A/N: I really, really want someone to continue this for me! Please? (By the way, thanks to all the reviewers!)
"Heroing is one of the shortest-lived professions there is."
~ Will Rogers
Popping Bubbles
There was something totally ironic in the location they had decided to place his prison. If he hadn't been so tired and his muscles hadn't been aching with flashes of pure white-hot pain, then he might have laughed—or maybe even cried.
City Hall, Danny rethought for the millionth time that night, shifting to more comfortable position on the cold ground. How pleasant.
He stared at the moon through the impenetrable glass of his cage. A tear or two fell from his closing eyes as he fell into a restless sleep, not caring to anticipate what would happen in the morning or the disaster he knew was coming.
In a strange sort of way, he was unsurprised to see it was the Guys in White who had managed to nab him last night and force him into the weird prison. He was surprised, however, to see the mayor call forth a meeting right in front of him. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Mayor Turner smiled, fixing his tie to impeccable perfection as he stepped forward to his podium, stopping the excited chatter of the press and assembled public. "Fellow citizens," he started, motioning passionately to the crowd, "today is a great day."
Danny rolled his eyes, still scrunched in the little ball he had been in since he'd woken up. "Yeah, great," he whispered sarcastically.
"Behind this black curtain," the mayor continued, having not heard Danny's response and indicating with a wide gesture to the curtain that concealed his cage, "is the worst thing that has ever happened to Amity Park. We have trapped it and now it will never escape."
So now he was an 'it'?
"Without further ado, I'd like to pass the mic over to Agent K of the Guys in White—you know, the secret government organization that's been poking its nose into our town for about a year? Yeah, that one." There was some awkward shuffling until a mountain of a man—why did all of these goons have to look like they'd been injected with steroids?—stepped towards the podium.
"We have captured the infamous Danny Phantom," Agent K stated in a gruff voice, getting straight to the point. There were some startled gasps from the onlookers. "We have contained the ghost in a solid, clear-form of ecto-ribotnuse—" he motioned for one of his comrades to drop the curtain "—there is no escaping this."
The silence dragged for two eternities as everyone stared at the trapped ghost inside what looked like a glass bubble—a giant glass bubble, with a door. Danny didn't dare look up from his curled position, the shame of having everyone see him like a cornered animal too great. He just knew his parents were in the audience, maybe even Sam and Tucker. It was bad enough that he'd been captured; now, they were showing him off like some freak show.
A light sprinkle of tears appeared in his vision before he blinked them away roughly.
"The reason for the see-through cage is so that the experiments we are planning to make are in full public view."
Danny's head snapped up at that. They were going to experiment on him? In public? He suddenly felt sick to his stomach, last night's supper threatening to spill out as his organs seemed to twist themselves into knots.
"For example," the agent drew out, gesturing towards the bubble with great exaggeration, "watch as my fellow operative, Agent O, restrains the ghost with ectoplasmic-eliminator cuffs."
Danny jumped to his feet, already calculating an escape route when he saw Agent O open the door of his prison. He didn't allow himself to think. He flew at the man, turning intangible so that he would merely phase through him and pass unharmed.
He hadn't counted on him wearing a ghost-repelling suit.
Danny was thrown backwards, landing with a sharp snap on the curved outing of his bubble. Most of the audience flinched at the sound.
"Hold still, specter," Agent O drawled, approaching the teenager's crumpled heap with calculated and steady movements.
Danny instantly recoiled, flying to the top of his prison to put substantial distance between the two. "Get away from me!"
Agent O scowled, pulling at something from his belt to join the glowing handcuffs in his left hand. It was an ecto-gun—a powerful, painful looking ecto-gun.
It took twenty-seven shots, half the charge of the gun, and an obvious weariness in Danny before Agent O was able to shoot him down. There was just no place to run.
Danny groaned, struggling to push himself up with shaking limbs.
"Oh no you don't." The government agent quickly pulled Danny up and fastened the cuffs to his wrists.
An acute pang of electricity ran through his system, inciting a deafening scream from the youth as his body convulsed. He pressed his hands to his skull, trying to dull the pain as tears squeezed from his eyes and his shriek died in a chocking mess.
The crowd—which had grown substantially larger since the mayor had fist called the meeting—stared in sympathy at the young ghost. Some even had to look away, tears collecting in their eyes. Others were already protesting the capture of Phantom, livid that a government which was meant to protect them was doing that—and to a child, no less. Yet another, smaller group of people watched in sick fascination as the ghost was being tortured; it needn't be said that among that group were Maddie and Jack Fenton.
There was a painfully long second that passed before the twitches of electricity stopped, and Danny was able to withstand the pain as it subsided into a dull roar. Trembling, gasping for breath, the trail of tears still visible on his pale cheeks, he stood up and glared at the Moron in White.
Agent O gasped, his hand trailing to his mouth as his eyes widened exponentially. Those who were near enough to see, gasped with him.
Phantom's eyes, previously a sharp, electric, ghostly green, were now a sweet, icy, totally-human blue.
"Y-your eyes," the agent emphasized, backpedaling instinctively. "T-they're blue."
For half a moment, Danny forgot himself. "Well, duh, of course they're blue," he scoffed, trailing a lazy hand through his silvery-white hair, wincing as a pain ripped through his abdomen. "I was born with blue eyes. It's not like they're going to be green, like when I'm Phan—" The world seemed to snap back into focus. "Oh. Right."
"Explain."
"I...uh...sort of can't."
Agent O frowned, something close to anger flashing in his sunglasses-covered eyes. He took a forward and aimed his ecto-gun at the shaking ghost, determined to make sure he didn't escape. "Agent W," he called out, motioning for one of his fellow suit-wearing comrades, "fetch me the truth syndrome." He glanced at the ghost, smiling. "We're going to make you tell us the truth."
Danny couldn't help his shudder. (Truth? As in, the whole truth?) This situation didn't seem nearly as laughable as it had appeared last night.
He didn't even try to escape past the gun or goons, knowing he'd never make it out the door without his powers. It was a hopeless cause.
Agent W, armed with what looked like a regular, huge pistol, handed Agent O the gun before walking out silently.
"This might hurt—just a tad."
Danny barely had time to register a dart flying in his direction, before a sharp pain exploded in his shoulder. He yelped, trying to reach out to dislodge the obstruction.
But darkness clouded his vision, turning his resolve into mush as two strong arms picked him up...
"We'll start out with easy questions first. Is that alright?"
"Yes."
"Are you a human?"
He told the truth. He had to. "Yes."
"W—what?"
"Me. Human."
"Yeah, right. Aren't you a ghost?"
"Yes."
"So you're a ghost and a human?"
"Yes."
"How is that possible?"
"Halfa."
"What's that?"
"Halfa," he repeated.
"Alright, fine, don't answer. Next question. What's your full, real name?"
"Daniel James Fenton."
Somewhere in the crowd of onlookers that watched as Agent O questioned Danny, there were two, shocked screams.
Mom. Dad.
A Danny Phantom motion picture by Sundae Cinema.
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