A/N: This is inspired a great deal by how Butch Hartman originally planned the show. The only difference is that Danny's an adult in this, and the fact that he's a detective, not a ghost hunter, which I did to give this story a Film Noir feel.

Name's Phantom. Danny Phantom. Well, technically, it's Danny Fenton, but I had it changed when a ghost killed my parents. What am I? I'm a gumshoe, a private dick, a P.I., whatever you want to call it, but I'm not your average detective. Most people hire us to track down politicians, or when they suspect their spouse may be two-timing them. My clients have different problems. Ghostly problems.

It was a night like any other night. The light from the street below gave my walls a pinstriped look. I was dozing as soft jazz played over the radio, interrupted every now and then by static, my daze increased by the soft patter of rain as it hit the glass. I checked my watch. 11:55 P.M. Five minutes till closing time. I was just about to lock up when the voice of my secretary, Vlad, came over the intercom. "There's a woman here to see you, sir."

"Send her in, Vlad." Vlad was an old friend of the family. When my family, comprised mainly of ghost hunters, was killed by a rogue specter, he was the one who took me in and took control of the family business. When I was old enough, I regained control of FentonWorks, renaming it Phantom Investigations and hired my two best friends. First there was Sam Manson, an expert in the field of the paranormal, and then there was Tucker Foley, a computer wiz and MIT graduate. Not wanting to disgrace my family, I had a plaque made that said "In memory of Jack, Maddie, and Jazz Fenton. Loving father, doting mother, caring sister", which I kept on my office wall. For a year, we stayed in the old PI, my childhood home, before relocating the main office to a safer location downtown, keeping the HQ in the old PI building. Of course, I still lived in the old PI, as does Sam, who sleeps in my parents' old room, and Tucker, who makes his home in the guest room in the OPcenter. Vlad, well, he lives elsewhere. Never asked where.

"Danny Phantom?" asked a shapely woman in tasteless clothes and reeking of cheap perfume.

"Help you?"

"Yeah. Y'see, my boyfriend's gone missing."

"Look, lady, I don't know what people been tellin' ya, but I don't track down humans. The 'P' on my business card stands for 'phantom', not 'private.'"

"Well, that's just it. Y'see, him and I are ghosts." That was the beginning of one of my biggest cases yet.