Chapter Three
The Beta Enemy
"Energy is all around us. It drives the world, and it drives emotions. It is indeed the area where feelings and science unite."
I'm flying down a narrow corridor. I feel weightless, and free. The air is cold and moist, and I feel breezes course through my body. Everything is moving so fast, but I know which way I'm supposed to go. I enter a room, a dark room. It is even colder in here, and I can see that the color is purple. Against the wall is a huge screen, and in the screen is a picture of me. I see the back of father's head, the shimmering white of sparkling in the gloom. He is murmuring to the screen in low tones. I look to the right for some reason and see my body, encased in the purple pod. There is glass over it, but it is no barrier. I fly through it, and feel myself shudder. Father looks over, the same curious look on his face. Then he smirks evilly, and his eyes turn red. His teeth are bared, and he looks scary. I cry out, fear filling me to the brim.
I wake up again, for what it seems the millionth time. For a moment I feel stunned, not sure where I am. Then I realize that I am not in the purple room. That is a relief. Instead I am on a cream colored couch in the same room I was before. The window is still open where the girl was, and the curtains flutter every so often. My shoulders and arms ache, so I do not move them. Memories of the fray came back to me. And I wonder . . . why was father so mad? Why did he want to hurt me? It is safe to think, because I am alone.
Or so I think.
I hear a snore, and I stiffen with dread. Before I can make a sound I cover my mouth. I sit up on the couch to see father, only a few feet away in a light red chair. His head is tilted to the side, and his mouth is open. A thin strand of drool hangs from his dry lips.
For some reason, I giggle into my hand. Seeing father this way amuses me, and for a few good moments I forget the ire he'd unleashed before. He looks silly.
Slowly, I crawl off the couch. I want to be as quiet as possible. The carpet feels soft against my legs as I smooth over to father, coming to settle at his feet. Father always wears black pants and shiny shoes. He also wears black shirts with little pink bows. I smile. Father amuses me. Then my smile fades, for I know that he doesn't find me funny. He hates me now. This is because I'm a bad boy, a boy who makes his father mad. I watch him for a few minutes. Every time he breathes out, a silvery strand of air rushes forwards then comes to settle at his nose.
But as I watch him, spontaneous thoughts fill my head. Should I be the one mad? After all, I didn't do anything wrong. Father hurt me, and here I am feeling useless. What happened was an accident. My brain hurts from thinking these things. It's as though my body is rejecting my thoughts. I decide not to think them anymore. That's when I notice something I've never seen before. As I breathe out, a smooth gust of blue smoke issues from my mouth. It is cold and icy. I wrinkle my nose in distaste and try to hold my breath. Being alive did have its drawbacks.
The same thing happens to father on his smoke is red, and his icy blue eyes snap open. I take an involuntary leap backwards, landing on my arms. I continue to crawl away, hoping not to provoke father anymore than I already had. His face is expressionless for a moment, yet tense. His eyes dart around the room, then land on me.
"Oh." he says, his body relaxing. Apparently I brought him relief. I give him a shy smile, still not moving any closer.
"Good morning father." I say gently. He leans back in his chair and crosses a leg, studying me almost cautiously. I can tell somehow that he doesn't want to scare me again.
"It isn't quite morning yet Daniel, but I thank you for the greeting. . ." he begins in his cold voice, only this time it has more warmth to it, "especially after what happened before. . ." His cold voice drops in a very calm, kind manner. I can tell he is sorry. He closes his eyes briefly, and then opens them. The intensity of his face startles me.
"Please forgive me. . ."
I quickly nod my head. Father chuckles, almost sadly.
"I don't know why I'm saying sorry to you. After all, I never really intended you to have real feelings. . .my boy, everything with you is just a reflex. . ." He stands up, and I crawl farther away until I hit a chair opposite of him. He poises his hands behind his back and looks into the distance dreamily.
"You know, the human brain is an amazing thing." He looks down at me. "Even one manufactured by human hands."
He paces the room slowly, resembling a big black cat. My eyes follow his every movement.
"Things occur within it that even science has not been able to understand. . ."
He glances down at me again. "Things such as the 'soul.' Chemical patterns in your brain that gives you feeling, but indeed there is a deeper part of things that cannot be created . . . deeper patterns of the soul that cannot be manufactured. . ." and he trails off, still in a dream.
"I never intended to give you the power of free will, but you are indeed displaying signs of it my boy. " His intense stare burns into me like fire. It hurts, and I flinch away.
"You seem so real, but alas. . .you cannot be. Science has never been able to create a person. A clone indeed, but never a person. . .and it works better for me that way anyway." Father sounded split between two ideas. Two ideas that somehow didn't include me, yet did.
My stomach began to growl. I groaned. What was this sensation? It was just as powerful as any I've ever felt.
"And apparently your survival reflexes are working quite well." He smirks at me, and the look is quite sadistic. I shudder.
"Is someone hungry?"
I nod my head slowly, suddenly feeling an annoying prickling sensation in my stomach, one that makes me feel heated and mad. I try not to be too eager now.
"Then come. We'll get you something to eat."
I followed father down, what it seemed an endless array of stone cold hallways, into a big open room. I recognized it as a kitchen of some sort. Images of refrigerators, ovens, coffee makers, and families sitting around a large table pop into my head. I silently wonder if you programmed me to know that too.
"Sit." Father says simply, gesturing to a cold metal table. I do as I am told, feeling the hard seat on my bottom. It is very uncomfortable. I shift around in my seat a bit as father walks over to his telephone, barks something into it, then puts it down. There is an odd silence in the room. He looks back at me.
"You're food should be here in two minutes or less."
Telephones could get people food? I marveled at this for a moment, until father sat next to me. I felt myself stiffen again, and the urge to leap out of my seat was overwhelming. He didn't notice it apparently, because he kept studying me curiously with his blue eyes.
"Tell me Daniel . . . how are you feeling?"
I'm taken aback. He cares now?
"Fine. . . I guess." I mumble. I didn't realize it until then, but my voice sounds cranky and annoyed. Is that what I am feeling? As I gaze at father, the same feelings return. I'm not sure if I trust him anymore.
"You feel stable . . . nothing mushy?"
I nod my head. "No."
I didn't realize that my voice was snappy either. Something feral and wild seemed to dance into Father's eyes.
My father gazed at me sternly.
"I'll not deal with your pomp again Daniel. Not one more time."
I roll my eyes. Big mistake. Now he looks like a raving lunatic. My mistake might be fatal, and I cringe.
"Give me a reason why I should keep you alive." Now this was abrupt. All feelings of anger fade and my mouth gapes open. I can tell he is serious.
I gulp. Can I really answer that question? Is there any valid reason to keep me alive? My brain tells me no, but there is something else that tells me yes! In fact, it almost shouts "yes". I don't know what this part of me is. There is no logical explanation to what it is. Father did not create this in me, yet it is there.
I lock my eyes with his, and feel as water slowly slides down my cheeks. Some would call this water tears, but my father only sees it as water; hydrogen and oxygen. I try to speak, but my mouth is shaking too much. Again I am being controlled by this unknown force within me.
"I. . I. . ." I try to speak, but words fail me.
Father gazes down at me with his cold eyes. Apparently he isn't amused by my little antics. I know that if I don't come up with a reason for why I should be alive, he will kill me. And God. . . I don't want to die. Then it hit me.
I was feeling fear.
Father made me never to feel fear, but I can feel it. It is a horrible feeling, a feeling that I wish would go away. Somehow, though I am not human, I am feeling what any human would feel when they would meet their end. Fear.
"Well Daniel? Give me a reason."
I try to calm myself, but it is no use. After a few moments, my tears come down more rapidly.
"Because. . .I. . .I'm afraid. . ." The words come out jumbled, and I'm not thinking about what I am saying. The pure truth came out, the kind of truth that can only be spoken in the face of death. I begin to tremble, and my hands tighten around the cold metal table, so very much like the table where father created me.
Father slowly draws away from me, looking bewildered. "You're afraid?"
He shook his head with disbelief.
"That's impossible."
Tears fell harder down my face. "Why are you trying to hurt me Father?"
I cannot think of anything else to say. He shakes his head.
"PH23X. . ."
He reaches out to touch me, and I flinch.
"You really are afraid aren't you? Afraid of me?"
My lips tremble as I nod my head.
"But there'sno need to be afraid of your Dear Old Father. . ."
"After all, I'm only so cranky with you because of well. . . them."
Realization dawns on me. Them?
"Who arethey?" I am bewildered now, and very curious. Who is bothering father? My eyes narrow. I don't want anyone to bother father. Father is only mad at me because they were bothering him. They ended in that case.
Father sighs and leans back into his chair, eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment.
"Oh, Danny Phantom and his little friends. . ."
I raise an eyebrow. "Danny Phantom and friends?"
Father chuckles. "Yes. Daniel and friends."
"Is that like Barney and friends?"
Father actually laughs, which warms my cheeks.
"No, not at all. These pesky teens focus on anything but manners and sharing…"
I rest my chin on my hand, and father continues.
"Or the good of man for that matter."
I giggle. For the first time I can feel the tension between us dissipate.
Then his face becomes serious again. He is silent for a minute. All of the sudden, a knock on the door sounds. A tall maid comes in with a tray. I look over, a grin spreading across my face. A sweet aroma of swirls around me, and that nagging feeling in my stomach comes back. The Maid sets the plate in front of me. It is a steaming plate of macaroni and cheese, as yellow as sunflowers. I look up at her and smile even wider.
"Th..thankyou." I stammer. She looks stunned, takes a fearful look at Father, and nods her head. As if driven by fear, she scuttles out of the room. I watch her with wide, curious eyes. What did I do?
Father shakes his head. "Never thank anyone Daniel. It makes you look soft."
Something about this doesn't seem right. "Soft?"
"Yes, a pushover."
I blush. I don't want to be a pushover. Now it's time to focus on something other than my embarrassment, even though the circumstances are still rather confusing. I focus my attention on the plate in front of me. Then I realize it is food. Heterotrophs like me need to consume it for energy.
I look at my food dumbly. Father raises an eyebrow. "Well, go on Daniel."
I slowly begin to eat. The taste is incredible, and I realize it's the first time I've ever tasted something. The milk and cheese are thick and creamy, and the noodles are big and tender. It tickles my tongue as I eat it, and suddenly I devour my food. Eating is bliss.
It is silent for a few minutes as father waits for me to finish. I finally do, and push my plate away.
"Thank you so much father. That was. .. amazing."
Father smirks a bit. "I'm glad you enjoyed it Son."
Son? I melt at this comment, becoming as tender and buttery as the noodles. Nothing pleases me more than to hear him happy with me, and to see him like me as much as I like him.
Father's smirk increases as he continues with the story of Danny Phantom and friends.
"As I was saying. . ."
"Danny Phantom is a villain, you can say. He has powers, and uses his powers to thwart me."
I lean forwards again, feeling the table against my elbows. "Powers?"
"Yes. Powers that give him super strength, the ability to produce high temperature rays, disappear from sight, and become nothing more than wind. All of these powers are produced by an ectoplasmic force; ghostly powers you might say."
I am fascinated. "Tell me more, please."
"These powers permit him to do great evil. He's robbed banks, stolen my funds, destroyed my homes, and furthermore, helps all of the other ghostly villains gain control over Amity Park."
This boy is bad. Very very bad. I stiffen with anger at the thought of him.
"Amity Park?" I ask curiously. Father elaborates.
"Yes, a city to which I am the Mayor."
Wow, father sure is important. I feel honored to be his son.
"And I control that city. .. the best way I can. But Danny Phantom and his friends always get in my way."
My voice is low, angry. "How can I help?"
Father looks at me with approval. "Smart boy, smart boy."
I feel a surge of confidence, and I sit up in my hard seat.
"That's where the next step comes in."
The next step? I watch Father, and he suddenly seems arrogant, and sneaky.
"What is the next step."
Father sighs briefly, then continues.
"What if I were to tell you that you too have these ghostly abilities. That I do to."
I stumble out of my seat from the shock. My heart pounds fast.
"What?!"
Father laughs a low and evil laugh. I am too shocked to notice how evil it sounds.
"Dear boy, your innocence amuses me, but it is true."
Father stands up and narrows his eyes. Two black rings wash over him, turning him into a monster, a monster of such horror that I crawl away on my hands. He is tall, muscular, and with green skin. His eyes are a bright red, and his hair is raven. His cape flutters as though a breeze runs through it, but there is no breeze. His voice echoes as he speaks.
"Don't be alarmed Son, it's me, 'Father.' His voice echoes, but I know it is him. I relax, but only a little.
"Yes, indeed I have these powers too. Certainly I am powerful myself, but I am nowhere near as powerful as I am united with someone."
My voice trembles as much as my body. "And who is that?"
"It is you my boy, and you alone."
I cringe. Some part of me feels honor, while the other feels immeasurable amounts of fear.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"But, how? How can I do this Father?"
He glides over to me, and terror holds me down. He, with not the gentlest manner, takes my arm and pulls me up. I am nothing to him, no weight. He might as well be lifting a feather with a finger. I cry out in fear as I feel heat was over me. I close my eyes tight. When I open them I can see Father's smug face gazing down at me. A prickle of irritation shoots through me.
I look down to avoid his gaze, but when I do I see my body floating. I am wearing different clothes as well, black, and I am shimmering. I gaso. Father throws his head back and laughs evilly, sending chills of greater magnitude through me.
"You do not understand yet Daniel, but you will soon."
"I promise."
His promise is true, no matter how untrustworthy he is. I can see it in his horrible red eyes.
"But what does this mean?"
Some part of me doesn't want to find out.
A/N: Been busy as usual, and I made this one extra long to make up for it!
Anyway
Dum
Dum
DUMMMMMM
What will happen to PH23X?
Will Vlad ever get a WIFE
and a life?
Find out on the next episode of. . .
Prototype PH23X
...And leave reviews please
