#'decanter' is such a fake fucking word lmao

[canofspooks]

Phantom Goes Cross-Country (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: The gang finds themselves in another ghost town… literally. Turns out Amity isn't alone in its problems with the supernatural.

Words: 1550

AO3 Link

Sam woke up not long after Tucker had finally given in to his badgering and gone to sleep. Or, at least pretended to. That left Danny to answer all of Sam's burning questions, like "how far is the nearest rest stop?" and "who taught you to drive?"

He condensed the last several hours into a few minutes pretty easily. It was mostly staring blankly at the road, listening to pop songs on the radio with the occasional interruption of smalltalk.

"We're doing Phantom bullshit… why, exactly?" Sam asked, after he explained his and Tucker's plan.

"'Cause it'll be fun."

"I thought this whole trip was about you quitting the Phantom schtick for a couple weeks."

"- Nope." He didn't wait for the question to fester. "This trip means I don't have to flip burgers for a couple weeks. Phantom is way more fun."

In the rearview mirror, he did not miss Sam's incredulous stare. He waited for her to protest, but she only shrugged. "If you say so. But, if it gets too much, you always have the chance to back out."

"Thanks. Now where do we want to crash for the night- or… morning?"

While he and Sam scoped the area out for a motel, Danny felt a little silly for expecting any culture shock from a single day of driving. They'd crossed state lines and escaped the ectoplasmic mist that surrounded Amity Park, but spooky ghost towns seemed to be a dime a dozen. This one just traded Amity's deceptive suburban charm for trailer homes and boarded-up shops.

If the dozens of stores creatively named things like "Platwoods Automotive" and "Platwoods General" were anything to go by, Danny would hazard a guess that the town was named Platwoods. If he was wrong, then the ghost of the town's founder could fight him in a McDonald's parking lot while they were here. Like any good dying town in the rust belt, it seemed like the only building that had been constructed since the 1800s.

The night, or what remained of it, went about as smoothly as it could've. They got a motel room, realized the lock could be easily broken, came to terms with the idea of being killed in their sleep, and woke up the next morning surprisingly not dead. Not even a full day back on the job, and Team Phantom was already winning.

First stop that morning? Food. The only place open on the quiet Saturday morning was a small diner nearby, which Danny would've almost mistaken for someone's house if not for the "OPEN" sign taped to the window. The inside of the diner was much the same, looking like someone had knocked down the walls of a standard 2-bedroom home and filled it with a few tables and chairs to make the front rooms into a seating area. Despite its small size, the place wasn't particularly cozy. It was partially their fault for wandering in at the crack of dawn when there were no other customers to give the place a warm, welcoming vibe, but Danny wasn't sure the presence of a few more people would've offset the flickering light fixtures and excessive amount of rooster statues and paintings.

Still, Danny was hungry, and no amount of red flags would've stopped him from at least ordering a cup of coffee to keep him going for a few more hours. Tucker and Sam were more adventurous, ordering actual food and forcing him to get something as well. Rosie, the waitress and the only other person they'd seen that morning, seemed to find their nagging amusing.

She came back with a decanter full of coffee, a smile on her face despite the early morning.

"So, what brings you three to Platwoods? I haven't seen your faces around here before," Rosie asked. Danny couldn't place her age if there was a gun to his head. She had that "old, but probably has better knees than you" look that came with people who are always on their feet, so… anywhere from 50 to 100.

He let Sam and Tucker do the talking, busying himself with pouring out coffee for the table. He was too distracted by the chill seeping into his chest to do much else. Bit early in the morning for ghosts, but at least it meant he wouldn't have to wait.

Tucker got that look on his face that he was all too familiar with - time to lay on the Tucker charm. Or, try. "We heard there might be a ghost problem in the area. Do you know anything about that?"

Danny was so used to Tucker's "charisma" being laughable at best, he wasn't expecting actual charm. But against all odds, there it was: the bright smile, the warm voice, the hands placed carefully like any small change would have ruined the entire facade. If he didn't know better, he would've thought Tucker had gone into politics, not cybersecurity.

"I s'pose we do have ghosts, sure. Not that I'd call them a problem." Rosie's cheerful tone wavered a bit. "You're not one of those California kids, are you? Hollerin' around in the dead of night, tryin' to wake the dead-"

"- No ma'am, we're just researching the history-"

"- for our short film," Sam added. "It's about the history and culture of the towns in the area. The ghost stuff is just a small part. Do you know anyone we could interview about their life growing up here?"

"Eddie Scott runs a little museum downtown. Once you get him started, you're gonna have a hard time shuttin' him up. Food should be ready, I'll be right back."

Rosie went into the back through two saloon-style doors. As she left, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding. It came out cold, and visible enough that Tucker and Sam didn't even miss a beat when he muttered under his breath,

"She's possessed."

Tucker relaxed. "Ghost problem indeed."

"So how do we want to handle this?" Sam warmed her hands around her coffee mug. "God, I forgot how cold it gets when you're in the zone."

"Sorry. Not used to doing this with other people around anymore."

He exhaled, pushing all the cold that radiated from his core into his breath. For a brief moment, it looked like he'd just stumbled out of a freezer. Then everything settled, and Danny was pretty confident he had a semi-normal temperature again.

"Better?"

Sam nodded. "Much better."

He looked over to Tucker to find that his friend was giving a nasty look to something over his shoulder. Danny turned and saw in the window a white truck with a familiar marking on the side driving slowly through the street. It was pristine, as expected from the G.I.W., and so out of place among the rusted bumpers and faded paint of the cars parked on the side of the street.

"Danny, quit it," Sam whispered, nudging his foot. It was only then that he realized he was hissing under his breath. Damn it. He'd never been good at separating Fenton from Phantom as a kid. Never got better over time, really. The people of Amity Park just learned to accept the eccentricities of his family, and Danny as just another product of whatever curse had befallen the Fenton bloodline. He got away with a lot: hissing at Dash, forgetting to blink as often as he should, wandering the town in the dead of night. It was all just another quirk that could be brushed off.

Now he'd actually have to try to act normal. He cleared his throat to cut off another fresh bout of hissing. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"You know 'em too?" Rosie appeared suddenly at their table, a tray in hand. Danny nearly jumped out of his skin - literally. That would've been a disaster. She passed out the plates and set the tray on a nearby table, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

Tucker didn't have the time to ease into a more charismatic facade, his voice cracking about halfway through. "Y-yeah, they came to our hometown… must've been eight years ago? Danny, are they still around?"

"Yep." He didn't bother disguising the bite in his tone.

"Damn, I was hoping you'd know how the hell to get rid of 'em. Folks are gettin' antsy. I figure it's only a matter of time before something bad happens."

"Do you know why they came here in the first place?" Sam asked.

"Some detective went missing, couple weeks ago. Suddenly you can't go nowhere in town without seeing some bigshot in a white suit. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out."

Danny wasn't a fan of the G.I.W., and this ghost could tear them a new one for all he cared, but he really didn't want to watch another town dragged into a turf war between the undead and the federal government.

"While you're in town, I'd steer clear of them if I were you," Rosie muttered under her breath, looking between the window, then at Danny. "They don't like folks like us."

A sleepy town, a missing detective, a ghost problem, and the G.I.W. They might have been hundreds of miles from Amity Park, but it felt just like home.