Danny Phantom Fan Fiction ❯ Posthumous Legacies ❯ Disappearing ( Chapter 1 )

Summary: Danny made his choice. And now I've made mine. As of today, Sam Manson will no longer exist.

Warnings: This story will be much darker than the show, filled with death, curse words, evil-doing, and a female hero, so if you have any qualms with any of that, leave now or I might smack you over the head with something blunt.

 

Posthumous Legacies (Title Pending)

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Do they clench like claws against your own skin
when you're living your day all over again

---

 

Chapter One: Disappearing

 

It's important you realize the facts. Because no one understands what happened. Not even Tucker. But I do. I saw it all. I saw him leave, promising he'd come back. I saw him wave goodbye as the world crashed around us, and I heard his final words to me, and then I saw him disappear and then everything stopped.

 

I saw it all.

 

I remember it all.

 

No one else does.

 

That was the day I stopped being less-than-normal Sam Manson and became Crazy Sam. I remember explaining it all and then everyone thought I was insane. My parents sent me to six different psychiatrists and Tucker hated me because he didn't remember!

 

No one remembered.

 

The random ghost attacks…

 

Danny Phantom…

 

Even the fact that the ghost portal had been on for a few years now…

 

As if their minds had been erased…

 

I don't know what made me so special. Why did I remember everything? Why did everyone else forget?

 

The questions still haunt me.

 

But for a little while I was able to calm down. I could put things into perspective.

 

Danny made his choice.

 

And now I've made mine.

 

As of today, Sam Manson will no longer exist.

 

---

 

“No fucking way.”

 

Sam stared at awe and stopped twirling the scythe in her hand, watching the glowing sickle retract back into long rod. The rod then folded up into a stick no larger than a lipstick tube. Easier to carry around, and no one would think twice about it.

 

Not that anyone would think twice about her.

 

Her black hair had grown out and now rested in a ponytail that brushed her waist. She'd kept her gothic outlook: bondage boots with steel toes up to her thigh; a purple vinyl skirt to distract from the fact that within her boots were enough weapons to take out the White House; a black shirt; and a black trench coat for more reason than one. (No self respecting goth would be seen without their black trench coats!)

 

“I repeat,” she turned back to the girl behind her, “No fucking way.”

 

The girl grinned. “Actually yes. But I didn't think you'd be that interest…”

 

Sam groaned. “What do I have to do?”

 

The girl grinned wider. Grey was her name, a small wiry girl who could be hyperactive at times. But she was a decent mechanic, (better than decent, but Sam would never admit it) and had mixed enough techno songs for Sam to befriend her. Because in all honesty, Sam knew nothing about mechanics, just enough about fighting to kick a bit of ass.

 

Grey fell back into her conveniently placed swivel chair and turned on her computer.

 

“Oh it's really nothing,” she said tauntingly, “You'll be able to finish it in no time.”

 

“Grey, I'm serious. How did you even snag this?”

 

“The blueprints to our own little ghost portal? Ever hear of the internet?”

 

But that wasn't it. In the corner of the blueprints so neatly rendered on the desk before her was the Fenton Works signature.

 

“You did not get these from the internet.”

 

Grey looked up, shrugging her shoulders. “What does it matter where I got them?”

 

“I swear to the forces that be if you are doing anything illegal…”

 

“I'm not,” she smiled, “The Grey Shadow is.”

 

The Grey Shadow was her online name, a nefarious hacker and gamer who knew more cheats, codes, and hidden bits of information than anyone else on the net.

 

“These are the original designs! There's no way they'd post them on the internet!”

 

“My dear little Reaper,” Grey shook her hand, “It's not a matter of who's on the net or not. If it's on a computer, it is not untraceable.”

 

“So you…”

 

“Connected using an online account one of them had. I could easily delve into their networks and work out a few encrypted files. Their password was `Fenton!' Do you know how easy that was?”

 

Sam couldn't hide a smile. An egomaniac Mr. Fenton had always been.

 

“I just had to do a file transfer to this computer and I had everything I needed, including his notes and formulas.”

 

It was probably Maddie who had thought to put everything on the computer. It would be much easier to go back and look at it. For other people also.

 

But Sam was not thinking of that. She was staring at the Ghost Portal as if it might build itself.

 

“There's a chance…” she whispered to herself, “He might still be there.”

 

“So I just need a few supplies,” Grey continued, “Things I can't get through normal procedures. Of course, if everyone noticed the Grey Shadow was a girl who worked in her basement on ghost equipment that might be my downfall. So I'll have to send you.”

 

Sam started. “What?”

 

“I'll go with you,” Grey assured her, “But you are so much more intimidating than I am. I've found most of the stuff on eBay, and there's a chance I can get a bit off TF13, but it's doubted.”

 

TF13 was another internet hacker Grey chatted with. Once she'd asked what `TF' stood for, and he answered “Too Fine.” He had nearly the same aptitude for technology that Grey did, and his knowledge of ghosts was uncanny.

 

“And what are your other sources?” Sam asked.

 

Grey didn't answer.

 

“Grey?”

 

…

 

“Do I have to hurt you?”

 

Grey shook her head. “Do we ask questions?”

 

A rule implemented far back. If Grey didn't answer a question, drop it. Sam had succeeded in breaking the rule fourteen times.

 

“When I'm involved.”

 

She stopped typing for a brief moment. “Just bring that nifty little scythe you've got and we'll be fine.”

 

Why didn't she like where this was going?

 

---

 

Sam kicked her boots, hearing the steel click together, and sighed.

 

She'd trusted Grey this far and possibly farther, but her sources were questionable at best. And she'd noticed some of the equipment. Some of it as handmade by the Fentons. Which meant some of it was nearly impossible to get.

 

But if it meant opening a portal to the Ghost Zone…

 

(She was going to kick herself for this later…)

 

…She was all for it.

 

And that was when she heard the scream.