Goodneighbor. A place that used to be known as Scollay Square before the bombs fell. To be considered a town in a nuclear wasteland one didn't have to have a population that numerous. So, here it was, one would say that this is second most populated area in post-war Boston, which, once again, was not a title many would be proud of. Diamond City was nearby, and the immigrants preferred to flock to that...more civil place. To somehow rephrase one sultan of old, what would you expect of lowlifes, raised by criminals. It was the latter category which made up a huge part of the town. It was the town where every guy could gut you without repercussions. And yet, somehow this kleptocracy led by extravagant and irreplaceable mayor survived. And he resided within the Old State House, a place twice as old as one certain ghost.

Above-mentioned mayor was John Hancock. It wasn't his birth name, but the name of the past hero was just what the otherwise unpresentable physically man would need. Now, sitting in his 'office', playing poker with his henchmen, the sentient ghoul was occupied. The room was spacious enough, but dirty. To this radiation could not be held responsible. It wasn't the one to scatter the bottles and packages of pre-war snacks that only one person around could eat. In the centre of the room, under a fan chandelier, was a table where the game itself was being held among five people. Two guards were standing at the doors just in case. They weren't that needed. Everyone present had a gun of their own.

"And this, gentlemen, is what we call Royal Flush," Hancock smirked, revealing his cards and making everyone groan, "Oh, don't be like that. One has to be able to lose."

"You always win, Hancock," one of the men groaned, "At this rate nobody would want to play with you."

"Bah, don't be like that..."

Soon the doors opened, and the mayor's right hand entered the room. She had that punk aura around her, with half of her hair fully cut. Dressed in a self-made armour, with a newspaper in her hand, she went forth without any concern.

"Hey, what gives, Fahrenheit?" Hancock asked as the list of paper was dropped before him.

"Your special delivery. Better read it."

"Now, what could that be...is this Diamond City newspaper?" The mayor raised his voice.

"Just read. I've heard McDonough hates those reporters, so..." Fahrenheit shrugged. "They even scrapped a camera somewhere."

Minutemen, a dream reborn
By the main editor Piper Wright

The Commonwealth is no stranger to different cliques all around, this much is obvious. Triggermen, raider gangs, now the Brotherhood of Steel. But one group in particular has always received main interest of the public. Minutemen, an organisation that once gave birth to the country that perished in the nuclear fire. Not without multiple obstacles, they fought tooth and nail for the people of the wasteland, before being decimated themselves, falling victims to the selfishness and greed of its leaders. Now, it seems, the phoenix is reborn for the third time in history. Led by their new general Daniel Fenton, who appears to be a very young man and came from the place unknown to even his closest circle, the organisation has seen its change from a ragtag structure to a quasi-state organisation in but a couple of weeks. Discipline is heavily enforced among both the soldiers and civilians. Northwestern, Northern and Western settlements outside of city borders have already recognised the general as their leader, thus accepting a unified set of laws. Our redaction has managed to get a peek at the meeting with General Fenton, below is the retelling of the most interesting words said before the settlement council, a legislative body of their organisation.

"There is nothing more important to us than the actions of today," says the general, "Bygones are to remain bygones. Our Commonwealth is to offer great opportunities for peaceful lives. For that purpose we are to forget and forgive every wayward soul who will come to our lands. However, it does not mean that we are to let the offences to our people slide. The punishment for the crimes made today is to be done..... Concerning the further expansion... we are in need of allies, we do not seek mere recognition. Our actions have done enough for us to be acknowledged. As the Brotherhood of Steel threatens us, we must make our stand. It is the offer to each and every settlement, no matter the size. We, in exchange offering an unparalleled protection and representation, are merely requesting that you give it your resolve. Join us, and we will make Commonwealth the shining jewel of the resurrecting world!"

Diamond City, and the administration of Mayor McDonough has already denounced the minutemen, claiming that "they are only a gang of scoundrels dressed in shiny clothing". Brotherhood refuses to give any acknowledgement of their existence, while the famous Vault 88 is granting the organisation an access to its pre-war relicts. What it is exactly, the redaction does not know...

"So that's the lad, huh?" The mayor asked, looking at the proud photo of the young man in question. He was standing at the tribune, with his bodyguards in power armour. "Doesn't look like much."

"I've heard he took down Mathis's gang all by himself!"

"Yeah, and he also stole some power armours from the Brotherhood. Jeez, that kid is a killing machine... you don't think he is a synth, do you?"

Hancock remained silent for a while, and his right hand noticed.

"You are not seriously considering joining them?" Fahrenheit asked.

"Nah, goody-two-shoes are not really my thing. Unless there is some ulterior motive, heh. Then I will join in. Or maybe I should... just to spite that round baboon for a mayor."

His henchmen laughed alongside him. Hancock meanwhile looked back on the newspaper. The next article caught his attention yet again. The ghoul began to consider buying a subscription to this one. This one was quite odd. It was the interview from one guy, one of those lunatics that lived in the Glowing Sea. He, along with his flock, settled close to Diamond City, not being allowed in. They were telling strange stories about the new beings dwelling there. They were glowing, armed to teeth, not to mention possessing near invulnerability to every gun in the possession of the villagers. They were driven out of their radiation-infested dwelling, forced to leave their homes due to the attacks from those 'ghosts'. Supplied by the Minutemen, they managed to make it to the jewel of the Commonwealth.

Some claimed that they could understand those glowing creatures. And by their accounts, they were led by a mysterious 'King Phantom' who was yet to make appearance.

"Just what the hell is that?" Hancock mumbled.

What the mayor did not know was the fact that the subject of both articles was right there, in the town. The entrance was rather shabby. Seriously, a door inside a wooden barricade was just stupid. Dressed in normal wasteland road leathers, wearing a hat because he wanted to, and having a pistol on his belt so as to not look suspicious, Danny was indistinguishable from the locals. Of course, he had to go alone. Everyone knew about Fenton's green dog. What was his goal in this wonderful place? First he had to scout this place for anything useful. Only then, when Hancock would prove to be amiable to his suggestions, would he make an official visit. Besides... there was one place he wanted to visit there. A place quite famous, actually.

"Hey, look who we have here," a voice called Danny's attention. The not-so-young man froze, "First time in Goodneighbor? You can't go around the place without insurance."

It was said by some shady looking bald guy. Phantom raised his hands slightly.

"I think I will manage, thank you, kind sir," he said in his cheerful manner, trying to go his way.

Only to be abruptly stopped by his newest nuisance. Danny groaned inwardly.

"I insist, boy. Never know what can be waiting around the corner."

"The only thing waiting for me there is someone who is not pestering me for nothing," Phantom kept smiling. "That's why our ways should part, pal. What are you doing? Think I don't see you reaching for a knife?"

The man stopped for a moment, he didn't even have time to blink before a gun was pointed at his face. The people around watched in curiosity at how this newbie handled the threat. Someone even cheered.

"Come on, lad, bust his brains out! Finn is a pain in our asses."

"How charming, Jeremy," Finn mumbled, slowly raising his hands. "Let's not get hasty here, kid," he said nervously.

"It is a charming town, really," Danny commented, "Walker would have had a lot of fun here, I believe."

"Who is..."

"A warden of one prison. I got incarcerated there once when I was fourteen. Staged a riot and escaped the following day. The guy is still sore. So tell me. Which way is Memory Den?"

In a town full of bandits, Danny had to look like one and be respected in their own twisted way.

"Just go down this road. There is that neon sign you won't miss. Why would you need to go there? You are still a kid."

"Really now," Danny's look darkened as he removed the pistol from the man's face, "Don't be so quick to jump into conclusions."

With that the half ghost went forward, towards his objective. The town was...surprisingly good looking for something run by gangsters. Although, there wasn't much to break either. The beauty of the old, mixed with a tiny pinch of art-deco, was astounding really. Why did people stop building these in favour of that giant monstrosities that didn't even look futuristic? That's what Phantom liked about his wonderful kingdom. Infinite space allowed for great experiments, and conservative nature of the undead preserved the older styles, not those appalling ones. Maybe those unneeded skyscrapers could be...removed in the future. Nobody had any need for them.

Soon Danny made it. Memory Den was indeed hard to miss. Once inside the building, Phantom noticed nice details of interior there and there. It was hard to make anything look presentable in this world. The main hall was filled with some strange pods. They had soft armchairs inside, and a tv-like thing hanging in front of them.

"Oh, a visitor!"

The woman who said had that 'mistress' air around her. Lying on a sofa in the far end of the room, the blond, aged lady was smoking and looking right at him. Danny, polite as he could be, bowed a little theatrically.

"Good evening, madame. I hope I am not interrupting anything," he smiled and approached her.

The lady laughed slightly, "Oh, you are such a sweetheart. I can tell you are not from around here. Sadly, all our pods are scheduled for a week ahead. I'm afraid you won't be able to enjoy it until then."

Phantom nodded soberly, "I understand. A pity, truly. Is there a way I could...change your mind? Of course, such a lovely woman has everything she needs, but... I cannot help but wonder."

He was not into women that LOOKED much older than him, but one could allow some flattery. The mistress laughed again.

"I'm afraid not, we do value the wishes of our customers. But why would anyone like you ever want a memory pod?"

"I do have some distant memories I would like to dig a tad deeper. If I said I'm almost three centuries old would you believe me?"

"Well... you can convince someone to let you use the pod instead," she avoided answering his strange question, "Kent is a kind soul, even if he is hooked on those. Try asking him. He is in that room to the left."

Danny nodded and went to where she was pointing at. While he was at the door he could already hear some man talking lively on the other side. Politely knocking, Phantom then entered the room.

"Oh, is my pod ready?"

The voice belonged to a ghoul sitting in the other end of the small room near the mic and radio. He was dressed in an old, worn suit and hat. Somehow, the guy's face, without a single piece of single skin or a nose, looked so non-threatening that it was quite surprising. Something in the man's tired bloodshot eyes completed the image. But it wasn't only the ghoul's look that got Danny's attention. It was the merchandise collected around Boston and assembled here: posters, figurines... plushies... of his ghostly counterpart. Danny didn't know whether he should be amazed at seeing his obvious fan, or be uncomfortable with the amount of attention.

"Yeah, about that," Danny chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, "You are Kent, right?"

"Yes, that would be me," the ghoul smiled, "Is there something I could do for you?" He saw his guest curiously eyeing his collection.

"Took me years to collect all of those. I'm a big fan of Danny Phantom, you know. Oh, who am I kidding. Very few remember."

"And what's so special about it?"

"I'm very old, I remember the times before the war. He was the only real superhero in the entire world! Not a comic book character, not some fiction. And that's the most amazing thing. He saved me and my parents once, when I was a kid, and I have been his fan ever since."

Danny smiled. If only the man knew who he was talking to right now.

"You think I am a joke, don't you?" Kent's expression darkened, as he had misinterpreted the smile.

"No. Of course not," Phantom sat nearby, his present goal forgotten, "Please, continue. It's just that your enthusiasm is very contagious. I couldn't help but smile myself."

Kent beamed again, "There have been so many times he saved our world: a giant plant beast, the creature controlling the weather and causing typhoons all across the world, he even stopped a meteor crushing into our planet once! All of those stories I carefully cherish here," the ghoul pointed at his head, "And I have even collected audio versions of his adventures, narrated and voiced by the greatest actors of the time. Those are amazing, look, I've got "Public Enemies", "Prisoners of love", "Pirate Radio"..."

'I don't recall giving my consent to those,' Danny grumbled mentally.

Kent just kept rambling, telling excitedly about his collection, happy to find someone who would listen.

The ghoul sighed happily, putting away the cassettes. "We could use him nowadays, you know. With the world in shambles, who is better to protect us than the Ghostboy himself? This is a hope that I hold dear."

"Well, not that much of a 'boy' now," Danny mumbled. "He must be several centuries old by now."

"Yeah, but ghosts are not supposed to age, right? He must look the same as he did before... if he is still around."

Phantom sensed dismay in the man's words, "You don't believe in it?"

"I do believe," Kent sighed, "Everyone needs a straw on which to hold, you know? But still, why would he abandon us like this?"

Danny felt a pang in his core. Why did he? And what could he do to prevent a nuclear war? Speak to the UN and use his decades' long authority to talk some sense into the big shots around? Like anybody would listen to one costumed freak from another world. And why would they listen to the dead in matters of not dying? And like he had the power to stop the blasts from occurring. Still, those were excuses, they couldn't do anything to ease the burden. The core demanding nourishment was lacking it at the moment, being so sensitive to this.

"Because he had nothing holding him to this world," Phantom responded sadly, putting a hand over his throbbing source of power. "Ghosts are like this. When there is nothing holding them back here, they pass on. Or settle in their own little place in the Purgatory."

"You... sound very confident. Oh, are you an expert on ghosts or something? That's great!" Kent smiled even brighter.

"Yeah..." Danny smiled too. This ghoul did seem like a reliable guy, maybe he could at least sate one man's dreams to ease his own pain and do a good thing, "Tell me, Kent, how good are you at keeping secrets?"

"I've learned that secrets are to be kept in order for the people to be safe," he said proudly, obviously quoting something.

"Then, look at me closely," Danny took off the hat and stood near the poster. "Notice anything?"

Kent scrutinised his eyes, they moved from the picture to the young man nonstop. "Ehm...what am I supposed to see?" He asked.

"Huh, guess the people cannot figure some things still. Well, now is a little tip."

Danny's eyes flared green. At seeing this Kent jumped on his spot, backtracking until he hit the wall. Phantom's eyes immediately returned to normal as he went to check up on the man, who had literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh my god! It... It's YOU!" Kent exclaimed in excitement. "I... sorry for the mess, oh dear. It's such an honour meeting you..."

"Shh," Danny put a palm over Kent's mouth, "You want everyone to hear?" He asked.

"Sorry. I am just so excited that I am meeting my hero! What were the odds?"

"Not big, but here we are," Danny shrugged.

"What are you doing here? Where have you been all this time?"

"You do know about Pariah?"

"Yes, the episode 'Reign Storm', the Ghost King who reigned centuries ago!" Kent responded like a boy answering in class.

"I am quite concerned with the level of knowledge the creators had," Danny deadpanned, "Anyway, I got a new responsibility — I took Pariah's place as the Undead Sovereign," Danny showed him the green ring on the finger. Kent recognised it immediately. "You can guess I've been busy during these centuries. Now... I am on a vacation of sorts. Adventures and such, uniting the Commonwealth and bringing order is quite interesting."

"That's... so... amazing. Oh, just a question. How did the romance with Samantha go, if it's okay with you? I shipped you two," Kent said so quietly that even Danny was unable to make out the last part.

Danny responded with a sad smile. Sam did become Lois Lane of sorts to the rest of the world. Lois Lane that could beat the ghost herself if she wanted. That's why many people thought that they were dating.

"We... we didn't hit it off, you know. The fact that I won't die of old age really hit us hard. That's why we decided to not go that way," he mumbled, "She was still the most amazing woman I have ever met."

"I had no idea... sorry for asking, sir."

"Don't be. I would be a fool to ponder on it for centuries and be hurt over a mere mention."

"You have stopped, yes. But are you moving forward?" Kent asked, "If I am allowed to change the subject... Your Majesty... Goodneighbor needs your help. It may be a city run by bandits, filled with bandits, but there is still a fair share of innocent people who need protection. Any vigilante will end up shot in an alleyway. They need Phantom, the one who is strong enough. If it isn't too much to ask..."

"So basically, you want me to halt my plans to fight some bandits just like in old good days?" Danny smirked, "I am in. I don't need to sleep, so I can be around at all times after the sun sets."

"That's wonderful! Do you have anything that can receive radio signals?"

In response Danny tapped on a walkie-talkie.

"Then you will be able to receive messages from me. Just stay connected to the 106.2 frequency. I will inform you of all crimes being committed and which you can prevent. Bad guys, your doom nears!"

The rest of the day was spent not in the pod, but on one of the rooftops. The frequency Kent gave him was indeed dedicated to the half ghost. Danny was just listening to what was there, and, to be frank, he was left astonished at the level of details. It was like the makers actually were there. From what Kent had told him, the scenarists interviewed the witnesses, going as far as asking the oldest residents of Amity Park about the first appearances of the Ghost boy. Such hardworking people they were. Shame they didn't bother to ask the one who could tell them about every single adventure. But boy, was it something.

'From darkest night, from deepest fear, your doom is coming near, Phantom!'

'Same old, same old,' Danny's voice actor was heard, before the whooshing sound of Fenton thermos was heard, 'All in a day's work.'

'You have performed outstandingly, sir,' another voice sounded, 'But you should probably hurry for the gala if you are to get there in time.'

'Yes, Foley, you are right, get ready the car, I have to keep pretences among humans.'

The real Danny burst into laughter, rolling on his back. Tucker was his CHAUFFEUR?! Oh, that was just priceless. He needed more. So they still didn't know about his human half, eh? Well, good to know. To their mind Phantom was a rich extravagant guy during the day. Danny lost the rope for several minutes, but he began listening just in time.

'You surely take your time, Mr. Felton.'

That was too close for comfort. Danny stopped laughing.

'What can I say, Miss Manson, I have a job to do. Now how about we find a nice corner for just two of us...'

A slap.

'I'd rather kiss that turkey they serve for dinner.'

That part of the plot Danny didn't quite get, because radio offered little scenery. Apparently Sam was in love with his ghostly side, the side that acted like a true hero, and when it came to being a spoiled rich guy she was losing most of her sympathies. Because she didn't know about them being the same person. Why the people couldn't figure out the identity so easily? Back to the plot, it was supposed to be their rekindled evening. But Phantom turned up late because of his hero business. And they were again at square one. The real Danny sighed. The real story would have made much more drama than that.

Deciding to put away the listening material, Phantom got up and decided to take a look around Goodneighbor. Assuming his ghostly side, Danny flew around invisibly. Then he had it. Behind the local luxurious hotel, in an alleyway, a crime was being committed. From what Phantom had learned, it was Wayne Delancy, a known murderer, who was assaulting a young woman, who was screaming in vain.

"Help! Someone!" She cried with a teared up face.

"Shut up, you bitch!" Wayne hit her with a barrel of his pistol, "Now, where are the money," he pulled the poor girl by her hair. "You owe Shinjin big. I count to three."

"I doubt you will be able to count till then."

"Who is the smartass..."

Wayne turned around, only to jump in surprise. A glowing white-haired person was staring into him with its burning green eyes. And he was FLOATING, as if lying in the air.

"Wh-who the hell are you?!" The murderer exclaimed, pointing a pistol at the creature.

"What's wrong? You look like you have seen a ghost," Danny chuckled coldly. "I am Phantom. I think you've heard about me, haven't you?" He floated closer, before stepping on the ground.

"That freak from the radio?! That's...that's impossible! Ghosts don't exist!" Wayne began to shake more, disbelieving his words himself.

"Oh, believe me, they do, one of them is standing before you and is extremely pissed! Were you the one to kill Miss Selmey?"

"S-Selmy? Yeah, I killed the bitch. And her welp, too. Shouldn't have bothered they barely had two caps between them."

Several shots were made. And the hitman watched in horror how the being ignored the holes in his body, leaking green liquid.

"Sorry to disappoint you... but those things," Danny outstretched his hand, "They don't work on me."

Then Phantom's hand glowed, the man screamed, before being hit by an ectoblast so strong that it burned him alive. The smoking corpse fell on the ground. Looking at the shocked woman, who whimpered before him, lying in a puddle, Danny noticed fear within her eyes.

"Don't worry," he said, "You are not the criminal here. Did he...do anything apart from what I've seen?"

She didn't answer directly, just shaking her head. Phantom sighed.

"Well, that is a relief. He mentioned Shinjin, who is he?"

"A crime lord," she whispered curtly. Then she saw a gloved hand in front of her eyes. Looking up, she saw a soft, almost boyish smile. That smile alone made her take the offer. Gently the ghost helped her up.

"Will you make it home on your own?"

"Y-yes... thank you, thank you, sir. Are...are you really Phantom?"

"One and only, miss," Danny bowed theatrically. "Make sure that everyone knows about it."

"They won't believe me."

"Give it time. They will believe."

With that the lady ran away. She was afraid of him still, and that was to be expected. Phantom looked at the smoking corpse near him. Danny disliked killing, that was correct. But he wasn't going to be in Goodneighbor forever. And he had to teach those bastards a lesson before he left.