"So there's good news and bad news," said Tucker, looking up from his computer as Danny entered his bedroom after an exhausting day of 'keep away from Conan.' "I tried searching him up using katakana for Conan's name 'cause it's English, and there's a ton of public records on him. He's been mentioned in a million and one newspaper articles. But...they're all in Japanese, which is a bit of a problem. And look at the pictures—I don't know about you, but to me, it sure looks like something serious."

"That doesn't sound good," Danny grumbled. "Let me see."

He leaned over to get a closer look at the pictures. Sure enough, they were all either important-looking people or places covered in police tape. He took notice of the dates of a few and raised an eyebrow. All 1996 to mid-1999.

Tucker looked back at the screen and frowned. "You looking at the dates? I thought it was weird too. I mean, we were little kids then. Why would he be involved in so much police activity?"

Danny wrung his hands. "I don't know. And I really don't like it."

The idea that a ghost hunter had caught wind of his identity plagued him to no end. Danny honestly had no idea what he was going to do if he were found out. Would his parents come "take him apart molecule by molecule?" Would he be captured like an animal for "research?" Part of him couldn't believe that anyone would have the heart to do such a thing, but the other part couldn't afford not to.

Seeming to sense his thoughts, Tucker closed out of the newspaper scans and stood up, taking a moment to stretch. "Don't worry, man. We'll figure it out. We always do. In the meantime..." He grinned as he snatched a PS2 controller off the table. "You wanna play Baldur's Gate?"

Danny chuckled, taking it. "Yeah, all right. But dibs on playing Adrianna."

"No fair!"

An hour later, as they fought their way through hordes of digital monsters, Danny's Fenton Phones beeped.

"What's up?" he asked, pausing the game and setting the speaker all the way up. Tucker leaned in to hear.

First of all, you guys better not be playing Baldur's Gate without me. We agreed on a rotation and it's my turn," Sam started. Danny and Tucker glanced at each other sheepishly before Tucker moved to save and quit. "But anyway, I wanted to know if you needed any help with finding out about this Conan guy since I'm grounded anyways."

Head tilted, Danny puffed out his cheeks in thought. "Tuck found a bunch of newspapers that mention him, but they're all in Japanese. So I don't know what we can do."

"Tucker, I'm assuming you're listening, so email me the images you need translated. I'll hire a translator to do it."

"I always forget she's loaded," Tucker murmured. "All right, Sam. Thanks."

"Team Phantom, am I right? I'll see you guys at school tomorrow. Keep me posted on any ghost activity unless it's the Box Ghost, in which case don't bother."

"Can do. Talk to you later."

The call ended with a click just in time for a very familiar (and grating, and obnoxious, and aggravating, and—well, Danny could go on for a while) voice to shout "BEWARE!"

With a groan, Danny switched to ghost form, Tucker following with a Fenton Thermos in hand.

The next morning, Danny's eye bags immediately darkened ten shades as soon as he laid eyes on Mr. Lancer proclaiming Casper High to be the best school ever, with a woo, school spirit! He sure the hell did not have energy for that, or the weird friendliness Conan was suddenly putting on around him for the past few days.

"Good morning," came a voice behind them. Speak of the devil. He, Sam, and Tucker all turned around to see Amity Park's resident nosypants standing there with an uncertain look on his face. Awesome. Just the person Danny wanted to see to brighten up his lovely morning. "How...are you today?" Ah, there it was. The forced smile.

"Last time I checked, that wasn't your business. Shove off," Sam demanded, shooing Conan away with her hand before Danny could say anything. He loved his friends.

Well, Conan at least had the grace to look embarrassed.

Then, Danny's ghost sense went off, and he whispered a thanks to Sam before heading off towards the source, arriving at the new counselor's office. Oh, perfect. It was another one of those blob ghosts causing trouble for no reason. A pretty standard fight ensued, but of course, Danny was a world class screw-up, and the thing got away. He made a noise of frustration as he landed and switched to human form.

Naturally, just as he did this, Mr. Lancer burst into the room with Jazz. Cringing, Danny got a proper look at the collateral damage done. Most of the furniture was broken and it was all strewn everywhere like a tornado had just hit the office. The solution, according to Mr. Lancer? Counseling sessions. There were few things Danny had ever wanted to do less in his life.

An hour later, he sat in the icebox of a room across from one Dr. Spectra, who sat there eerily still with a wide grin frozen on her face. But everything that came out of her mouth with that over the top peppy attitude of hers stung. She sniffed out his insecurities like a bloodhound and picked at them until they were raw, but hey, she was a psychologist, right? Even so, it all felt like a slap in the face. Jazz had called him a baby. And a loser. And well...apparently, he wasn't worth anything to anyone.

But then again. That shouldn't be news to him.

As the minutes ticked by in that freezing, broken office he only felt worse.

And worse.

And worse.

Who was he to think he had even had halfway enough ability to call himself the protector of Amity Park? He wasn't even good at it. He couldn't even get his human life straight.

It felt like five years had passed before Miss Spectra stood up and ushered him out of her office with a cheerful wave and a "And remember, Danny—'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me!'"

That sure didn't feel true, but what did he know?

Sighing, he turned away to make his way back to class. Miss Spectra motioned for Conan, who was waiting outside, to come in for his own meeting as he walked away, stuck in his mind in a cycle of misery.

As he shuffled into Mrs. Mattioli's room, Sam and Tucker looked up from Tucker's PDA and waved him over with a worried look.

"Danny, you're going to want to see this. Hina Wada, that's the translator I hired online, she sent one of the scans back and said she'd have the other ones in a couple more days. She asked me why I was interested in old cases. These articles—all of them are reports on murders."