A/N: Note to people posting criticism of any sort: if you a.) post your review in all caps, or b.) can't spell 'anonymous,' I will not take you seriously. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any characters affiliated, Butch Hartman does. Also, I am not making any money off of this at all.

Chapter Two

I wander around aimlessly. I had three rooms - a bathroom with one of those things that's both a bath and a shower, and a toilet and sink, a small living room type thing with a TV and loveseat, and a bedroom furnished with a twin bed, desk, and various writing supplies.

After realizing that there was no vent large enough to crawl out of, like in the movies, I just started walking around. It was good not to be chained up anymore, but my pathetic four hundred square feet provided not nearly as much freedom as I might've liked.

If I was being more optimistic at the time, I would've thought something like 'it's better than the tiny cell I was expecting.' But I wasn't, and I didn't.

Eventually I just flopped down onto my new bed, and fell asleep. Sleep was nice. I dreamed of Mom, Dad, Jazz, Tucker, and Sam. Mom and Dad were arguing over Santa while Sam was picking grapes from that plant of hers, 'Pierre.' Tucker was using his PDA to hack into Technus' latest suit, which, oddly enough, looked like a giant robotic Dash, which insisted on hitting on Jazz.

At six in the morning, according to my new clock, a blaring alarm went off through some sort of intercom, and I jerked awake, rolling out of my bed awkwardly.

I stood up, rubbing my head. "What was that?" I asked no one. My stomach growled, and I realized that I hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday.

I heard a knock coming from the door in the living room. I walked up and opened it.

A man I recognized as Mark was behind it. "I'm here to give you a tour," he said.

"Can I eat first?" I asked ruefully.

He looked at me. "Let me show you around first, and then you can eat."

I stepped out of the place, fully expecting to cuffed again. But nothing of the sort happened. I considered briefly knocking the guy out and looking for an exit, but thought against it.

"Follow me," he said. He pointed at my door. "Your room number is 827. Remember it."

I made a mental note to do just that, and followed him down the halls. "The cafeteria is the entire next floor," he told me, pointing at an elevator. "It's open 24/7."

We passed by several more numbered doors before coming to one clearly marked 'Recreation.' "The library and arcade are in there. It's open all the time, as well."

"Okay," I said skeptically. "This is starting to sound more like a fancy hotel than a prison."

"Exactly," Mark said. "There are fewer major complaints if you people are kept entertained."

I took offense to the 'you people,' bit, particularly since I wasn't fully sure who 'we people' were, yet. But I didn't say anything.

The next room was labeled 'Gym,' and it was just that. "Our fitness center," Mark said.

"How big is your budget?" I asked.

"Ridiculously large. That's all you need to know. We've been around awhile and the government needs us."

There were several shops, and Mark explained the currency of the land. "Ms. Redd and the other shrinks give out credits to everyone who behaves. They're not all that hard to get, unless you develop an attitude. The average income is one or two a day."

"An attitude," I repeated. Suddenly I felt the urge to hurt this guy. I felt incredibly guilty directly afterwards. It's just, this man, who was polite enough on the outside, had this underlying air of undeniable self-importance.

"Yeah. An attitude." He started to move on, and I just stood there. He turned around. "Coming?"

"Sure," I said. It was at that point that I realized something. I could easily go ghost and snap this guy in half. They'd probably capture me and, given that my current status was just above that of an animal, kill me.

I'd deserve it, too.

But all the same, I could.

And that was scary. In fact, it's impossible to say just how terrifying that thought really was.

The old saying, ignorance is bliss, truly applies here. Because I knew that I would be tempted, from that point on.

After a long and grueling tour of a generally featureless building, Mark finally dropped me back off in front of that elevator. "I'll see you later," he said, and pushed the up button.

I didn't reply, and just stepped on when the doors opened. Several other people were already inside. None of them blinked when I got on, and I didn't say anything. Why would I, and what would I?

The elevator stopped, and I followed them off. I caught a glimpse of the cafeteria.

There were far more people there than I ever would of suspected. They ranged in age from five to eighty-five, it seemed, though, strangely enough, the majority was of people just about my age.

The room itself was huge. Lining three of the walls were long buffet tables, and at least fifty cafeteria-style filled up the middle. I followed the people from the elevator and grabbed a plate. I served myself various breakfast foods (eggs, a pancake, some toast) and just sat down in a random place and started eating. It was my goal to get out of there and back into my room as fast as possible. Avoid human contact and think things through was my battle plan, incredibly stupid as it was. I tried not to think about what might be in the food.

I watched people. Some seemed to be withdrawn and reclusive, like me, while others acted like this was a school lunchroom - nothing odd or depressing going on at all. How long had these people been here? Why did no one on the outside know a thing about this place?

I finished eating and dumped my paper plate in a trashcan that was already filled to the brim with the things, and rode back down the elevator. Then I headed back to room 827, this time occasionally passing by people going about their business. Or lack there of.

I half expected to be stopped, and told that, no, this wasn't where I was supposed to be, and shuffled off to be tortured in some room somewhere. My secret had been revealed. I had been captured. My life was over. Why was I still walking around freely, barely gaining a passing glance from those around me? Why, if this had been my fate all along, had the Guys in White threatened me with questioning and 'lots and lots of really painful experiments'? And speaking of them, why had they gone after me in the first place? Didn't this place have their own collection squad?

Questions, questions. None of them seemed too likely to be answered at the moment.

I reached my apartment and flicked on the television. I managed to find Amity's local news station, where, joy of joys, they were launching a report on several recent ghost attacks and how I, recently exposed hero and former enigma, was not helping them at all. Big freaking surprise. Why did they think I'd be watching the news, anyway? Well, I was, but that's beside the point.

"Danny Fenton, we here at Amity Broadcasting, as well as the Amity Park Angle, would like to apologize sincerely for every part we've played in revealing your secret. Please, the ghost attacks are growing worse. Please come back and help us." I changed the channel to some lame cartoon, but didn't really pay attention. Snow wasn't apologizing when she was reporting the story of a lifetime, and ruining my life. Only when her life is in danger did she think about what all this would mean for me.

But I still felt guilty. I was locked here, and I couldn't do anything. There had been a few brief clips of my parents and Valerie fighting off Skulker, and I wondered if I'd ever see them again. If Ms. Redd wasn't lying, I would be able to talk to them, to explain, in a month.

I just kind of stared blankly at the television for awhile. Time had stopped coming in the short bursts I was used to - everything dragged. By the time I had even realized that I wasn't fully conscious, I heard another knock on my door.

I turned off the TV and answered it. It was Lewis, this time. "It's time for your session with Jane," he said simply.

Oh, right. Therapy. "Yeah, okay," I responded, and we went wordlessly down the hall to Jane's office.

"You can go in," he said, and opened the door. I walked in, and he stayed behind.

I took a seat in the same chair as I did yesterday. "Hi," I said.

"Good morning, Danny." She smiled. What else was new?

"So . . ." I scowled slightly.

"I know, you probably don't want to be here. Anymore than you want to be here in general. But it will all be over soon enough."

"Huh?" I said.

"The session. This session will be over soon enough," she corrected, understanding my confusion. "Now. How would you like to do this? I can ask you questions, and you answer, or you can just tell me whatever's on your mind."

"Um . . . I guess you can just ask me stuff." Something I'd learned after nine months of lying constantly: let other people do the talking and it's less likely your mouth will go running off from you. Not that that little tidbit had helped the day before, but nonetheless.

"All right, then. How has your first day gone, so far?"

"Nothing's happened. I ate, and I went back to my room." What else could she have possibly expected?

"Well, that might be good. I'd imagine you're pretty wound up right now."

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Wouldn't you be, if you'd just been ripped from . . . Well, everything?" I was angry, and nervous. Wound up . . . wound up was not the phrase I was looking for. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we covered the fact that I am not at all happy to be here yesterday."

"You're doing better than some others. You've been very cooperative, which is ultimately healthier than kicking and screaming and carrying on."

"Because there's no way to get out of here, right?"

"Right. We've got guards armed to the teeth with ecto-weapons, this whole building is ghost-proof, and a whole lot of other nonsense I didn't understand. I don't work in ecto-physiology or ecto-weaponry, so excuse my complete lack of knowledge. But basically, every possibility has been covered. We have a lot of different kinds of powers in this building. Everything in here, nearly, is fireproof, the walls were designed to absorb everything from psychic attacks to supersonic waves, and all of our men are fully protected against the same things."

"That's good to know," I told her. "Saves me a lot of trouble. I have a wide arsenal, if you know what I mean." Shut up, I told myself. Just shut the heck up.

"Why don't you tell me? What exactly can you do? I know you're half ghost, but beyond that, I don't know much."

"Hmm, now that's an interesting subject. I can fly and turn invisible and intangible and stuff, but that's pretty generic. Ecto-blasts and the ghost sense are pretty normal as well, for a ghost, so I guess my abnormal abilities are just my ghostly wail and the ice stuff."

"What are they?"

"The ghostly wail is . . . Why am I telling you?"

"So that later, when you're demonstrating these things to a team of scientists much more knowledgeable in the field of ecto-physiology, they'll already know you're a very cooperative person, and won't have to cut you open to find out whether or not you were lying about what you can do."

I blinked. That was a very good reason to be telling her. "The ghostly wail is just a supersonic blast, and I can basically create and control ice. They're not unique to me and only me, but I'm the only one of the two ghost hyb - I've said too much." That was incredibly stupid. At least I hadn't said 'three' and thrown in Danielle, but, dang, did I want to throw Vlad into this mess? . . . On second thought . . .

"Two ghost hybrids?" she guessed. "Do you want to tell me who the second one is?"

"I'd really rather not. I don't want him here." Yes, the only good thing about coming here was that Vlad was no where in sight.

"You two don't get along?"

"Think . . . Arch-nemesis. My Joker, or my Lex Luthor. He's evil as evil gets."

Almost as evil as evil gets, anyway.

"The other half of the building is where we hold the truly malevolent super beings that work there way in here," she said. I grinned despite myself.

"Vlad Masters. He's Vlad Masters, 1997 Billionaire of the Year, CEO of Vlad Co, and mayor of Amity Park. Also, and old college buddy of my parents."

Her jaw dropped. "Vlad Masters is half ghost?" she asked. "And he's evil?"

"Uh . . . Yeah. You don't have to take my word for it. Just read a few reports of the vicious misdeeds of The Wisconsin Ghost."

"He's The Wisconsin Ghost?"

"He's The Wisconsin Ghost."

"That's . . . interesting." She scribbled something down on that clipboard of hers, then looked up at me. "I'll make sure to get someone on this right away. Who else knows about him?"

"Only the people that know my secret - er, the people that used to be the only people that knew."

"Who are?"

"My sister, and my two best friends."

"Not your parents?" Jane looked surprised.

"Top ghost hunters in the world? I don't think so."

"Well, if they didn't know it was you, what was to stop them from hunting you like any other ghost?" She'd immediately dropped the subject of Vlad to go back to me. Swell.

"Nothing," I replied grimly. "I was fair game."

She kind of stared at me. "That must have been hard."

"Welcome to my world," I said. "My life hasn't been easy for about a year now. This is just the icing on the cake."

"Because you chose to play hero?"

"Exactly."

"Why didn't you quit?"

Her question surprised me. Quit? I couldn't quit. I had to do what I did. There wasn't any other option, was there?

"Why would I quit? Saving people wasn't just something I decided to do on a whim - I had to."

"Why?"

"Because I was the only one that could."

Jane looked thoughtful for a moment. "How'd you get like this?"

"Sam convinced me to go into my parents' ghost portal. I activated in from the inside by accident. Hence, me."

"Who's Sam?"

"One of my two best friends."

"Male or female?"

"She's a girl."

"Did she suggest that you start being Danny Phantom?"

"No."

"Did your other friend?"

"No."

"So you chose to by yourself."

"Yes."

"You're a very strong-willed person, Danny. Particularly for a teenager."

"Not how I would describe it." I was getting fed up with this. So what? I felt obligated to save people and fight ghosts. Of course I did; I have the powers to do it, and I'm not evil, so I kind of had to. It mean I have strong morals, at best. "Can I go?"

Ms. Redd looked at her watch. "You have a DNA test in about ten minutes. I'm supposed to keep you here until then."

"A DNA test?"

She bit her lip. "They do this to all the newcomers. They examine your DNA, and well, determine if you are physiologically human."

My stomach churned. Physiologically human. That was a category I was not so sure I fit in. "What happens if I'm not? Why does it matter?"

She looked down at the table, kind of fidgeting. "Danny, most people in here are just prisoners. Kept here by law against their will. But some clause in some law or another, well, specifies that any subject found to not be human becomes the property of the government. So if that test comes up positive . . . well . . ."

I'm pretty sure my throat closed up, at least partially. "P-property?"

"I'm sorry. I hope for your sake the test comes up negative."

I had this sinking feeling that it wouldn't. Was half-human enough to qualify? Well, it didn't stop them from taking me to Mt. Ivory, did it?

So I spent the next seven minutes with Ms. Redd, not talking.

Property.