Words could change, maybe even shape worlds if used properly – or if one possessed Ghostwriter's keyboard. Without that device, their power would be only derived from the impact they had on people's minds, the messages they sent to those that are interested, the images of impossible, improbable or just fascinating things they provided. With it, words built and knocked down reality, shaping it into another form or just exploiting all the opportunities for change and mischief.
Power: Ghostwriter had it and liked it. There's something about being able to conjure anything – whether in the mind or real life – that constantly thrills anyone with the ability. No wonder the word "orange" bothers anyone who ever tried to use it in a rhyme.
That train of thought lead to some very… infuriating memories involving Daniel Phantom or Fenton, depending on the half that one's familiar with. Their conflict had been resolved a day after it started, yet there were times when embers of fury still stirred in Ghostwriter, times when he longed for the story that Daniel destroyed, times when the replacement story seemed absolutely inadequate.
He sighed, and focused his attention on another part of the United States of America, one without any ghost portals, as far as he knew, anyway. Dakota. That state possessed its own more-than-human anomalies and abnormalities, but at least the ones over there did not burst into the Ghost Zone and destroy precious Christmas stories.
Instead, the anomalies and abnormalities were Bang Babies. Based on the name alone, one might believe they were the results of gang rapes (no, but some of them could be. Who knows?) or babies that go boom (maybe some of them were). Yet, the name did not say everything. The name did not tell the tale of the explosion; of the hazma gas that changed anyone it touched into superheroes, super villains or just super people. It did not tell of the other name given to the people blessed or cursed with those powers: metahumans. The power of words reached its limit when it tried to create terms that say everything about what they refer to.
Ghostwriter, furious at his thoughts for containing exposition and nothing else, sighed. He was not going to attempt an exposition-only story today or even consider whether such a thing could be done. Instead, he focused on Gear and Static.
The duo floated above the city, near each other in a way easily recognized as intimate. Their outfits overlapped and touched each other, Static's blue and yellow on Gear's white and green. So, it barely was a surprise when the heroes kissed, in a movement that only brought them closer together. It lasted a while, and they ignored almost everything else – including whatever they had just saved from certain doom – for the entire duration of that time.
When it finished, Static headed toward the centre of the city and Gear followed him, only a few millimeters behind.
Grinning, Static announced to Gear, "And the only interracial, gay, metahuman, superhero couple saved the world again!" He sighed bitterly, realizing the implications of the word "only."
"You wish there was more representation, right?" Gear replied, knowing the ways of his boyfriend's mind and the wishes of his heart.
"Yeah. There are still people out there that don't accept all or some of that, people that don't think they can be heroes." Static frowned, gazing down at the place that he and Gear had just protected. "People that don't think this can work."
"Well, there are gay superheroes, metahuman superheroes and interracial super teams and couples, V," Gear said in a soft, lightening tone. "We're just the only ones with it all in one package."
"You're right about that." Static admitted, grinning sheepishly. "Maybe it's just that lack of representation is something that I've encountered a lot."
"How about we pause this discussion until we're standing on solid ground?" Gear suggested. "And not in our costumes." He blushed, letting out a little laugh. "Or bed, either."
Their flight continued. Many buildings and streets passed beneath Static's disc and Gear's rocket boots. With his advanced technology, Gear could zoom in and check out the activity going on below, but with Static nearby, well, why the heck would he want to?
Once they reached a rather old and grey gas station, they swooped into the said building. Landing was accomplished in a smooth movement and the removal of their costumes was done just as efficiently. After saving the world for four years and truly realizing the value of their powers during the second, they had enough practice to make the easiness an expected thing.
"Call for Richie Foley," announced a machine. "From Sean Foley. Reply?"
"Not now. Definitely after Virgil and I finish our conversation about issues that he really isn't that fond of." Gear groaned, wondering if his dad attributed all his mysterious absences to romantic activities with Virgil aka Static (though his dad did not know that Virgil went by the name of Static when he saved the world.)
Ghostwriter's expression became one of cunning and satisfaction. Gear: a Foley and a smart sidekick; Tucker: a Foley and a smart sidekick. He considered it, thinking of the ways he could play with it. An idea came to him, as a natural reward for thinking.
Tucker, amazed by Danny, his boyfriend, as always, watched the hero from the ground, holding a Fenton ghost-weapon he had improved – or attempted to, anyway – and feeling both utterly attached and detached. Helping on the ground, using ghost-weapons instead of powers… useful, though limited and unable to raise his popularity. Since Danny couldn't reveal his identity and his companions would be perceived oddly if they kept leaving wherever they were at the time for no apparent reason, Tucker and Sam had to help him less than they used to and removed themselves from sight when they did so.
The ghost, frozen by an attack Danny learnt in the Ghost Zone, dropped from the sky and was sucked into the Fenton Thermos, held by Sam (who crouched behind a bush.) In an invisible rush, Danny flew to her and picked up the Fenton Thermos.
Danny Phantom, hero of both of his two worlds, then swooped over to him, Fenton Thermos in hand. "Hey, let's go! I think the ghosts have all been taken care of… for now."
Tucker smiled. "Finally! Some of the ghost fights seem to go on forever…" Especially since neither him nor Sam was really in the action anymore. He knew neither of them had the powers for fighting ghosts with Danny's method, but… Tucker didn't finish the thought, considering it to be unreasonable jealousy of powers he – according to Danny and Sam, at least – shouldn't have. Maybe even according to the rest of the world. After all, pretty much everyone that didn't know assumed that Danny chose or would choose Sam, the girl he had an infatuation with as a fourteen to fifteen year-old, one of their friends.
Even to Tucker and the others aware of it, the truth was surprising. Perhaps that was part of why Danny, always trying to make the world think he was a normal young adult, had refused to tell anyone.
"Uh, sorry about that. My ghostly duties shouldn't do that to anyone else's life. It sucks enough when they do it to my own."
And Ghostwriter, having finished typing the sentence on his keyboard, watched as both the Foleys shined with ghostly auras and appeared in the place of each other. The results, Ghostwriter decided, would be shown in the next chapter. It would be more dramatic that way.