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Description
Later that day, the fair was alight with activity.  Nearly the entire population of Amity Park had turned up for the event, as the fair day was considered a technical holiday amongst the city's businesses.  And all of these people were participating in everything the fair had to offer: rides, contests, foods, and much more.

For instance, as of 12:17 P.M., Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, and Sam Manson had been rendered nauseated by the awesome centripetal force of the Trabant ride.  They could barely stand by the time the machine ceased its spinning and they got off.

"Oh man..." Tucker groaned.  "I think we're about to see that funnel cake I had earlier again..."

"Just go to the restroom for that this time..." Sam said dryly.

The techno-geek righted his balance and screwed up his eyes, saying, "It's alright.  False alarm."

Danny, meanwhile, was having trouble readjusting to normal conditions.  Every step he took seemed to place his center of gravity at the top of his head, and his eyes were literally spiraling in their sockets.

"Hey Danny," Tucker asked his off-balanced friend.  "You okay?"

"Wha...?" Danny replied, blinking a few times.  He shook his head vigorously.  "Yeah, I'll be okay..."

"I hope so," Sam said.  "I've seen you guys barf enough for one day..."

As the three kids walked through the crowd, Sam and Tucker marveled at how the fair had become so advanced this year.  Danny had told his friends that Vlad Masters had been behind the funding of this year's fair, and warned them to keep on their guard.  But to them, it seemed harmless.  No ghosts were in sight, or within range of Danny's ghost sense.  Everything seemed alright, and they were going to enjoy it.

Danny, however, had a sullen expression on his face the entire day.

Finally, as they walked through the Midway, Sam spoke.  "Danny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied flatly.

"Danny..." Tucker said disapprovingly.

"Okay, okay..." Danny said.  "I'm just thinking, that's all."

"Then why are you so down?" Tucker asked.  "When we went on the Yo-Yo, you didn't scream once!  That's not natural."

"It's just that..." Danny began, "well, have you noticed that not a lot of people like me lately?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"It's like this," Danny said.  "Even after all I do to make the world safer, someone always tries to blast me or punch me or rip me apart or some other nonsense."

"Like who?" Tucker asked skeptically.

"The Guys in White, my mom and dad, Valerie..."  Danny's voice trailed away on the last word.  He then said, "No matter what I do, someone always wants a piece of me.  And, to tell you the truth, I'm pretty sick of it."

"Danny," Sam said, "don't worry about them.  They just don't understand."

"No; they don't care," Danny replied.  "I mean, Valerie and me were becoming the best of friends, but ever since she got that new ghost-hunting gear, she's been kinda...obsessive, lately.  She doesn't talk to me for more than a few seconds, and when she does, it's always about ghosts."

"Speaking of which..."  Sam pointed to a nearby tent colored in red and black.

And, sure enough, Valerie Gray was there, walking out of the flap in the tent.  She seemed intent on her watch, staring at it with the intensity that Danny had seen just that morning.  None of them knew what this meant, but it surely wasn't good.

Yet before Danny could hail her over, he heard two voices carry from down the Midway:

"GHOST!!!"

"Get away from me, you maniac!"

Turning his head in the direction of the shouting, Danny saw three people charging up the rows of fair games.  Two–his mother and father, instantly recognizable by their Day-Glo colored jumpsuits–were chasing after the third, a tall man in violet robes with a matching turban.

The entire display wasn't lost on Valerie, who had wrenched her gaze from her watch to stare in confusion at Danny's parents and the man in purple.  She ran over to the man, who was breathing heavily from his unwanted exercise, and started to converse with the Fentons in a tone outside the earshot of Danny, Tucker, and Sam.

"What was that all about?" Tucker asked.

"I dunno..." Danny asked, "but since Vlad's sponsoring this fair, anything ghost-related might be his work..."

The three teens ran over to the group of four people, Danny paying close attention to his breath to see if his ghost-sense went off.  They found the Fentons arguing with the man in violet robes, while Valerie tried unsuccessfully to edge her way into the conversation.

"Mom?  Dad?"  Danny called over the arguing.

The four people turned to Danny and his friends.  "Hey!  Danny!" Jack said boisterously.  "So how's my son and his buddies enjoying the fair?"

"Wait a minute," the tall man said, looking at Danny.  "Are you the son of this horrid man?"

Danny's eyes shifted from side to side.  "Um...yes."

"I'll have you know that these two think I'm a ghost, for some reason or other.  And they already attacked me with their idiotic weaponry!"

"That's idiotic Fenton weaponry, mister!" Jack retorted.

"Jack, calm down!" Maddie said.  "Maybe this man's right.  Maybe it's our equipment acting up again."

Danny looked at the device in his father's hand.  It was a shiny arc of metal with many green wires and lights studded onto its chrome surface.  The Fenton Boo-Merang; a device that could be used to track ghosts over great distances.  Although there were doubts to its reliability in the Fenton family: it had keyed onto Danny many times before, and Jack and Maddie never knew why.

The teen, however, knew that the device worked.  Very well.

But why wasn't his ghost sense going off?

"Well..." Jack mumbled, "sorry for chasing you.  And blasting at you.  And hitting you with the Boo-Merang."

The tall man in violet sniffed.  "Very well.  I have better things to do than be chased around by ghost hunters."

As Jack and Maddie walked away down the Midway, the man in purple dusted himself off and turned to the four remaining teens.  In particular, he seemed mildly interested in Danny more than anyone else.

Danny looked at the man, and his first impression was of height.  He was at least a foot taller than Danny, but the perfect poise of his body made him seem even taller.  His face was tall and gaunt, with high cheekbones and eyebrows that looked as though they had been painted on as makeup.  The chin was long and tapered, with a goatee on its point, making the head look very much like an inverted teardrop.  The man's hands were long and dexterous, and the nails on the fingertips were so long that one might mistake them for an eagle's talons.

At close range, the man's clothes looked even stranger than before.  His violet robes were embroidered  with patterns of the symbols found on playing cards: spades, clubs, hearts, and diamonds.  Also, in the center of his turban was a playing card, the ace of spades.  He looked as though his clothes had gone through the wash with a deck of cards he'd left in his pocket.

It was Valerie who spoke first.  "Excuse me...um, why did those two think you were a ghost?" she asked the man.

"Because their infernal machine said I was one," the man replied.  "The thing probably doesn't even work..."  He turned to Danny.  "No offense."

"Yeah..." Danny said warily, watching his breath carefully.  "Just who are you?"

"My name is Solitaire," the man said flatly.  He offered his hand, and Danny shook it.  Then, for the briefest instant, Solitaire's dull, emerald-green eyes opened wide, took on an almost red cast,  and stared right into Danny's.  In Danny's mind, it was as though the man were staring right through his eyes and into the back of his head like an x-ray.  Then the eyes drooped and Solitaire took his hand away.  "What is your name, my boy?" he asked.

Danny paused for a moment.  He didn't trust the x-ray-like glare that this man had just given him.  It had been as though Solitaire had taken a mental snapshot of the boy and put it away in his brain.

"Danny," the teen said cautiously.  "Danny Fenton."

Solitaire then looked at Tucker and Sam, repeating his earlier stare.  His eyes bored into theirs, then fell again.  "And them?"

"Tucker and Sam," Danny said.

The man nodded, and turned to Valerie.  "And what about you?"

"My name's Valerie," the girl said uncaringly.  "Quick question: why are you in that getup?"

"It's traditional gypsy wear," Solitaire explained.  "My ancestors came from Eastern Europe, and I hold to many of their traditions."

"And the playing card symbols?" Tucker asked.

"A hobby of mine.  I'm a fortune teller, and I use playing cards instead of tarot cards."

Sam snorted.  "I don't believe that for a second."

"Don't believe what?" Solitaire asked.

"That you can tell people's fortune.  All that's a crock.  Not one living person can accurately predict the future or past."

Solitaire's thin lips creased in a smile.  "Really?  Another skeptic?  How about a bet on it?"

"A bet?" Sam asked.

"Yes, a bet.  I'll tell one of your pasts for free, and we'll see if I'm right.  Do we have a deal?"

Sam smiled wryly before shaking Solitaire's outstretched hand.  "You got it.  So who's gonna be this fake's subject?"

"Well..." Valerie said, "I've got some business to do..."

"How about you, Danny?" Tucker asked.

"Alright," Danny said confidently.  He had never believed in fortune tellers either.  "I'll do this."

"Very well," Solitaire said.  "Come with me."

Danny followed Solitaire down the Midway of the fair, taking in all the sights.  Many of the people he knew from school were here: Dash and Kwan were blasting away at targets in a shooting gallery, Paulina and Star were enjoying candy apples, and countless other faces whose names Danny couldn't remember were congregating near the Ferris wheel, waiting their turn in line.

When his eyes fell back on Solitaire, however, he shuddered with a feeling of dread.  He saw that when the man walked, his knees did not dent the royal violet sheen of his robes, and his feet did not show below the hem.  It was as though he were gliding along the ground instead of walking.

Within minutes, they had reached a large tent with a red and black design.  From the landmarks around it, Danny recognized the spot as the exact center of the town; the spot where he and Valerie had fought that morning.  They entered the flap in the tent, and Danny shuddered again.  The interior was dimly lit with a series of red and black candles, casting eerie light around.  The smell of incense hung in the air, making it hard to breathe.  In the center of the tent was a small, circular table with two chairs facing opposite each other.

"Alright," Danny said, sitting down.  "Let's just get this over with..."

"Don't be so skeptical, my boy," Solitaire said in his soft, resonant tone.

"Why not?" Danny asked irritably.  "I mean, Sam's right, you know.  This is all just a bunch of garbage you cooked up to get people's money.  That's really pathetic, you know that?"

Irritation flickered at the sides of Solitaire's mouth as he took the seat opposite Danny.  "Really?  Pathetic?"  He took a pack of cards out and started to shuffle.  "There is nothing pathetic about this, my boy.  I can see anything I want with these."

"Then prove it," Danny said.  "Tell something about me that you know."

"Alright, my boy..." Solitaire set his cards down and dealt one off the top.  It showed a jack of spades.

"Or..." Solitaire said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "should I call you ‘Danny Phantom'?"

Danny's eyes shot wide.  He had lost all ability to speak.

Solitaire smiled thinly, cruelty evident in his lips.  "Am I a fake now, my boy?"

Description
Later that day, the fair was alight with activity.  Nearly the entire population of Amity Park had turned up for the event, as the fair day was considered a technical holiday amongst the city's businesses.  And all of these people were participating in everything the fair had to offer: rides, contests, foods, and much more.

For instance, as of 12:17 P.M., Danny Fenton, Tucker Foley, and Sam Manson had been rendered nauseated by the awesome centripetal force of the Trabant ride.  They could barely stand by the time the machine ceased its spinning and they got off.

"Oh man..." Tucker groaned.  "I think we're about to see that funnel cake I had earlier again..."

"Just go to the restroom for that this time..." Sam said dryly.

The techno-geek righted his balance and screwed up his eyes, saying, "It's alright.  False alarm."

Danny, meanwhile, was having trouble readjusting to normal conditions.  Every step he took seemed to place his center of gravity at the top of his head, and his eyes were literally spiraling in their sockets.

"Hey Danny," Tucker asked his off-balanced friend.  "You okay?"

"Wha...?" Danny replied, blinking a few times.  He shook his head vigorously.  "Yeah, I'll be okay..."

"I hope so," Sam said.  "I've seen you guys barf enough for one day..."

As the three kids walked through the crowd, Sam and Tucker marveled at how the fair had become so advanced this year.  Danny had told his friends that Vlad Masters had been behind the funding of this year's fair, and warned them to keep on their guard.  But to them, it seemed harmless.  No ghosts were in sight, or within range of Danny's ghost sense.  Everything seemed alright, and they were going to enjoy it.

Danny, however, had a sullen expression on his face the entire day.

Finally, as they walked through the Midway, Sam spoke.  "Danny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied flatly.

"Danny..." Tucker said disapprovingly.

"Okay, okay..." Danny said.  "I'm just thinking, that's all."

"Then why are you so down?" Tucker asked.  "When we went on the Yo-Yo, you didn't scream once!  That's not natural."

"It's just that..." Danny began, "well, have you noticed that not a lot of people like me lately?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"It's like this," Danny said.  "Even after all I do to make the world safer, someone always tries to blast me or punch me or rip me apart or some other nonsense."

"Like who?" Tucker asked skeptically.

"The Guys in White, my mom and dad, Valerie..."  Danny's voice trailed away on the last word.  He then said, "No matter what I do, someone always wants a piece of me.  And, to tell you the truth, I'm pretty sick of it."

"Danny," Sam said, "don't worry about them.  They just don't understand."

"No; they don't care," Danny replied.  "I mean, Valerie and me were becoming the best of friends, but ever since she got that new ghost-hunting gear, she's been kinda...obsessive, lately.  She doesn't talk to me for more than a few seconds, and when she does, it's always about ghosts."

"Speaking of which..."  Sam pointed to a nearby tent colored in red and black.

And, sure enough, Valerie Gray was there, walking out of the flap in the tent.  She seemed intent on her watch, staring at it with the intensity that Danny had seen just that morning.  None of them knew what this meant, but it surely wasn't good.

Yet before Danny could hail her over, he heard two voices carry from down the Midway:

"GHOST!!!"

"Get away from me, you maniac!"

Turning his head in the direction of the shouting, Danny saw three people charging up the rows of fair games.  Two–his mother and father, instantly recognizable by their Day-Glo colored jumpsuits–were chasing after the third, a tall man in violet robes with a matching turban.

The entire display wasn't lost on Valerie, who had wrenched her gaze from her watch to stare in confusion at Danny's parents and the man in purple.  She ran over to the man, who was breathing heavily from his unwanted exercise, and started to converse with the Fentons in a tone outside the earshot of Danny, Tucker, and Sam.

"What was that all about?" Tucker asked.

"I dunno..." Danny asked, "but since Vlad's sponsoring this fair, anything ghost-related might be his work..."

The three teens ran over to the group of four people, Danny paying close attention to his breath to see if his ghost-sense went off.  They found the Fentons arguing with the man in violet robes, while Valerie tried unsuccessfully to edge her way into the conversation.

"Mom?  Dad?"  Danny called over the arguing.

The four people turned to Danny and his friends.  "Hey!  Danny!" Jack said boisterously.  "So how's my son and his buddies enjoying the fair?"

"Wait a minute," the tall man said, looking at Danny.  "Are you the son of this horrid man?"

Danny's eyes shifted from side to side.  "Um...yes."

"I'll have you know that these two think I'm a ghost, for some reason or other.  And they already attacked me with their idiotic weaponry!"

"That's idiotic Fenton weaponry, mister!" Jack retorted.

"Jack, calm down!" Maddie said.  "Maybe this man's right.  Maybe it's our equipment acting up again."

Danny looked at the device in his father's hand.  It was a shiny arc of metal with many green wires and lights studded onto its chrome surface.  The Fenton Boo-Merang; a device that could be used to track ghosts over great distances.  Although there were doubts to its reliability in the Fenton family: it had keyed onto Danny many times before, and Jack and Maddie never knew why.

The teen, however, knew that the device worked.  Very well.

But why wasn't his ghost sense going off?

"Well..." Jack mumbled, "sorry for chasing you.  And blasting at you.  And hitting you with the Boo-Merang."

The tall man in violet sniffed.  "Very well.  I have better things to do than be chased around by ghost hunters."

As Jack and Maddie walked away down the Midway, the man in purple dusted himself off and turned to the four remaining teens.  In particular, he seemed mildly interested in Danny more than anyone else.

Danny looked at the man, and his first impression was of height.  He was at least a foot taller than Danny, but the perfect poise of his body made him seem even taller.  His face was tall and gaunt, with high cheekbones and eyebrows that looked as though they had been painted on as makeup.  The chin was long and tapered, with a goatee on its point, making the head look very much like an inverted teardrop.  The man's hands were long and dexterous, and the nails on the fingertips were so long that one might mistake them for an eagle's talons.

At close range, the man's clothes looked even stranger than before.  His violet robes were embroidered  with patterns of the symbols found on playing cards: spades, clubs, hearts, and diamonds.  Also, in the center of his turban was a playing card, the ace of spades.  He looked as though his clothes had gone through the wash with a deck of cards he'd left in his pocket.

It was Valerie who spoke first.  "Excuse me...um, why did those two think you were a ghost?" she asked the man.

"Because their infernal machine said I was one," the man replied.  "The thing probably doesn't even work..."  He turned to Danny.  "No offense."

"Yeah..." Danny said warily, watching his breath carefully.  "Just who are you?"

"My name is Solitaire," the man said flatly.  He offered his hand, and Danny shook it.  Then, for the briefest instant, Solitaire's dull, emerald-green eyes opened wide, took on an almost red cast,  and stared right into Danny's.  In Danny's mind, it was as though the man were staring right through his eyes and into the back of his head like an x-ray.  Then the eyes drooped and Solitaire took his hand away.  "What is your name, my boy?" he asked.

Danny paused for a moment.  He didn't trust the x-ray-like glare that this man had just given him.  It had been as though Solitaire had taken a mental snapshot of the boy and put it away in his brain.

"Danny," the teen said cautiously.  "Danny Fenton."

Solitaire then looked at Tucker and Sam, repeating his earlier stare.  His eyes bored into theirs, then fell again.  "And them?"

"Tucker and Sam," Danny said.

The man nodded, and turned to Valerie.  "And what about you?"

"My name's Valerie," the girl said uncaringly.  "Quick question: why are you in that getup?"

"It's traditional gypsy wear," Solitaire explained.  "My ancestors came from Eastern Europe, and I hold to many of their traditions."

"And the playing card symbols?" Tucker asked.

"A hobby of mine.  I'm a fortune teller, and I use playing cards instead of tarot cards."

Sam snorted.  "I don't believe that for a second."

"Don't believe what?" Solitaire asked.

"That you can tell people's fortune.  All that's a crock.  Not one living person can accurately predict the future or past."

Solitaire's thin lips creased in a smile.  "Really?  Another skeptic?  How about a bet on it?"

"A bet?" Sam asked.

"Yes, a bet.  I'll tell one of your pasts for free, and we'll see if I'm right.  Do we have a deal?"

Sam smiled wryly before shaking Solitaire's outstretched hand.  "You got it.  So who's gonna be this fake's subject?"

"Well..." Valerie said, "I've got some business to do..."

"How about you, Danny?" Tucker asked.

"Alright," Danny said confidently.  He had never believed in fortune tellers either.  "I'll do this."

"Very well," Solitaire said.  "Come with me."

Danny followed Solitaire down the Midway of the fair, taking in all the sights.  Many of the people he knew from school were here: Dash and Kwan were blasting away at targets in a shooting gallery, Paulina and Star were enjoying candy apples, and countless other faces whose names Danny couldn't remember were congregating near the Ferris wheel, waiting their turn in line.

When his eyes fell back on Solitaire, however, he shuddered with a feeling of dread.  He saw that when the man walked, his knees did not dent the royal violet sheen of his robes, and his feet did not show below the hem.  It was as though he were gliding along the ground instead of walking.

Within minutes, they had reached a large tent with a red and black design.  From the landmarks around it, Danny recognized the spot as the exact center of the town; the spot where he and Valerie had fought that morning.  They entered the flap in the tent, and Danny shuddered again.  The interior was dimly lit with a series of red and black candles, casting eerie light around.  The smell of incense hung in the air, making it hard to breathe.  In the center of the tent was a small, circular table with two chairs facing opposite each other.

"Alright," Danny said, sitting down.  "Let's just get this over with..."

"Don't be so skeptical, my boy," Solitaire said in his soft, resonant tone.

"Why not?" Danny asked irritably.  "I mean, Sam's right, you know.  This is all just a bunch of garbage you cooked up to get people's money.  That's really pathetic, you know that?"

Irritation flickered at the sides of Solitaire's mouth as he took the seat opposite Danny.  "Really?  Pathetic?"  He took a pack of cards out and started to shuffle.  "There is nothing pathetic about this, my boy.  I can see anything I want with these."

"Then prove it," Danny said.  "Tell something about me that you know."

"Alright, my boy..." Solitaire set his cards down and dealt one off the top.  It showed a jack of spades.

"Or..." Solitaire said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "should I call you ‘Danny Phantom'?"

Danny's eyes shot wide.  He had lost all ability to speak.

Solitaire smiled thinly, cruelty evident in his lips.  "Am I a fake now, my boy?"