The campus looked normal.
That was the problem.
Students crossed the quad with backpacks slung low, laughter cutting through the morning air. Someone spilled coffee near the library entrance and swore loudly. A group of freshmen argued about whether an eight a.m. lecture should be considered a crime. Life, indifferent and unbothered, rolled on.
Danny felt like a crack running through it.
He kept his hood up as he walked, not because it hid him. Everyone knew who he was. But it made him feel smaller, less exposed. Or maybe he just wanted something between himself and the world.
Eyes followed him anyway.
Not staring. Not openly. Just glances that lingered a second too long. Conversations that dipped when he passed. Phones lifted casually, lenses angled, screens glowing.
Danny Phantom didn't walk these paths.
Danny Fenton did.
And somehow that felt worse.
His phone buzzed.
CAMPUS ALERT
Engineering Wing remains closed pending investigation.
Investigation.
The word sat heavy in his stomach.
He replayed yesterday in his head without meaning to. The way his blast had missed. The way his legs had buckled. The way the ghost had looked at him, not with rage or hunger, but recognition.
You're fading.
Danny shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking.
Sam's lab felt wrong.
Not unsafe. Not hostile.
Just tense.
The lights were brighter than usual, the hum of machinery louder. Screens glowed with overlapping readouts, data scrolling too fast to follow. Tools lay scattered across the tables in half-finished configurations, wires stripped and reattached, solder marks still warm.
Sam stood at the center of it all, rigid and unmoving.
She didn't turn when Danny entered.
"You shouldn't be here," she said.
Danny closed the door behind him. "Good morning to you too."
No response.
He took a few steps closer. "Sam."
She exhaled sharply, then finally faced him. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her jaw tight.
"You're unstable," she said.
Danny flinched despite himself. "Wow."
"This isn't a joke."
"I know," he said quietly. "Neither are you."
She rubbed her temples. "I ran the data all night."
"And?"
"And I don't like what I'm seeing."
Danny leaned against the table, careful not to touch anything. "You never like what you're seeing."
"This is different."
She turned one of the screens toward him. Lines spiked and dipped in jagged patterns, intersecting in ways that made his head ache just looking at them.
"The device didn't malfunction," Sam said. "It did exactly what it was designed to do."
Danny frowned. "Then why did it almost kill me?"
Sam swallowed. "Because I designed it to interact with ghost energy."
"And?"
"And you're not just ghost energy."
The words landed harder than she seemed to expect.
Danny stared at the screen. "So what. I'm incompatible?"
"No," she said quickly. "You're too compatible."
He looked at her.
"It synced with you," she continued. "Your energy didn't resist the field. It aligned with it. That feedback surge wasn't the device draining you."
"Then what was it doing?"
Sam hesitated.
"Listening," she said.
A chill crawled up Danny's spine.
"That ghost yesterday," Sam went on, voice quieter now, "it wasn't destabilized by the device. It reacted to you before I even activated it."
Danny remembered the way it had spoken his name.
"You don't belong to either side.
Danny straightened. "So what are you saying?"
Sam met his gaze. "I think your presence is changing the environment around you. Ghosts aren't just crossing over randomly anymore. They're responding."
"To me," Danny said.
"Yes."
He laughed softly. "That's great. Fantastic. I'm a walking signal flare."
"This isn't funny."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm laughing."
The knock came before either of them could say more.
Three sharp raps against the metal door.
Sam stiffened.
Danny's heart sank.
The door opened without waiting for permission.
Two men stepped inside, dressed too cleanly, too deliberately for a university building. Their eyes moved constantly, cataloging everything in the room.
"Daniel Fenton," the taller one said. "Samantha Manson."
Sam crossed her arms. "Who's asking?"
The man produced a badge, flashing it briefly. "Federal task force."
Danny didn't like the way they said federal.
"We're here to follow up on yesterday's event," the second agent said. "We'd like to speak with you both."
Danny shook his head. "I already gave a statement."
"This isn't about paperwork," the first agent replied. "It's about risk assessment."
Sam stepped forward. "Danny stopped the ghost."
"With assistance," the agent said calmly, eyes flicking to the equipment.
Danny felt heat rise in his chest.
"You don't get to—"
"We'd appreciate your cooperation," the second agent interrupted. Polite. Firm.
Danny looked at Sam.
She gave a small nod.
They followed.
The room they were taken to had no windows.
That was the first thing Danny noticed.
The second was the cameras. Three of them. Fixed. Unblinking.
They were asked to sit. The agents remained standing.
Footage played on a screen behind them. Slowed. Analyzed. Annotated.
Danny watched himself hesitate.
He hadn't realized how obvious it was.
"You're slower," the agent said. "Not by much. But enough."
Danny clenched his jaw.
"That delay resulted in injuries," the agent continued. "Minor. But avoidable."
"I stopped the threat," Danny said.
"Yes," the agent agreed. "Eventually."
Sam leaned forward. "He saved lives."
"And nearly lost his own," the agent replied.
Silence.
"We've been monitoring spectral activity for years," the agent went on. "Patterns are changing."
Danny's stomach tightened.
"Incidents are becoming more focused. More localized."
"More deliberate," the second agent added.
Sam glanced at Danny.
"We believe the catalyst is standing in this room," the first agent said.
Danny felt suddenly very tired.
"What are you saying?" he asked.
"That you're no longer just a responder," the agent replied. "You're a variable."
Liability.
The word wasn't spoken.
It didn't need to be.
"We're initiating oversight," the agent continued. "Monitoring your activity. Limiting engagement when necessary."
"You can't control him," Sam snapped.
The agent's gaze flicked to her. "We already are."
Danny stood.
"Sit down," the second agent said.
For a heartbeat, Danny didn't.
Green flickered at the edges of his vision.
Sam grabbed his wrist.
He sat.
"This is for public safety," the agent said. "Until we're certain your condition isn't deteriorating."
Danny laughed softly. "And if it is?"
The agent didn't answer.
They were released with warnings, forms, and a sense of something tightening around Danny's chest.
Outside, the sky was too blue. Too normal.
Sam didn't speak as they walked.
Neither did Danny.
When they reached the lab again, Sam stopped.
"They don't see you as a person," she said. "They see a problem."
Danny nodded. "So does the universe, apparently."
She turned to him. "Danny, listen to me. We can fix this."
He looked at her, really looked at her.
She believed that.
That scared him.
That night, Danny didn't patrol.
He sat on the roof of his dorm, legs dangling, the city spread out beneath him like a map of obligations he could never fulfill.
He thought about the ghost's voice.
The agents' eyes.
Sam's device.
His father's disappointment.
The exhaustion finally caught up with him, heavy and inescapable.
"You look worse than usual."
Danny spun.
Vlad stood near the edge, hands clasped, expression unreadable.
"How long have you been there?" Danny asked.
"Long enough," Vlad replied. "To see you hesitate."
Danny's fists clenched. "Leave."
Vlad smiled faintly. "They're watching you now."
Danny didn't respond.
"I warned you," Vlad said. "Public heroism invites public judgment."
"What do you want?" Danny asked.
"To offer clarity," Vlad said. "You're not failing because you're weak."
Danny scoffed. "You don't get to—"
"You're failing because you're trying to be human and ghost at the same time," Vlad said. "And the world won't allow it."
Danny's breath caught.
"They'll decide for you," Vlad continued. "Soon."
He stepped back, fading.
"When that happens," Vlad said softly, "remember who tried to prepare you."
He vanished.
Danny stayed on the roof until the lights below blurred.
When he finally stood, he made a choice.
Not the right one.
But one he could live with.
For now.
Deep in the Ghost Zone, something ancient shifted.
Fracture lines widened.
And the world leaned closer.