AU — OOC (is it really? Damn it.)

TW: Strong Language — Emotional Distress

~ Spill The Acid ~

I need a gangsta, to love me better than all the others do

To always forgive me, ride or die with me

That's just what gangsters do

- Kehlani

He didn't want to hide the truth—of course not. There was no reason to hold it back, no reason to sugarcoat it. But still, the words had come out sharp, cutting, unfiltered. Had he lost his rationality? His empathy? No. That wasn't it. Was he being selfish? Maybe. But how could he not be?

Everyone in his life had turned their back on him—or at least, it felt that way. Didn't he just do the same to his former best friends? The two people who betrayed him last year? The two who cheated on him behind his back, forcing him to shove that memory so far down he thought it was gone?

The rain poured down steadily, drenching everything in its path. It fell in cool, rhythmic droplets, sliding down his face, pooling at the edges of his jaw. It was refreshing, almost cleansing, like a reset for his frayed nerves. The sensation was grounding—the chill of each raindrop kissing his cold icy skin, the gentle sting as it trickled over his cheeks. It felt pure, unrelenting, and honest in a way nothing else had been lately.

Danny tilted his face upward, letting the rain hit him directly, his ghostly white hair plastered against his forehead. It was cold, but he welcomed it. The tiny streams traced paths down his neck, running over the curve of his collarbone and dripping onto his chest. It felt alive, real—like a silent promise that he wasn't entirely falling apart.

But even the rain couldn't cool the anger bubbling inside him, simmering just beneath the surface. It was the kind of anger that didn't need a reason anymore. It simply existed, feeding on itself.

Still, he was glad he had turned back into Phantom. The transformation brought a sense of relief, of control. His core purred steadily, power coursing through his ectoplasmic veins, making him feel stronger, less fragile. There was no human vulnerability here, no trembling hands or weak knees. He wasn't weighed down by the exhaustion that came with being human.

It was a strange comfort, but he didn't mind. Being Phantom felt like freedom, even if it also meant feeling a little less alive.

Swirling in wide, chaotic loops through the cloudy sky, Danny felt the cold rain pelting against him. The clouds above were thick and heavy, a stormy gray that seemed to swallow the last traces of daylight. The world below was dim and blurred, shrouded by sheets of rain that reflected the city lights in fractured, shimmering patterns.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. The day had passed in a haze, each moment bleeding into the next, so overwhelming it felt like it had all happened in the span of an hour. An emotional rollercoaster didn't even begin to describe it.

Danny sighed, the sound lost to the wind as he spiraled upward again, his ghostly form cutting through the rain like a blur of white light. The clouds above churned, illuminated occasionally by faint flashes of lightning in the distance. But his mind refused to rest, replaying the moments, the feelings, the words exchanged.

First, there was the moment with Jazz. For once, he felt… kind of loved. The stupid paper crown she'd placed on his head, the little cupcake with a single candle—it was all so ridiculous, yet it made him laugh. For a fleeting moment, it made him happy. It was simple, childlike even, but it reminded him of something he thought he'd lost entirely. Care.

Second, the fight with Maddie. Her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. You're a danger. The phrase echoed in his mind like a cruel taunt, digging deeper than he thought possible. He tried to brush it off, to act like it didn't hurt, but it did. God, it did. Because she wasn't just anyone—she was his own damn mother. And she didn't see him anymore, only the ghost she feared.

Third, Valerie. He had hoped, desperately, that she could have helped him. Not in the way a friend would, but in a way that was wrong, twisted. He wanted her to relief him, to give him the misery he craved, the release he thought he needed. Of course, she didn't. She wouldn't. She cared about him—about Danny. And that made him feel even worse because it wasn't what he wanted. Not from her.

Fourth, Sam. She remembered his birthday. Of course, she didn't forget. Her words, her presence—it made him feel happy. Loved, even. But then he kissed her. Why? Why? Did he still have feelings for her? No. Probably not. So what came over him? What had pushed him to cross that line? He couldn't answer it, and the uncertainty clawed at his chest.

Fifth, his transformation. Turning back into his human form. That wasn't planned. Not at all. What caused it? It had to be the feelings—the sensation of being loved. Just like before, during the fake-out makeouts, his emotions had betrayed him. His body had shifted, forcing him to confront the human part of himself he wanted so badly to forget.

Sixth, throwing up. Feeling vulnerable. Weak. That was the worst of it all. He hadn't planned for that either. It was humiliating, degrading, and it broke him in ways he hadn't expected. And it had all happened on his eighteenth birthday. How fucking awesome.

Seventh, the betrayal. The emotional wound that had never truly healed. His two former best friends—Tucker and Sam. They weren't his friends anymore. They had left him, abandoned him. Cheated on him behind his back. He had buried that memory deep, but now it resurfaced with a vengeance, raw and unforgiving. What had he been thinking, trusting them again?

What a mess, he thought, his chest tightening as the memory of his outburst hit him again.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was the other memory. The one that wouldn't let go. The one that lingered, gnawing at him like a parasite.

The emotional pain was unbearable—but it wasn't the kind of pain he wanted. No. That wasn't enough. He didn't want to feel this hollow ache, this suffocating weight in his chest. He wanted real pain. Pain that could tear through the fog of his emotions and silence his mind. Pain that could leave marks, proof that he wasn't just feeling—he was experiencing.

He needed it now, more than ever. Not to feel alive—he'd had enough of that over the past few hours. Being human again had been suffocating in its own way, and it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like him.

The betrayal, the heartbreak, the anger… it was too much. He didn't want this.

He wanted to forget. To drown it out. To numb everything. But he couldn't do it alone. He needed someone to do it for him. Because that was the only way he could silence the chaos inside.

Stick to the plan. Danny thought, his mind racing to stay focused. He needed to go to the Ghost Zone. That was the only logical choice, right?

What other option did he even have left? None, really. Except for one—the ghost portal in Vlad's lab.

Danny's eyes narrowed as he flew higher, the city lights flickering below him like distant stars. Vlad had moved to Amity Park when he became mayor. Was that the only reason? Of course not. There was always more with Vlad. Everything he did had layers of manipulation beneath it. He moved here to be closer to Maddie, to taunt Jack, to remind Danny at every turn of his sick, twisted obsession.

That sick, twisted mind.

But despite it all, the portal in Vlad's lab was the only viable option. Danny didn't have time to pick apart the past or dwell on why Vlad was his enemy. That part was obvious. Vlad Masters had done everything he could to make Danny's life a fucking hell, all while claiming he wanted to 'help.'

The man had tried to clone him, for crying out loud. A perfect son, created from Danny's DNA—a halfa just like him. Danny clenched his fists at the memory, his jaw tightening. It was disgusting, wrong on so many levels, and yet…

Maybe, just maybe, Vlad is the solution after all.

No. He shook his head, banishing the thought. That wasn't the reason he was doing this. He wasn't going to Vlad for help. He just needed his portal to get to the Ghost Zone. That was it. There had to be nothing more to it. Right?

Still, the doubt lingered, gnawing at him as he flew further, the edges of the city falling away into darkness. The cold rain continued to beat against him, but it did little to clear his mind.

As he reached the edge of Amity Park, his gaze locked on Vlad's mansion looming in the distance. The grand, white structure stood out against the darkened skyline, its sharp spires and glowing windows radiating a sense of foreboding.

Danny's chest tightened as it came into full view. He hated that place. It was a prison of lies, manipulation, and power plays. And now he was willingly heading toward it.

He flew down, his white soaked sneakers landing softly on the marble porch. The sound of rain pattering against the roof was the only noise as he approached the heavy, ornate wooden door. Before he could even raise a hand to knock or press the doorbell, the door creaked open with an ominous groan.

Danny's gaze shifted upward, his stomach twisting slightly as he saw Vlad Masters standing there, framed in the doorway. The man's gray hair was slicked back into its usual ponytail, and his sharp suit, complete with a black coat draped over his shoulders, radiated his signature smug arrogance. One hand rested casually behind his back, the other tugged at the collar of his coat.

"Ah, Daniel," Vlad greeted, a familiar, sly grin stretching across his face, as if he had been waiting for this moment. "What brings you here? Long time no see. Come now, step inside before you catch a cold in this dreadful rain."

Danny raised an eyebrow, his instincts immediately prickling. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he studied Vlad's expression, trying to read him. "You knew I was coming, didn't you?" he asked, his voice low and skeptical.

"Well, my dear boy," Vlad replied smoothly, his grin widening. "I know everything… and nothing." His voice dripped with that wisdom he loved to project, a tone that grated on Danny's nerves. It was as if he couldn't help but play the part of an all-knowing villain, even now.

Danny's eyes narrowed slightly. Was he always this insufferable? The man wasn't actually old—he was the same age as his parents—but his pompous demeanor made him seem ancient, like he had stepped straight out of a black-and-white movie. Maddie and his dad had gone to college with him, after all. Did that make them old too?

Danny hesitated, the weight of the decision hitting him. Something about stepping inside Vlad's mansion felt… wrong. It was like walking into the lion's den. But what choice did he have? None. This was his only option. Right?

With a resigned sigh, Danny stepped over the threshold, his sneakers echoing softly against the polished floor. The massive hallway stretched before him, its high ceilings and elaborate decor so extravagant it could have been its own tiny apartment.

He barely had time to take in the grand staircase or the imposing paintings on the walls before the door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang. The sound echoed through the mansion, sending a small shiver up Danny's spine. He flinched slightly, but quickly masked it, glancing back over his shoulder at the now-closed door.

"So, I'll ask again," Vlad said smoothly, his voice laced with that familiar air of superiority. "What brings you here, Daniel?"

Danny turned slowly, his eyes locking with Vlad's. His body felt heavy, worn down by the day's events, but he forced himself to stand tall. "I need to go to the Ghost Zone," he said simply, his tone flat but firm.

Vlad arched an eyebrow, his sharp gaze trailing over Danny like he was assessing damage. But instead of answering, Vlad's expression shifted, and he tilted his head slightly. "Oh, cheese cakes," he muttered, his attention zeroing in on Danny's left eye, lingering on the scar that marred the side of his face.

"What happened to you?" Vlad asked, his voice casual, but there was a faint edge of curiosity—or perhaps amusement—beneath it. He ignored Danny's words entirely, as if his need to reach the Ghost Zone was irrelevant.

Danny bristled. Of course, Vlad would focus on that. He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as his arms hung limp at his sides. "Long story. I don't…" he hesitated, his jaw tightening. The last thing he wanted was to bond with this man, to share anything personal with him. No. That wasn't going to happen.

But still, there was a strange, nagging urge to explain. He hated it, hated himself for even considering it. With a frustrated sigh, he closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to collect himself, before looking back at Vlad.

Vlad's grin widened slightly, as if he could see the internal battle playing out behind Danny's silence. "Come now," he said, stepping forward with calculated ease. Before Danny could protest, he felt Vlad's arm drape over his shoulders, a gesture that felt more possessive than comforting.

The older man steered him through the mansion's grand halls, pushing him toward another room. Danny didn't resist, but his stomach churned with unease. He hated this—the proximity, the way Vlad acted like they were somehow equals or allies.

They entered what Danny assumed was the living room. He'd been here before, too many times to count, but tonight it felt different. The massive fireplace flickered with warm light, casting long shadows across the room. Above it, a large flat-screen TV dominated the wall. The furniture—plush, red, and castle-like—stood out against the dark wooden floors, while the dining table stretched imposingly with twelve high-backed chairs surrounding it.

Danny's eyes darted around the space, taking in the grandeur he had once dismissed as over-the-top. Now, it felt suffocating. Vlad's presence loomed beside him. Was this even a good idea to come here?

Danny clenched his fists, trying to push down the lingering discomfort. This wasn't a place of safety—it never had been. Yet here he was, standing in the heart of his enemy's domain, wondering how it had come to this. But deep down, Danny knew. Of course he knew.

Vlad guided Danny to the couch, his grip firm but not forceful. Before Danny could protest, Vlad gave a slight push on his right shoulder, forcing him to sit down. The message was clear—Speak up. Say what's on your mind.

But Danny didn't want to. Why the fuck would he?

Vlad was his arch-enemy, the epitome of everything wrong in his life. This man had manipulated him, betrayed him, tried to clone him. Danny's jaw tightened as he stared at the ornate carpet beneath his feet, his hands gripping the edge of the couch to stop them from trembling. There's no way I'm giving him what he wants.

Vlad settled into the single, high-backed chair to Danny's right, crossing one leg over the other with the kind of poise only Vlad could pull off. His hands steepled in front of him, his piercing blue eyes fixed on Danny with a calm intensity that made Danny's stomach churn.

Was he waiting for something?

Danny's gaze flickered to him briefly before snapping back to the carpet. Of course, he's waiting. Waiting for him to collapse, to show weakness, to make himself vulnerable.

Well, screw that.

Danny straightened his back, forcing himself to sit taller. He wouldn't let Vlad see the cracks, wouldn't give him the satisfaction. No matter how heavy his chest felt or how badly his thoughts spiraled, he wouldn't let it show. The best option? Stay silent. Shutting his mouth was the only way to maintain control, the only way to keep Vlad guessing.

Danny glanced at him again, narrowing his eyes slightly. Vlad's expression was unreadable, calm yet calculating, his gaze steady but not pressing. It only fueled Danny's unease, like he was being studied, analyzed.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, but Danny refused to be the one to break it.

But then…

Out of nowhere, every word began to spill from Danny's lips. He couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried. The dam he'd carefully built around his emotions finally burst, and everything came pouring out—everything he'd been holding back.

Danny told Vlad everything.

Everything that had broken him, scarred him, and left him clinging to what little remained of his sanity. He began with the betrayal—the moment everything shifted. Then came the nightmare of being captured by the GiW, dragged into their sterile hellhole of a facility where he was nothing more than a lab rat. He described, voice shaking, how he was experimented on like a science project, how every test and every invasive procedure chipped away at his sense of self.

And then came the worst of it—his own parents. His fucking parents.

He didn't hold back as he recounted what they did. How Maddie—the woman who was supposed to protect him—cut into him. Vivisected him. When he was still conscious, trying to get out his core. The cold, surgical precision of her hands as she worked over him like he was a specimen, not her son. He didn't spare the details of the scars they left behind—scars that would remain etched into his body for the rest of his life, a permanent reminder that he was no longer whole. Scarred for half a life.

He told Vlad about the manipulation. How they twisted his mind, convincing themselves—and trying to convince him—that he wasn't Danny. That he was just a ghost who had possessed their son, a subject for their experiments, nothing more. They stripped him of his identity, his humanity, and left him hollow inside.

And then he told him about today. About how he hadn't turned human in almost a year. About the sheer chaos of the transformation, the way it forced him to confront everything he tried to bury. How it made him feel alive when he didn't want to be. How it felt wrong.

The words kept spilling out, faster than he could stop them, his voice rising and breaking as he spoke. He wanted to stop. God, he wanted to stop. But the more he tried to choke them back, the harder they pushed to escape.

It was like his entire soul was unraveling in front of Vlad, every hidden wound, every buried memory spilling out into the open. And what terrified him most was that he couldn't stop it. He needed to let it out, like a poison that had to be purged, even if it was to the wrong person.

Or… wasn't Vlad the wrong person?

Tears streamed freely down his face, cold and crystal as ice, soaking his cheeks as his voice cracked under the weight of his confessions. His breaths were uneven, hitching between sobs. Every memory, every wound, every betrayal burned fresh in his mind as he spoke, his words tumbling out without care for how they sounded.

When he finally stopped, the silence in the room was deafening. He raised a trembling hand, swiping at his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his hoodie, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He felt raw, exposed, like his very soul had been laid bare for Vlad to see.

Danny glanced up, expecting to see Vlad's usual smirk, but what he saw instead froze him. Vlad's grin had shifted into something else entirely—something… curious, yet tinged with pity. It was weird. What the fuck? Danny had never seen Vlad look like this before.

For all his outpouring, there was one thing Danny didn't say. He didn't mention the part about what he wanted—no, what he needed. The physical pain, being restrained, the twisted relief that only someone else could give him. He knew how wrong it was, how dark those thoughts were, and he buried them deep inside, keeping them hidden. For now. Right?

"I just... need to go to the Ghost Zone," Danny muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper as he sniffled and wiped his tears away again with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Vlad leaned forward, resting a hand on Danny's right shoulder, the motion unsettlingly calm. "You know, Daniel," he began, his voice smooth, low, almost fatherly in a way that made Danny's stomach twist, "I would never turn my back on you, the way your parents did. You should know that."

Danny stiffened, his shoulders tensing under Vlad's hand.

Vlad's grin softened, his gaze steady and disarming. "You could… stay here, if you like. With me. No judgment. No betrayal. Just someone who truly understands what you're going through."

Danny's eyes widened slightly, his chest tightening as he processed Vlad's words. His core hummed faintly, a reaction he couldn't quite control, betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside him. Did his arch-enemy really just—say that?

The way Vlad spoke, with a deliberate softness that felt so out of character, caught Danny completely off guard. It wasn't the usual calculated malice or patronizing tone that he expected. This was something different, something unnervingly gentle, like a trap carefully wrapped in silk.

And yet…

As much as he wanted to recoil, to push Vlad's words away as manipulative lies, part of him couldn't help but feel tempted. The offer of safety, of someone who wouldn't turn their back on him, was intoxicating in its simplicity. He hated that it appealed to him, hated that a tiny sliver of hope flickered in the darkest corner of his mind.

He swallowed hard, his fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie.

Was it real? Could he even trust it?

Or worse—did he want to?

Okay, heavy chapter—again. And once more, it's a longer one, so I need to end here.

"I don't trust Vlad. Not a single hair on my entire body thinks about staying here. The ONLY thing I need is to get to the FUCKING Ghost Zone!" Danny yells at me, his voice sharp and filled with a lot of frustration.

Danny, calm down. You made the choice to come here, to Vlad. Don't take it out on me!

"Yeah, sure. Okay, you're right," Danny says after a moment, his tone softer, though the edge hasn't entirely left his voice. "He's the only person who understands me, right? The ONLY one?"

Well… I DO understand you. But let's face it—I don't exist in your world, so… there's that.

Danny rolls his eyes at me, annoyed, as if he's trying to ignore the reality of his situation. His gaze drifts, lost in thought, as he tries to figure out what the fuck he's going to do next.

What will Danny do next? Good question.