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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
reallydumbdannyphantomaus

“Hey Danny,” Tucker said over the din of the cafeteria, “are your ectoblasts hot or cold?”

Danny glanced up from his lunch. “They don’t feel hot to me.”

“Fair, but they’re your powers. It makes sense they wouldn’t burn you. Plus, they always leave scorch marks on the ground and stuff.”

“Yeah, but,” Danny said, then paused, stumped. “Okay, I don’t actually have an answer for you.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Tucker said with a grin, “so I’ve got the perfect plan to find out.”

It had been a long day for Edward Lancer.

Daniel Fenton had slept through his class, again. Dash Baxter had turned in homework that clearly was written by Mikey, but neither of them would admit it, again. Sam Manson had released all the worms from the science lab and was serving lunch detention. Again.

He needed a coffee.

He strode down the hallway, rubbing his temples and pushed open the doors to the teachers’ lounge. Without looking up, he busied himself at the coffee station, pouring cream and sugar without looking, stirring twice, and gulping half of it down at once. He refilled, stirred, and turned to leave.

And he found himself face to face with Daniel Fenton and Tucker Foley. Mr. Foley was holding two halves of an eggshell over Mr. Fenton’s ectoplasmic green hand. The egg itself sizzled in the green energy.

The three men stared at each other.

“Mr. Foley.”

“Mr. Lancer,” Mr. Foley said.

“Mr. Fenton.”

“Mr. Lancer,” Mr. Fenton said.

Lancer opened his mouth and closed it a couple of times. “Well. Then. As you were.”

Mr. Fenton’s voice cracked. “You, too, Mr. Lancer.”

@phandomphightclub

round 2 the phight they're dumbasses harold danny phantom