Chapter Two: The Guys in White
"So, you mean to tell me a stress ball isn't for throwing at people who stress you out." - Unknown
Vlad
It takes no time at all to snatch the ghost-made cellphones from Samantha, Tucker, and Jasmine. Luckily, all three of them were at the Fenton house. The Ghost Shield was up, but that's what my human-half is for. I was unable to switch back while under the shield, but I could utilize my invisibility and intangibility. Perhaps it is overkill to steal the phones of Daniel's little posse, but I cannot risk them calling Reaper for help.
That Ancient was useless on the final day of my reckoning. I trust them to do nothing but make things worse for Daniel. Imprinting be damned.
My core quivers uncomfortably in my chest. Not for the first time, I wonder why Daniel didn't imprint on me. Prior to Danielle's existence, Daniel and I were the only fellow halfas the other had ever met. I had experience, knowledge, and understanding to offer him. For a spell, I thought that he had imprinted on me and was simply in denial.
When he imprinted on his teacher, Eileen "Ms. Mae" Merryweather, I didn't think much of it. While uncommon, it is not unheard of for a young spirit to imprint upon two individuals. Then he started visiting Reaper all the time and referring to them as his "grim."
The teacher, I can understand. She seems very nice, and children tend to have a real respect for teachers they are particularly fond of.
But, Reaper? The only reason I can think of for that is Reaper's status as not just an Ancient, but an angel. Angels are second only to the Ancients in power - again, Reaper is both, so make of that what you will - and are renowned for their protective natures. I recently discovered that Daniel is an angel, so perhaps that has something to do with the imprinting.
Regardless, I knew Daniel long before either of those two did. Why not imprint on me?
I'm so deep into my musings, that I don't notice the small projectile heading my way until it beams me in the chest. At the same, purple-gray smoke surrounds me. The bitter stench assaults my nostrils and makes my head feel heavy.
The rest of me feels heavy too. Enough so that I find myself falling. A wave of pain shoots through me when I land on my back on the hard pavement of the road. I can't move. My limbs feel like they've been replaced with cinder blocks. My first thought is that some specter has hit me with a power I can't identify.
"The Wisconsin Ghost has been neutralized," a woman's voice says. I can't move my head, but my eyes dart in that direction and find a woman with curly blond hair speaking into a wrist com. "Operative B and I will bring him to base."
"Copy that, Operative L," comes the staticky response. "We'll have an examination room prepared by the time you get back."
"Roger," Operative L says to whomever is on the other line.
A man - Operative B, I presume - steps into my line of sight. He has black hair in a buzz cut and is much taller and more muscular than his petite companion. The duo wear matching white suits and dark sunglasses despite the hour-
I want to demand an explanation, but my tongue feels like a wad of cotton in my mouth.
I've just been incapacitated by the Guys in White. This would be bad enough without Daniel's reckoning to worry about! My core screams and claws at my insides. I can do nothing but whimper pitifully and hope these two don't hear it. The last thing I need is to show them how well whatever they hit me with worked.
Current status of literally dead weight aside…
I am powerless to stop Operative B from hoisting me over his shoulder like a sack. This is humiliating! At least no one is around to see.
Operative L raises an eyebrow. "You're really just going to pick him up without protection?"
"Do you see him fighting back?" Operative B argues. "That Fenton Smoker really works. Who knew those crazy Fentons would actually come in handy?"
The Fentons. Unbelievable.
On the bright side, if Jack was involved in the making of this "Fenton Smoker," the effects shouldn't last much longer. The moment I can twitch my fingers again, I'll break free and show these yahoos what for.
Operative B starts to carry me to their car-
"Hey, fellas!"
Oh, look! The universe is rubbing salt into the wound! Isn't that lovely?
I'm still dangling halfway over the agent's shoulder, but I don't need to see the vehicle or the man in question to know that it's the Ghost Assault Vehicle and Jack Fenton.
"Speak of the devil," Operative B mutters. To Jack, he says, "What are you doing here, Fenton?"
"I was stressed out over tomorrow," Jack replies, "so thought I'd take the Assault Vehicle for a spin. Then I noticed you guys busting out the Fenton Smoker. And, you caught Vlad Plasmius! Oh, man! Danny- Phantom," he adds at the last minute, "is going to be so happy!"
Good luck telling him. I still have his friends' ghost-made phones. Without those, there's no way for Jack to report this to Daniel, who will never let me live it down once he finds out. The only consolation is that the boy isn't here to point and laugh and crack jokes.
"His name is Vlad Plasmius?" Operative B asks. I know my ghost-form's true name is not universally known, but I'm surprised to hear a government agent ask.
Of course, the Guys in White aren't known for being competent. Which will make my escape that much easier once the effects of the Smoker wear off.
"His name could be Clark Kent for all I care," Operative L retorts. "Move along, Fenton. We have more important matters to attend to."
Jack gives them a cheerful, "Okay. Good luck with Plasmius!" before I hear the Assault Vehicle drive away.
Operative B lugs me the rest of the way to the car and throws me in the trunk. The most I do is grunt at the rough handling and the hard landing. I eagerly await the chance to turn this car into rubble. With the agents inside.
They both smirk at my prone form. "Enjoy the ride, Plasmius," Operative L says. "Once we're back at base, the real fun will begin."
Her partner slams the trunk shut, and I wrestle with panic when the car starts up. It lunges forward, making me roll and slam into siding; I know whoever is driving did that on purpose. My head takes the brunt of the impact, and stars are the only things I can see even with my impeccable night vision. I try to go intangible and phase out of the car, but nothing happens. The trunk or the car itself must be specially designed to keep ghosts in.
No worries. I will simply revert back to human-form and hope no one sees my unconventional exit. The transformation should also dull the Smoker's effects-
…
…Why…is nothing happening?
I focus on my core, on the desire to return to human-form. The tiniest speck of warmth skitters over my mid-section, but that's it. I'm still a ghost.
Which means that whatever was in that smoke is affecting more than my powers. Not good. Definitely not good. But-but, that's fine. The effects will wear off any minute now.
Right?
I'm still paralyzed when the trunk opens and the agents lay me on my back on a table someone wheeled out the door.
I still can't transform when I feel the metal cuffs slide over my wrists and ankles, strapping me down with my limbs spread out.
Government agents are wheeling my prone, powerless self into their makeshift base just outside of town. It's sinking in that I am at their mercy, and I can't panic properly because I still can't move or speak. I can't even move my head to get some sense of the direction they're taking me in. I try to pay attention to the way my visual of the overhead lights shift, but that only disorients me further.
How big is this place? How did they set it up so quickly? If I could, I would try to gain some intel on that.
My heart is hammering in my chest, and its pace quickens to impossible levels when Operatives L and B bring me into a small door. I hear the door slam shut.
There has to be a way out of this. I don't want to find out what this is.
I roll my eyes around to check for clues as to what is about to happen. From the little I can see in my periphery, there is a table on either side of me, though I can't make out what's on them. I hear shuffling coming from near the door and soon find my captors standing over me. This time, they are wearing coveralls - white, of course - and goggles that reveal brown eyes on both of them. Operative L's hair is tied back in a low ponytail. When she turns around, I see that her scrunchie is also white.
Why are these people so obsessed with that color? Even the walls are painted white!
Operative B grabs something off a table and holds it up: a small video camera. Such an innocent object. Such a raw terror it invokes.
What are they going to do to me?
Can't move. Can't become intangible. Can't transform.
Stuck. I am utterly stuck.
"Make sure you get my good side, Brian," Operative L says with a flip of her ponytail.
"I will, Lacey. I will," her partner says with a fond eye roll.
Brian. Lacey. They have names. They banter. They're people.
Why does that make this worse?
Operative B - I can't use their names - presses a button. "Begin."
Operative L speaks to the camera in a clipped, professional tone. "The date is July 22, 2007. Time, 11:48 pm."
11:48 pm. Twelve minutes until midnight, until it will officially be the final day of Daniel's reckoning. My core wails in agony at the thought.
I tune out the rest of Operative L's introduction. What if I'm still here when Daniel's rampage starts? No one else is powerful enough to hold him back. Except for Reaper, but I made certain that they wouldn't come and that no one could contact them. I regret that now.
Daniel may be strong in body, but he's fragile in heart. I remember him weeping against me the night he found me in a fixation-induced haze. I remember the hollow shell he became after his mother told him not to come home.
I remember him ignoring his dislike of me and coming to my aid when my fixation was at its worst. I remember him telling me off and then his demeanor doing a complete one-eighty because my core was hurting.
Such a tender soul. I warned him about that, but that was before I knew he was an angel. Angels are not without sin, but they are gentle by nature, with an indiscriminate desire to protect. That part of Daniel will never change. (I don't want it to.)
"You say that people saw you as a monster, not a person. I'm no better. I mean, you are a monster, but monsters are still people. You may think that people can't change, but I've seen it happen. There's good in you, Vlad Masters."
A single cold teardrop rolls down my temple.
"I will now begin the procedure," Operative L says, pulling me from my thoughts.
She turns to me without emotion. There is a pair of scissors in her gloved hand. I feel the dull side of the blade slide against my stomach and up to my chest. She is cutting my shirt off.
I don't understand until she sets the scissors down and picks up something else. It glimmers in the artificial lighting. It too has a blade.
A scalpel.
No…
The smoke's effects are ever present. I've never been so exposed, so…helpless.
The scalpel draws nearer. I want to beg, to scream, to blow this room to smithereens so that no ghost will ever have to suffer such a fate.
I feel the piercing pain of the blade. My whimpers and the flow of my tears strengthen as the scalpel glides effortlessly through my skin, starting in the center of my chest and ending below my navel. Two more cuts from my shoulders to the top of the first incision.
Stop.
My skin is peeled back, sending new waves of fire through me. The agents gasp at what they find.
Operative L whirls on her partner. "Are you getting this?"
I see Operative B's Adam's apple bobbing. He's a little green around the gills. "It's so…human."
"Will you be okay?" Operative L asks him.
He swallows again. "Yeah. Just…wasn't expecting it."
Stop.
Operative L gazes at my…my innards in a way that is equal parts disturbed and fascinated. "This is the most complex ghost we've ever seen. Let's take a closer look."
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Danny
By the time my phone rings, I've pulled myself together. I step out of my lair and answer the call as I fly to Reaper's lair. "Hey, Dad. How's-"
"Danny!" I almost drop my phone. "Danny, can you hear me?!"
Too well. "Uh, Dad, you don't need to-"
"These ghost phones are amazing! Thanks again for getting them for your mom and me!"
I managed to snag some for my parents the other day. I figured it would be a good idea for them to have their own in case they needed me while I was in the Ghost Zone.
"Don't worry! We didn't tell anyone! Danny! Can you hear me, son?!"
"Yes, but I won't hear anything if you keep screaming!" A group of blob-like demons look up from the card game they're playing on a floating rock. I stop, point to my phone, and say, "Dad's first cellphone." The ghosts smile in sympathy, and I continue my flight path.
Dad graciously speaks at a normal volume. "Can you hear me if I talk like this?"
"Loud and clear, Dad," I assure. "How is everything?"
"Everything just got better! You now have one less thing to worry about."
I shouldn't hope, but… "You mean, you all decided to go on a last-minute road trip?"
"No, but you'll like this too. You know Vlad Plasmius? Your arch-enemy? The ghost we know for a fact is pure evil?"
I have a hunch that I won't like this as much as Dad thinks I will. "I know who Plasmius is." In more ways than one. "What about him?"
"He just got captured by the Guys in White!"
I halt mid-air.
Dad rambles on, ignorant of the shrieking of my core, of the tiny pained sound that escapes my throat because of it. "Isn't that great? Your number one enemy is out of the picture, so there's no chance of him causing any trouble while you're away. The Guys in White even used the Fenton Smoker on him! He'll be unable to move or fight back or, well, anything else. For hours!"
Reaper's gothic-mansion-like lair is in view, so close yet so far. "Uh, that's great, Dad," I say and hope he doesn't hear the quiver in my voice. "Look, I gotta go."
I hang up before he can respond. I check the time on my phone. 11:53. That's cutting it pretty close, but surely Reaper would have said if my rampage would start at the stroke of midnight.
They also said that Clockwork foresaw that I would attack the town, though the Master of Time did not disclose why.
I can't think about that.
Vlad is a self-centered asshole with no concern for anyone but himself. And, yet...
The day we met, he let me help him in the kitchen, and we ended up having fun.
His fixation started because he didn't want my reckoning to end the way his did.
He didn't complain or insult me or push me away when I wept over how screwed up my home life was at the time.
He let me spend the night with him and made me breakfast the next morning when my mother told me not to come home.
"If any good came out of this, it's that ten years without ghost powers have given me a chance to see what a fool I'd been."
"Take my advice, Danny. Don't lose yourself."
I've been a victim of the Fenton Smoker before, and I can confirm that you really are helpless under its effects. God only knows what Vlad is being subjected to.
The tiny white numbers on the screen change to 11:54. Six minutes. I can do this in six minutes. I have to.
I could be evoking exactly what Clockwork said would happen, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't take the risk.
I put my phone away and summon my scythe. I cut myself a portal to Earth and leap through it, willing the scythe and the portal away immediately after.
The goal was to portal directly into the makeshift base, but it figures that they would have measures to prevent that sort of thing. I inch around the side of the building and try phasing through. Predictably, it doesn't work. There has to be a way in. I lower my head in thought-
Hm. Lower…
On a whim, I phase into the ground and crawl a few feet through the dirt. Turning invisible, I poke my head up through the foundation. I fly the rest of the way and hover in the hallway, marveling at the fact that my stupid idea actually worked.
"Alert! Alert! Rogue ghost detected!"
Crud. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
Red lights flash, and the mechanical voice bellows its warning. The handful of agents milling about stop what they're doing and pull weapons off their belts. I'm still invisible, but they all aim at me at once. There must be sensors on those ecto-guns.
I leap out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting hit by three beams at once.
"We're locked on you, spook," one agent calls out, confirming the sensor theory. "You may as well show yourself."
Another stupid idea hits. Staying invisible, I revert back to human-form.
The agents look at their weapons in confusion. "Where'd it go?" one of them says.
The third and the only woman in the hallway moves her ecto-gun around. "I'm picking up a spike in ecto-energy, so it's definitely still here."
"It must be cloaking itself somehow," the second Guy says.
While they ponder that, I tiptoe down the hall. Every instinct is telling me to sprint, but I can't risk being heard. I can fly in human-form but not very well, and I don't want to let off any more energy than I need to. Being caught will only make things worse. At least that ear-splitting alarm is gone, though the flashing lights remain.
How big is this place? It looks so small from the outside, and despite how many times I've come here for weapons testing, I'm still amazed.
I pass by a manual clock and note with increasing dread that I now only have four minutes until midnight strikes. I pick up the pace but needlessly hide behind a trash can when the leader of this group - a beefy guy with a shaved head whom everyone refers to as "Admin" - throws open a door.
"Finish up later, you two," he barks at the people in the room. "I know you heard the alarm."
"But, sir-" a man's voice starts.
Admin doesn't let him finish. "Plasmius isn't going anywhere." My pulse skips. "You know ghosts can't get past those walls."
Maybe not ghosts…
A man and a woman run out of the room, and Admin slams the door shut and barks orders into a wrist com. Once they move past me and out of sight - three minutes and counting - I leap for the door and phase through it.
A sharp, choking gasp bursts out of me.
On either side of the room are two long metal tables covered in jars and bottles of liquid and various sharp things. One of those sharp things is a scalpel that is stained with the neon green of ectoplasm. Vlad Plasmius lies on the table between them with his wrists and ankles strapped down on the corners of the table. His shirt has been cut off, and…
Ancients beyond.
In my tenure as the guardian of Amity Park, I've seen a lot of gruesome things. Limbs burned down to the bone. Torn skin with bones protruding from it. I even once saw intestines spilled out of a corpse.
Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Vlad's skin has been peeled back, revealing…everything. Even from the door, I can see his organs. All of them. Human organs, each in a different shade of green and carrying a soft glow.
I could have gone my whole existence not knowing what I looked like on the inside.
Quiet sobs snap me out of it. Dropping the invisibility, I rush to Vlad's side and force myself to look at his face instead of his…other stuff. Green tear tracks line his temples. Fresh ones fall when he sees me and squeezes his red eyes shut while a slightly louder sob breaks loose. I can't begin to imagine how much pain he's in.
"It's okay," I breathe even though it is anything but okay. "I'm here. I- Oh god, is that your core?" I shouldn't have looked, but how can anyone not look?
Like the rest of his vital organs, Vlad's heart is on full display behind his ribcage; his bones are the only parts I can see that are the exact color of ectoplasm. Possibly because he's in ghost-form, his organs don't move, as if they are grotesquely accurate sculptures. Vlad's heart, however, contracts the slightest bit every few seconds. It would beat much more slowly if he wasn't as scared as he is. A brighter light shines from within his heart. That might sound poetic if I didn't know that was his core encased in the wet, squishy…whatever a heart is made of.
A gag escapes me. I've developed a strong stomach since my death, but this is almost too much.
I shake my head clear and fight through the nausea. "Focus, focus," I mutter to myself.
I transform and pray that the agents' sensors won't find me. The Healing Touch works better when I'm in ghost-form. Vlad lets out a pained breath. Some deeper instinct makes me brush my fingers through his black hair, which is out of its usual horn-like style and is lying limp around his head. We lock eyes then, and the sheer relief and fear in his nearly undoes me.
The pounding of my heart worsens the ache in my core. My core that is encased within my heart. I knew they were fused into one singular organ, but now I know what that looks like and I wish I didn't.
My head and body swerve back and forth, scanning the tables and the surrounding area. "Um…did-did they…" Take anything? I can't get the words out. The jars are empty. There's no sign of anything out of place.
Probably?
I curse myself for not paying more attention in health class.
"I-I'm just going to assume that…everything is," I wave my hands over Vlad's…parts, "in there. Um, this-this is going to be…very…not fun." For either of us. My shaking hands reach for the…skin flaps. "Should-should I…do it slowly or… I'm just gonna do it. I'm sorry."
I fold the opened skin back into place as quickly as I can. The noise Vlad makes is as close to a scream as the Fenton Smoker will allow him to make. I whisper apology after apology and place my hands over the incision. A soft yellow glow envelopes my hands as I pour everything I have into the Healing Touch.
Vlad
I don't know what Daniel is doing here.
I don't know how or even if he learned of my predicament before now.
What I do know is that I am as happy to see him as I am horrified. Whether he knew I was here or not, he is putting himself at great risk.
Especially given how close it is to midnight.
At first, I feared that the boy would purge all over me. Fortunately, he'd gotten a hold of himself and is now making good use of his Healing Touch. The raging agony he had brought on by unceremoniously slapping my skin back together is soothed by the pleasant warmth of his power.
As effective as that ability is, I know how much energy it takes for him to use it. And, I know he is trying to remove the effects of that abysmal smoke as well.
This goes on for a short time. My tongue is still numb but less so. The most I can croak out is, "Da…Danny…"
"I'm here, Uncle Vlad." His voice is as gentle as his hands. "I'll get you out of this."
The Healing Touch has turned his irises yellow for the time being. He isn't looking at me, choosing to glare down at his glowing hands. Now that his initial shock has worn off, Daniel is stone-faced in his determination.
Why is he helping me? Why is he risking his safety? Why is he risking Clockwork's prediction coming true?
What could Daniel possibly have to gain from this? It can't merely be his Obsession, can it?
I experiment by trying to clench my hand into a fist. It works. The other hand does the same. My fingers are stiff, but they are moving. The Healing Touch is truly an incredible power, and I understand why it is exclusive to angels. Though it is ineffective on the user, I can see a lot of ghosts, myself included, finding ways to abuse such a gift.
When I speak, my voice is soft and raspy, but at least I am capable of speaking. "Daniel, I can move again. At least to an extent."
Daniel grabs the restraints and rips them off one by one. He then offers to help me sit up and doesn't take no for an answer. While I slowly angle my heavy arms to push myself upright, Daniel rests one hand on my back and the other on my chest. Working together, we work me into a sitting position. I reign in the desire to weep with relief.
Which becomes more difficult when Daniel asks, "How do you feel? Can you use your powers?"
I do a few tests. No invisibility. No ecto-energy comes to my hand when called. I cannot levitate off the table or return to human-form.
I tell Daniel the bad news, and he says with that same steely determination, "I can fix that. Internal stuff takes longer, but-"
I smack his hand away when he starts up the Healing Touch again. "I can talk and move, and that's more than I could say before you showed up." I lower my gaze and add as an afterthought. "Thank you for that."
"Don't thank me until we're out of here."
Daniel walks up to the wall and fires twin ghost rays at it. When that does nothing but leave a large char mark, he calls on his scythe and tries to make a portal. When that doesn't work either, he teleports the scythe away and simply kicks the wall.
"Anyone can tell you that this room was designed to keep ghosts in," I drawl.
He whirls on me, but whatever smart remark he had ready is forgotten. "You're…really calm."
What he means is, How can you be so calm when you've just been sliced open and dug around inside of while still conscious? "It's called adrenalin, Daniel," I say. I grunt as I carefully lift myself off of that dreaded table and stand on quivering legs. My cut-up shirt flaps open like an unzipped jacket. "This will all hit me like a truck later."
The door slams open, and the look on Daniel's face makes me think that it will hit me right now.
I turn around and find none other than Operatives B and L charging in. Operative B's hands are encased in some sort of oversized mechanical gloves. His partner holds a small but no doubt powerful ecto-gun.
The sight of them makes my pulse skyrocket, my recently-exposed stomach swirl. I feel myself breathing involuntarily - a bad sign when in ghost-form - and I tremble from my head to my toes. I need to steady myself somehow. Now is not the time for a panic attack.
I despise showing weakness. I hate that they can see it in me. And, that this isn't the first time.
"Should have guessed you were the rogue ghost," Operative L sneers at Daniel, who positions himself in front of me. "Come to save your buddy, huh?"
A low, dangerous growl reverberates from Daniel. This is typically where he would throw out some witty banter or a clever quip. Not now. My core purrs at his protectiveness, the feeling a stark contrast to our current situation.
Operative B pounds his encased fists together. "Two of you monsters in the same ghost-proof room. Do you realize how easy you're making this?"
Monsters. This agent is hardly the first person to call us that, nor will he be the last. The word has always stung, but now it carries a new meaning because I know what they do to monsters in this place. Or rather, to those they presume to be monsters.
And, Daniel knows too, even if he was not on the receiving end.
What these agents fail to realize is that they are at a serious disadvantage. I may be without my powers at the moment, but Daniel isn't. His power has been growing likely since the day he died. Time and experience have made him stronger, bolder, but softer as well. I once thought that softness was his greatest weakness. Now I am grateful for it, for his Obsession with helping others, for his status as an angel, a guardian to all.
Another thing these agents don't realize is that monsters are most dangerous when they're afraid.
That last sentence is paraphrased from King's Cage by Victoria Aveyard.
Why are there no Vlad-vivisection fics? I've seen plenty for Danny, but none for Vlad? Idk, I feel like that's a huge missed opportunity.