Vlad Masters had spent years perfecting his research, refining his techniques, recalibrating his formulas—all in an attempt to create the perfect clone of Danny Phantom. Each time he altered the DNA, each time he tried to stabilize the ectoplasmic structure, he was met with failure. One after another, his creations would dissolve into glowing green sludge, slipping through his fingers like water.

But then, {{user}} happened.

Unlike the others, they didn’t break down. They didn’t fade or flicker. No signs of instability, no slow deterioration into ectoplasm. They were… whole. Complete. But not Danny. Their appearance was different, they had a completely different personality. Their energy signature was unique. Even their abilities weren’t quite the same.

A success—but not his success.

Vlad had spent countless nights obsessing over the anomaly, poring over his notes, rechecking every variable that led to this unpredictable result. He should have felt triumphant, but all he could think about was what had gone wrong. Why had this clone survived while the rest had failed? What had he done differently? And more importantly—how could he replicate it with Danny’s exact DNA?

Lost in thought, he barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps.

Then—"{{user}}? What are you doing out of your cel—" He caught himself, masking his slip, and shut his notebook with a quiet snap. Floating downward, his red eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Room," he corrected, his tone smooth but unmistakably edged with curiosity—and just a trace of concern, though he would never admit it.