoughts she completely forgot where she was going and found herself sliding to a halt in a side street blocked by a wide chain link face. Tucker stopped his scooter with a bit more grace than she did, but squealing tires and black streaks weren’t her idea of a turnoff.

“Shit.” She said and Danny laughed in her headset. “Shuddup,” She snapped. “What street are you over, I lost sight of you.”

“Basilisk, down by the docs.” She heard Dash say and her frown depended. Pros and cons in this arrangement, she reminded herself, still she’d never, ever enjoy someone play human sidekick better than her, he may have his uses, but his showing her up was not welcome. He can do all the patrolling he wanted when they were all off to college.

“Right. I know where to go. We’ll catch up at the beach.” She said hotly and clicked off her headset. A dangerous and childish act, but Tucker still had his on and she felt a bit of satisfaction as the subtle static snapped instantly to silence.

She saw the way Danny had talked ad laughed and played with Dash and his pals. He had always had a big inflatable ego and this newfound acceptance would no doubt go to his head, as it usually did. They all had their faults. She was passionate about things and tended to forget more important pressing matters, Tucker was power hungry, and Danny was, at heart, rather shallow. She knew this, and she accepted it like any good inalienable rights supporter would. But that didn’t mean something shouldn’t be done. An alcoholic may accept they’re an alcoholic, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t stop drinking.

Something had to be done about Dash. Just like something had to be done about Valerie and Jazz and every other person who tried to weasel their way into their group or pull Danny out. She and Tucker couldn’t just fall to the wayside. She wouldn’t allow it.

She had to do something about this.

-

They were laughing by the time they left the beach, holding their sides, barely able to balance on their stupid little motor scooters. Dash didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to work the thermos and press the release button. He was getting frustrated and neither Sam nor Tucker would help. They just sat on the cold damp sand and laughed until they couldn’t breath and their faces were turning different shades. It was an embarrassing moment for both Dash and Danny, the later crammed into the thermos in the most undignified way.

He didn’t even have the glory of having been in a fight like he did when Jazz had sucked him in. No, he had decided, as the sun was setting and the beach just happened to be a brilliant spot for watching it recede, to show Dash how to work some of the Fenton gadgets. After all, if he was going to be hanging around on a semi permanent basis, as soon as this whole thing was resolved he was going to pay Clockwork a visit; he would need to at least have a grasp on how to be useful. Football tackles and Hollywood karate chops didn’t really work on things that went intangible.

It was a simple exercise; one he had taught Sam and Tucker after he had learned how to activate the thermos without using his powers, point and press the button. Simple, precise, and only really needing a few tries to get a feel for the unreasonable weight of the metal cylinder.

Thinking back it probably wasn’t a great idea to do it at sunset, on a terrain where the light had nothing to block it and cast shadows, where the fading rays could hit you right in the face, or at least hit the windows of nearby buildings. Like the windows of the boat rentals shop with the big shiny metal sign with paint across it that says “We rent Boats” in the window, as if the name ‘Boat Rentals Shop’ didn’t get the message across clearly enough.

Fading sunlight plus shiny metal surface plus amateur ‘ghost getter’ wielding an open thermos was not an equation Danny really wanted to face that evening, yet there he was, stuck in the thermos after a strategically placed sunbeam had hit Dash right in the eyes and had caused him to stumble and screw his eyes shut, accidentally aiming his ‘weapon’ at the floating Danny Phantom.

Sam and Tucker looked at the uncapped thermos in silence before tumbling onto their backs in crippling laughter. Dash looked horrified as his eyes darted around the air above their heads, hoping he hadn’t just done what he had thought he’d just done.

He looked down at the open thermos, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. Sam and Tucker pointed, trying in vain to form words. He tipped the object over, expecting Danny to come pooling out like a liquefied person filling up a mold, feet first, then legs then hips and so on. Instead he got a shout and a curse from inside. Startled he stepped back, dropping the thermos in the sand where it rolled emitting the worse kind of language Dash or any of them heard from him yet.

Sam and Tucker just laughed harder. They really would have been concerned, if this wasn’t maybe the fifth time that year one of them accidentally captured him. He tended to get in the way a lot in his fights, once he and Youngblood had been stuck in there together for three hours because Lancer had confiscated the thermos until after school.

The water touched the edge of the device and Dash snatched it up quickly, fearful the tide would take it away. He clutched it to his chest and glared at Sam and Tucker with malice.

“What do I do?” He asked.

“Ju-Just press-” Sam tried to get out.

“Release,” Tucker gasped, on his back now, his heavy breathing interrupted by small shaking spasms of laughter.

“Where’s the release?” Dash asked.

“On the thermos,” Tucker said and Dash scowled. Sam just laughed harder. It wasn’t that funny, but since she was laughing anyway it really didn’t matter. Such was the curse of hilarity; at the moment a meaningless noun would make her wet herself.

Now they were walking their scooters off the sand to head home, leaving Dash to figure out the contraption alone with a muttering, cursing Danny Phantom too busy yelling at his retreating friends in an almost inaudible way to help Dash get him out.

One step forward two steps back…..

-

Dash slammed the door to his house hard enough to cause the pictures on the walls to shudder. His mom, in all her beautiful middle-aged glory, poked her head out of the kitchen to stare curiously at him. Dash never figured out how his mother could be such a feminazi yet dress like she was an alcoholic housewife from the fifties. Complete with headband in hair and pearls around her neck.

The only rebellion from the picture perfect woman he called his mother was the flats that adorned her feet, as working seventy hours a week in three inch heels would not make her the peppy person she was. As usual her hair was impeccable and her makeup artistically done to make her look beautiful, yet not hide her ‘wisdom lines’ as she liked to call her wrinkles.

He smiled at her in the adoring way he always did when he saw her the few hours out of the day. His heart always swelled up when he saw his parents, unlike most of his friend’s houses, Paulina living with her divorced father, Valerie having a dead mother, Kwan with his grandparents, he had a perfect family. And he loved being reminded of that every time he walked through the door late to see his mother working to prepare a large family meal despite the fact that she had piles of paperwork sitting on her desk down the hall.

His father screamed from the bedroom, yelling into his cell phone about insane layers and not enough evidence for a warrant.

Deciding it was best not to interrupt his dad he hurried up the stairs as quietly as possible and headed into his room, the thermos still in his hand, capped now, and shut the door on his family, and the world. He had never wanted to shy away from his parents, but sitting there trying to find a single button on a heavy metal thermos that seemed to have a million little lights that all looked like buttons but weren’t wasn’t what his parents considered sane.

He tossed the Fenton Thermos unceremoniously onto his bed while chucking off he shoes and putting his jacket back up in the closet with his millions of others. There was a frenzied slur of swears omitted from the cylindrical device but Dash ignored them, instead flopping down on his bed and, burying his face in his pillow, he screamed.

Teenagers should not have to go through this much stress in a few days time.

“It’s your own fault,” Dash declared when he regained his breath. More muffled curses told him the being in the thermos heard him. “I’m sorry, I know I screwed up but it was all your idea, and it is your fault.”

The thermos was silent, Dash looked over at it, it almost looked like it was pouting.

“So, if you tell me how to, I can open the thermos.” He said to the device, “I can let you out, if you just tell me how to do it.”

Again silence.

“Why so quiet?” he picked up the thermos. “Say something.”

Just a quiet swear. Dash blushed at the comment.

“Fine, just stay in there and be bitter.” Dash said shoving the thermos on the top of his bed none too gently. “You can just spend the night in there.” Shucking his shirt off and kicking off his pants he sat back in his bed, he flipped open his cell phone. “I’m calling your house to say you’re staying the night.”

There were a series of protests and swear words from the thermos, Dash threw his pillow at it. “Be quiet Fenton, and get some sleep.” He lay down on his bed, feeling the thermos beneath his pillow slip down against the back of his neck. “We’ve got school in the morning.”

There was more noise but the pillow made it almost impossible to hear.

-

Once again Danny found himself sitting on Dash’s bed watching the larger teen go through his closet and, though he didn’t thin it was possible, he was far more pissed.

“Still have the sling?” Dash asked, pushing aside a row of hangers containing jackets to reach a box behind them.

Danny held up the hated material with his pinky, though he really didn’t want to, as his arm was already mostly healed, he knew he had to, just to keep up appearances.

Dash turned around with a T-shirt and jeans in his hand, he nodded at the sling before handing the cloths to Danny.

Danny just stared at the items. “You know it would only take me a moment to fly home and change. You don’t have to babysit me,” he scowled.

“Listen Fenton, you’re in no condition to be doing any kind of hovering or passing through walls or the like, not with those things out there and not with your injuries.” Dash pointed his finger in Danny’s face. “And besides—”

“That’s it!” Danny jumped up, knocking the cloths out of Dash’s hand. ‘I’ve had enough of your damn overprotective bullshit. You stay at my house without my permission, you follow me everywhere, you trap me in my own damn thermos, and now you tell me I can’t even go home and change?! Bullshit!”

Dash looked taken aback. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

“Helpful? Helpful?! I think I preferred you beating me up on a daily basis! You are the furthest thing from helpful anyone could ever get! Jazz was more helpful than you and she was unbearable!” Danny halted in his outburst, a tightness in his chest causing him to unconsciously clench the bottom hem of his shirt, but he knew if he showed weakness, if he backed down even slightly, Dash would never get the point, would never understand that ‘he’ was the protector. That he didn’t need rescuing. That moment Friday night, it was a one time breakdown; a small glimpse of weakness and frailty that he would never show again, could never show again.

With a deep breath he met Dash’s gaze, determined to take his life back. “I don’t need a savior Dash, help maybe, advice sure, a decoy to draw attention, hell yeah, but not a savior. Never a savior. I’ve played the victim too damn long to go back to the sidelines.” With that he disappeared, like a he did before, a popped bubble, once again leaving Dash in his room, with the empty unfulfilled feeling of someone who didn’t get the last word in on an argument.

-

It was no surprise to Danny that when he popped into his house there was no one around to avoid, he knew that Dash had called last night to say he had stayed over, meaning wine and dinner mess in the kitchen and late sleeping parents wrapped in each other’s arms upstairs. So a quick change and a slice of bread were well within his ability, without the use of ghost powers, meaning he could conserve energy for fighting off the day’s spectral advances.

Life was, at least, slightly more bearable after his first shower of the week, he had started to smell pretty ripe after two days. It had only taken him a good fifteen minutes to get everything ready for Monday, everybody’s favorite day of the week.

With a pat on Grimalkin’s head he transformed and flew out the window, hoping his dad wouldn’t wake up and look out the window.

He had no doubt he would run into an irate Dash while at school, they did share pretty much every class, but it was okay, better actually. A kind, considerate Dash would probably make the high school implode. Yeah, pissy Dash Baxter was better, it was the norm, and norm was what he needed now.

-

Ah the joys of being a high school bully; the power, the thrill, the look of pure terror in the eyes of the submissive, and the hatred radiating from those yet to be broken. What more could any jock want out of his high school experience? What else was there to do? What higher standard could the brainless hulking brutes of these sanctified hallways set for themselves but to be the constant torment of those who would one day rule society?

Dash Baxter, start quarterback for Amity Parks own Casper High, was far from being one of the future rulers, but rather was doomed to forever live his life as the low income worker. If he was lucky nothing bad would happen to his parent’s finances and he’d get a little something nice when they finally kicked the bucket. All these future plans meant little to him now, however, and every time he walked through the doors of Casper High he was constantly reminded that a few semesters at the community collage were all he really had planned after senior year.

To take his mind off these troubling matters he instantly clicked back into bully mode, instinctively searching out his favorite targets to help ease the pain of failure.

However a he stepped through the doors today he was instantly reminded that his favorite and frequent target was pretty much permanently off limits, and as Kwan, the only football star in the history of Casper High to actually have a chance of success outside of playing for the pros, started to slide up beside him and chat about what happened Saturday he was only reminded more of how useless he was.

Kwan was trying to ask him about why he disappeared yesterday; he just gave some offhanded excuse about needing to be home early and leaving something and Fenton’s house. As far as he was concerned the whole weekend was a complete bomb, from the time he figured out who Danny Phantom was to the big verbal fights that had both him and Fenton snarling at each other.

In fact, whatever upside he might have thought was involved in hanging out with Danny Phantom had been mercilessly shredded by the fact that he also had to put up with Danny Fenton. Suddenly his hero didn’t seem very godly and heroic anymore, and Fenton didn’t seem so much like a wuss. His entire perspective was changing right beneath his feet and he felt like the world would never right itself. He was caught between protecting someone who couldn’t protect themselves, and trusting someone capable of protecting an entire town, and these two were one in the same!

“Dash!” He snapped back to the school, away from the crumbling, folding earth beneath his feet.

“Yeah?” He asked, looking at his best friend, up until Friday he was the only person Dash thought he could truly count on. How much could really change in a few short days?

Kwan stared hard at him, they had stopped at Dash’s locker, Dash standing, staring at is combination lock for a few moments before Kwan snapped him out of his daze. Kwan was worried; Dash was acting more out of it than usual. “Are you okay buddy?”

“Of course, why?”

“You know…” Kwan paused, looking hard at him. “You know you can trust me with anything right?”

“Yeah.” Dash said. Yeah, right. Like Dash could really trust his blabbermouth fried with anything. He loved Kwan, really he did, but the guy was too gossipy to be trusted with anything you didn’t want all over the school. Like Dash’s love of Nsync when they were sophomores.

Kwan regarded his short answer and decided he could take a hint. Walking away, back towards their usual group he threw Dash one last worried look. ‘Fenton’s parents probably experimented on him or something.’ He thought jokingly, but new it wasn’t something as absurd as that. No, Dash was troubled by something.

But what?

-

“I don’t believe it!” Tucker said as he grabbed a copy of the school paper. “This must be a dream, somebody pinch me, this can’t be real!” he was practically screaming, shaking as he held the paper.

“Ouch! I said pinch, not punch!” He glared at the newspaper girl who had socked him. She flipped her thick brown ponytail at him and moved on.

“What’s the ruckus?” Sam asked as she approached her sour yet energized looking friend rubbing his arm.

“Something unbelievable, Sam. Something unbelievable.” He shot his fist up in the air and proudly declared. “I won!”

Sam rolled her eyes, snatching the abused paper from his clenched fist. “Shut up Tucker.”

“That’s the picture I took of Danny on Thursday. Wow I thought I’d take longer to do, who knew they’d have it out by Monday? I can’t believe they decided to print it in color!” Sam looked pained and Tucker fell momentarily silent. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Did you see this?”

“What?”

This, this here! Did you see it?” Sam pointed to the paper.

Tucker looked in shock at the page. “Is that today’s date?” Sam nodded.

“We missed his birthday.”