"Everything go all right?" Jazz asked as Danny slid into the car, collapsing into the passenger seat.

"Yeah," he answered. "I think. He swore he wouldn't tell Ford anything."

"And you're sure you believe him?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I do. And, I mean, even if I didn't, not like there's much I can do about it. That was quite a gamble you took there."

"We're ghost hunters keeping deadly secrets from everyone from our own parents to the federal government; our whole life is a gamble. And it isn't as though leaps of faith haven't paid off before." She turned the key in the ignition and put her hand on the gear shift. "Seatbelt, Danny."

"Maybe I'd rather just keep it unbuckled. You know, as a leap of faith."

Jazz gave him a light shove. "Don't get smart. It doesn't suit you." She waited for him to relent and buckle up before she started driving. "You've got nothing to complain about, anyhow. It went well, didn't it? Having those two on our side will probably help keep Ford from managing to get on your tail as well. Dipper could probably intervene if he starts looking into Phantom. Sabotage his research or something."

"I dunno. Sure, he's not gonna help Ford with it, but I don't know if he'd go so far as messing up research. He seems like the type who'd have some kind of code of honor about that."

"Hm. Well, he could at least keep an eye out, let us know if Ford's onto anything. We can do the sabotaging ourselves."

Danny turned to look quizzically at her. "How so?"

"He keeps a lot of research and lab work in Mom and Dad's lab. We've got easy access if we need to change or dispose of anything."

"Wait, you're – you're really endorsing vandalizing someone's property?"

"If we need to, yes." She darted her eyes to him just long enough to catch the smirk on his face. "What's that look for?"

Danny's grin widened. "You're a bad influence on me, Jazz."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "I'm not, and you know it."

"You totally are. You are encouraging misconduct. You're an enabler for my misdeeds."

"Knock it off, Danny."

"Next you're going to try and convince me to take up smoking because all the cool kids are doing it."

"Don't even joke about that."

Danny snorted. "You're no fun. Oh, by the way, do you happen to know if Mom and Dad have plans to be out of the house for a while any time soon? Like, for an afternoon or something?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"I need a time for Dipper and Mabel to come over so I can give them a crash course on our ghost-hunting equipment."

"Wait, what?" Jazz stomped on the brakes, and Danny lurched forward in his seat. "You're bringing them onto the team?"

"Yeah, I was planning to," Danny said, raising a brow. "They've hunted ghosts and stuff before, so I just need to teach them about Amity-Park-style ghosts and how to work all the tech. Why're you bent out of shape about it?"

"I'm not, I – I just – " She chewed at her lip for a moment before continuing, "Isn't it a bit soon to be taking a step like that? We've known them for less than a week. You can't be sure how well they'd even mesh with the team. And – and besides, don't you think it'd be dangerous for them to have ghost-hunting equipment with them or at their place, giving Ford easier access?"

"I really don't think it's anywhere near as dangerous as having an entire house full of ghost-killing novelty items within such easy reach of our parents. Seriously, Jazz, what gives? I thought you were going to take a gamble on them."

"I know, but the gamble was sort of a saving throw, not an open invitation. I mean, really, it's right out of nowhere! Considering how much convincing it took you to even let me onto the team, I didn't expect you to start throwing membership around willy-nilly like that!"

"Wait," Danny said, holding up a hand. "That's why it bothers you? Because I let them in quicker than you?" He let out a bark of laughter. "Oh my god, Jazz, are you actually jealous?!"

"No!" Jazz snapped, but the pink tint seeping into her cheeks said otherwise.

"Holy cheese, Jazz! Wow! Wow. Oh my god, we need to psychoanalyze this, like, right now. Where do you think this envy is stemming from, Jazz? Do you want to talk about your childhood for a while? Maybe draw a picture of what you're feeling?"

Jazz started driving again with a huff. "I'd rather you just shut up, actually."

"Fine. For now. As a thank-you for driving me. But I am definitely going to be bringing this up every single time I deem it relevant from this day forward."

"Oh, hush." Despite the bitterness in her tone, she still allowed a hint of a smile for Danny. "You know, I'm glad to see talking things out with Dipper has put you in a bit of a better mood. You've been kinda pouty the past couple of days."

Danny shrugged. "Yeah, well, having a bunch of newcomers start trying to dig into your life secrets can be a bit of a mood killer." He paused for a moment, mouth fading from his grin into a more serious line. "Actually, I – I'm still sort of worried about that whole deal."

"About Dipper?"

"No, about the secret. The double-identity thing. It's just, Dipper got me thinking a bit." He shifted in his seat, leaning forward so Jazz could see him in her periphery without taking her eyes from the road. "We've been lucky so far, haven't we? Hiding it. The tiny handful of people who know about me and Phantom were either really close to me or wouldn't dare tell anyone. And then, just like that, some family moves into town and within a week one of them's figured it out. Well, not figured it out exactly, but definitely got close enough for it to be a problem."

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking… I dunno. Maybe I'm thinking we're kinda walking on thin ice or something? Like, Danny Phantom hasn't exactly been keeping a low profile, and even though Danny Fenton's not in the spotlight, it isn't as though there aren't people who are aware of his existence. How long's it going to be before someone whose seen human me and ghost me plenty of times to start putting the pieces together? It's not like my ghost form's a hideous monster or something; it's still recognizable as me. It's me-shaped. I just – " He ran a hand through his hair. "I wonder how long we're going to be able to keep this up before it goes up in flames."

Jazz pursed her lips together, drumming her fingers against her steering wheel as she seemed to be thinking it over. After several silent seconds, she finally asked, "Are you familiar with Henry Cavill? The actor?"

"… Oh, we're just switching topics now? Time for celebrity gossip?"

"No, I'm going somewhere with this," Jazz said, rolling her eyes. "Cavill's the guy who's currently playing Superman in all those movies. The Marvel universe or whatever."

"DC. And I don't watch those. Can't beat the original films."

"Not the point. The point is, apparently it's sort of a long-running joke about Superman, that there's no way that just wearing a pair of glasses would be a good enough disguise to work as a secret identity, because it must be so obvious that he and Clark Kent are the same person. But this actor guy thought that people were really overestimating their ability to recognize familiar faces. So he goes out to Time Square and he hangs around right near a billboard for his movie, and he doesn't even bother with glasses and even wears a Superman T-shirt. And no one recognized him."

Danny frowned. "So, um… what exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it is pretty incredible what people can fail to see even when it's right in front of their faces. I even read in one of my psychology journals – " She ignored Danny's groan. " – about a study some people did, at University of York I think, where participants tried to recognize if two photos were of the same person. And even with just one change, like adding glasses or shaving or hair dyeing or wearing a hat, people suddenly had much more trouble with it, and kept mistaking them for different people.

"And that was when people were actually looking for it, trying to recognize matching faces. With you and Phantom, no one's searching for similarities. No one's trying to figure out who Phantom's human form is, because, as far as all but half a dozen people in the world know, he doesn't have a human form to look for. No one has any reason to think there's any sort of disguising or secret identities going on. So even if Danny Phantom didn't have a different outfit and eye and hair colors and glowed green and had an echo-y voice and everything, people still probably wouldn't catch on if they weren't actually going out of their way to look for a connection."

"Okay," Danny said slowly. "But Dipper still – "

"Dipper's an outlier," Jazz said. "He's got this obsession for learning about the paranormal, and he's being raised by someone else with the same obsession. Not to mention, his first encounter with you involved you slipping up and reacting to a ghost weapon which meant he's been on the alert the whole time, and judging by what he and Stan were saying at dinner, he's fairly paranoid in the first place. I guess if anyone were to figure everything out, it would be him, but even he didn't actually come to the right conclusion on his own. He was digging into conspiracy theories, and I'm certain that if he'd tried to share his findings with anyone besides his immediate family, he would just sound like one of those tinfoil hats on the internet trying to create excitement where there isn't any. I mean, you saw that Bigfoot map in his room."

Danny's brow wrinkled in thought. "You know, now you've kinda got me wondering how many of those tinfoil hats might be onto something. Seeing as most of those theories aren't any more outlandish than my actual life. I'm gonna have to rethink some stuff."

"Sorry. Wasn't my intention. All I'm trying to say is, I don't want you to start worrying yourself sick over something that probably won't be a problem for you. You've got enough on your plate already, and it won't help anything."

"I know, but…" He took a deep breath. "I know Dipper and Ford are, like, a rare case, but they're not completely unique. There are other people out there who want to dive into paranormal conspiracy theories too. And if any of those people happen onto Amity Park, well – I'm just worried that the next Dipper Pines who comes along won't be able to be reasoned with."

Jazz sighed. "I know. I guess – I guess I get it. Look, I don't know how much we can do for that, but maybe next time we're together with Sam and Tucker, we can brainstorm. See if we can come up with some sort of protocol for handling, um, leaked information. It's not much, but it's something."

"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

Jazz gave him a small smile before removing her seatbelt and pushing open her door. "You getting out?"

Danny blinked and turned to look out the window. Huh. He hadn't even noticed them arriving back at Fentonworks or the car coming to a stop; he wasn't even sure how long they'd been sitting in the driveway. He shook his, trying to get himself focused to the world around him again as he followed Jazz out of the car. "Hey, Jazz?" he said as he swung his door closed.

"What?"

"Do you – do you think the moon landing might have been faked?"

"Let's not do this."

"I'm telling you, Curly, this dream juice you're pumping? Best thing I ever had."

Nocturne wished Bill would stop calling it 'dream juice'. It seemed almost disrespectful toward the wondrous and complex metaphysical energy produced by dreams, and it wasn't as though it could be drunk like a liquid; it moved from being to being in a manner that was something beyond physical and temporal. It was not juice.

Then again, he also wished that Bill would stop calling him 'Curly', but the triangle seemed pretty set in his ways where nomenclature was concerned.

"I mean it, pal, this stuff's nirvana. Wish you'd come and paid me a visit ages ago, we could have been sharing it all this time. Man, it's like crack. You ever had crack, Curly?"

"No."

"Neither have I. We should try it together."

Nocturne closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them again, face steadier. Even for as brief a time as he'd known Bill, he already had had to devise methods to calmly deal with his unceasingly irritating nature. "I take it, then, that the energy has had a positive effect."

"Boy howdy. Give it a few more days, and I think I might even have the strength back to start making some little alterations around here. Nothing big yet, I don't think, but it's coming. How do you think I should decorate this place once I'm up for it, huh?" He squinted and held his hands up in front of him, thumbs and forefingers forming a rectangle like he was planning his framing for a photograph, and he tilted his hands to pick his view; well, actually, his hands stayed still while the rest of him, and the rest of the mindscape, tilted instead. "I'm thinking Southern gothic. Either that or luau-themed. Maybe both. Mash 'em up like potatoes. Or bones."

"Mm. Well, I'm glad to see my end of the deal is to your satisfaction."

"Is it ever. I'm liking you more and more, Curly. We ought to hang out sometime outside of business hours."

Nocturne kept his face straight. "I'd rather not."

"Is it 'cause of the stick in your ass? Don't wanna have fun? I can be boring too, if you'd like. We can discuss global politics and high literature." Out of thin air a monocle complete with a dangling gold chain popped onto his face over his eye and a wooden pipe appeared in his hand, blowing a steady stream of bubbles. "I've got some thoughts on Dante's Inferno that'll melt your mind."

"I think I'd prefer we keep remain professional about this," Nocturne grunted. "We're making progress in getting back to form; that should remain our focus."

"Eh, guess you're right," Bill said. He passed the pipe into his other hand, and as he did it transformed into a bubble wand, billowing out ribbons of gray smoke. "Can't say it's not good to be seeing results. About time, too. We're over forty thousand words in, we really need something to show for it."

"What?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Just keep up the good work and we'll be setting things in motion soon enough."

"Speaking of which," Nocturne said slowly, "What, if I may ask, is your aim here? You've promised me power, but you've not told me how you intend to go about acquiring it."

"Ah ah ah." Bill wagged a condescending finger toward Nocturne. "You don't have the security clearance for that, big guy. But you don't gotta worry your pretty little head about it. The gears are in motion around the clock, and I've got all the blueprints. Once I hammer out a couple of bugs, we'll be ready to party."

"Bugs?"

"Oh, you know," Bill said, turning around to look up towards the mindscape's facsimile of a sky. "Just a few complications I gotta work around. Pine Tree here's got a fun mind to play around in, but he's also a difficult little cuss to work with. Last time I took the joystick in here, he kept trying to throw a wrench into everything I was doing."

"You've had control of him before, then."

"Yep," Bill answered. He was still staring out at the expanse of the mindscape instead of looking back at Nocturne, but the latter tried not to let that annoy him. "Hell of a ride. Up until his mental form managed to get hold of another vessel and everything went top-down."

Nocturne frowned. "You allowed his out to do as it pleased?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't really have much of a choice. He wasn't about to share his head willingly like his uncle did, and without that in, that was the only way I could hijack the stupid thing. But you know that, right? You can't honestly be saying you have done your share of possessing."

"Overshadowing."

"Yeah, potayto, potahto."

"Actually, no. Possession and overshadowing are quite distinct. And overshadowing is far more efficient."

Bill froze in place, back still turned, and was silent for several seconds. Then, rather than turning around, he let his eye sink through his form to open on the other side with a sound like a cannonball slurping through wet cement, rolling into position to affix on Nocturne. "You don't say. How do you go about 'overshadowing', then?"

"It's in the names, really," Nocturne explained. "When you possess, you take ownership. You either usurp the current occupant of the vessel, or you share it, co-own the vessel and take charge when the primary occupant delegates it to you. In both cases, you get the control, but the other mental form, the other soul, is still cognizant. It has the capability to interfere.

"With overshadowing, the vessel's occupant remains, but you eclipse it. You force it into a part of the mindscape where they can't have access to the physical controls, hide it away. Keep it subdued. There are methods of bending the mindscape to propel yourself to the front. Essentially, you push the other soul down, rather than to the side."

"Fascinating," Bill said, and it was one of those rare occasions wherein that word is used in sincerity rather than sarcasm. "And you, you can pull off this overshadowing thing?"

"Yes."

"Is this an innate thing, or do you think it can be learned?"

"I suppose, theoretically, so long as one has entry to otherdimensional planes in mindscapes or soulscapes, they could acquire the skill secondhand."

"Well, Curly, you know how I said we ought to hang out sometime besides when you're dropping off the dream juice?"

"It's not – " Nocturne cut himself off, remembering that that particular argument was futile. "Yes, I recall."

"I think I just decided what our friend-time activity should be." With a little pop!, a desk appeared around Bill, an old-century style type with a curving wooden seat and decorative wrought iron on the sides. Bill sat in it and folded his hands politely on top of the desk like a prim schoolchild. "And there's no time like the present to start. Come on, teacher. Teach me things."