Author's Note: Hey, everyone. I just wanted to warn you all that this fic is does contain Graphic Depections of Violence and Major Character Death, if those make you make you uncomfortable or uninterested, I would recommend you to not read this fic. I sadly could not tag them like in Ao3, so i just want to warn you of that upfront. I have also uploaded this fic to Ao3 under the username thatsomebody years prior; although, I decided to also upload it here. I will update the chapters here every two days or so until it catches up to the amount of chapters it has on Ao3. The major warnings will be listed below author's note. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my fic!

WARNING: This fic contains child abuse, manipulation, violence, kidnapping, and major character death.

Danny groaned from the brutal impact. Sharp pebbles in concrete slashed his arms, contributing to the bruises and gashes from the fight before. Together, these injuries hotly throbbed against his nerves. Their echoes repeatedly revived the pain, letting up for a moment before striking over and over again—a torture rhythm.

Danny wouldn't rest, despite this vivid pain. The possibility of danger was still there, still near; however, his surroundings were currently colorful mush. Every structure was wobbly. Unable to make up their minds about where they wanted to stay. The neon light rays didn't help. Instead, they burned his eyes, overlapping their dull counterparts' outlines.

A sharp honk stabbed his eardrums, making languor disperse from his body along with an ectoblast that, thankfully, flew above the angry semi into empty air.

As Danny picked himself up, an unfamiliar grogginess grabbed at his limbs and made him stumble more than he'd like to admit. Many people were around him, gathering too close. It was uncanny compared to their usual freaked out reactions. Voices fluctuated, overtaking his ears with their ping-pong nonsense. He tried to grasp onto what they were saying; all voices would dwindled like sand specks in a hand, impossible to hold onto. And when he did reach out a hand, the crowd would ripple away from him but then would weirdly return. Had their survival instincts decreased into the negatives overnight or something?

The crowd shifted again. And Danny couldn't help but stupidly think that, finally, he would be left alone. This was proven wrong when a group of police circled him. Their cluster of navy uniforms stood out prominently against other diverse colors. Well, at least they weren't ghosts hunters. But why they were even here? They haven't gotten involved with ghosts before, always sniveling into themselves or running away whenever a ghost even got near them, so why bother now?

One of the many police officers, along with two people in weirdly, colorful outfits—almost like clowns—decided it was a good idea to approach Danny. Perhaps the two additions were some type of new backup? Not that their presences would matter in the end; normal guns were pretty useless against him. The lead officer's mouth was moving now. But whatever came out of the officer's mouth was unheard underneath the white noise that infested his ears. Seriously, could he not get a break? After his long battle against Stulker and barely managed escape, all he wanted was to go to bed, fall back to sleep, and ignore the fact that he will have skipped school again.

So, in a weak, raspy voice, Danny said, "Go 'way."

The yammer of the officer and crowd dissolved into silence. This gave Danny peace—for a few seconds. Then the crowd began to converse afterwards, and they were louder. Just his luck.

When the officer talked once more, there was something off that coated their tone. Besides that, not much had changed about the officer's behavior toward Danny surprisingly. Most would scream or shoot or commit a mixture of both against him by now. But this officer still talked like they were in a speed talk competition. To be honest, he might've found someone more talkative than Tucker geeking about his tech. That's not a good thing, by the way.

"Go away!" he shouted.

This seemed to make the officer give up on talking to him to, instead, talk to the colorful pair. Are they serious right now? Really, they came to bother him and seriously thought he would—what?—tolerate their crap, when they don't give him a sliver of their time. This was just hypocritical of them at this point.

So, in response, he fled. Or he would have, had it not been delayed by a brown blur grabbing onto his leg and keeping him tethered to the earth below. There was slight discomfort as the limb pricked his leg, most likely creating another tear in his hazmat suit and future rage in Sam. Wait, was the "brown blur" was actually a branch? Since when did the police have a plant-based ghost with them? Last time he checked, they would never work with a ghost, not with his parents' and the Guys in White's influence, unless...

They're not actual police officers, the thought caused him to twist his upper body where the branch was coming from. "What did I do… to break one of your stupid rules, Walker?"

His hands clenched into rubber-covered palms when sudden silence enveloped the area. He peered at the Walker's goons in disguise.

"What? Not goin' to attack me for exposin' you again? Guess you've grown too chicken," he then phased through the branch and shot a ball made of ectoplasm, which made contact with one of the bright-colored figures, causing the person to instantly fall to the ground. In that time span, he turned intangible and flew into the air.

Even though he wanted to, he didn't look back. He couldn't with the risk of it slowing him down. Walter would not go after living civilians unless a ghost who violated one of his rules was intertwined with them. Plus, Danny knew this was a battle he wouldn't win right now. It was better to meet up with Sam and Tucker.

The alleyway Danny found was dirty like any other alley; however, it did have a lower density of people. He had to avoid some… suspicious items. He didn't want to test if his ghost system was immune to human diseases or not. Despite the trash festering germs, Danny decided to travel deeper into the alleyway, where no one would look. Extra protection was never a bad thing, after all.

His feet dragged across the murky concrete—sluggish and slow. The rest of his body was in no better condition. With adrenaline leaving him behind, his injuries from the fight before flared, irritated from his recent actions. Great. Just great.

It wasn't uncommon for him to experience these kinds of injuries. But his cuts and bruises still here should've fully been taken care of by now. His best guess for they weren't was because of the new strangeness that nestled in him. The feeling was almost like he was lacking, hungry. It wasn't the normal claws scratching the insides of his stomach, either. Rather than that, a numb emptiness was in between where his ribs split. A thing that was threatening to take over his head with static, forcing him to still, if dwelled on.

He grit his teeth. This never happened Amity. Jazz's best guess was because the place was always chock-full of ectoplasm. It was in the air, the soil, the water. Everywhere you look, ectoplasm is likely to be there. A result that is probably because of the high concentration of ghost portals' openings, both artificial and natural, Jazz said during one of their many night chat sessions, taking a sip of her grape soda before resuming, which most likely only attracted more ghosts to come and; in result, contribute to the ectoplasm. Her theory did make sense. Amity Park wasn't notorious for being the most haunted town in the world for no reason. But wherever he now was, the ectoplasm was thin. Barren to the point it made Danny feel like a newborn calf.

He grunted and went down when another nausea wave assaulted him. Laying against a concrete wall didn't cure him was not comfortable by any means, but he was too bone tried to care about quality right now. His sight was darkening. However, as soon as he was about to drift off, a voice appeared.

This caused Danny's eyes to pop open. He scrambled away from the source, but he didn't get far before a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Whoa, there!" the man who held him in place said. "Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you."

Why the heck this old geezer sound so young? Never mind that, why is he even talking to me? He rubbed his eyes, before focusing on the man. "Well, you did."

"I just wanted to ask if you needed assistance."

Okay, you're seriously treading in some serious Vlad-territory right now, Danny glared at the man dead in the eyes, as he tore the offending hand off his shoulder. "I don't."

"Surely, the least I could do then is escort you home? It is getting late, and there is bound to be some people with ill intentions out here."

"I can—I can handle myself."

"It wouldn't be right to leave a child alone, especially in your current condition."

His jaw ticked. "I'll jus'… get medical supplies or somethin'," he took a breath. "Nothin' to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

"Very," Danny's eyes searched the man's face. Was it just him or did the man's face look off? "Can you let me go now?"

The air changed when Danny let his request pass his lips. Pressure applied itself onto him and became similar to a knife's tip dancing on his chest—dangerously sharp and ready to plunge. It was suffocating. A factor that shouldn't be possible in his ghost form.

Danny turned transparent and shot a small ecto-blast at the man, the threat, to get away. It was probably was not healthy to use his powers when he was so low on ectoplasm. But despite head-Jazz's complaints, it was the only way to escape.

The man trapped Danny in his grasp again. With his arms were held behind his back, Danny's movements became frantic. He kicked, wiggled, screamed at the man. Even attempting to use his powers which miserably failed. Everything was spinning too much.

The man leaned against Danny. His mouth came too close to Danny's ear, then he whispered, "Not this time, Yoichi."

Fuzz crawled in his limbs, and Danny couldn't help but let tears squeeze out. He heaved air. This shouldn't be happening. He didn't want to be taken, to be hurt. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be on an examination table to be dissected like the struggling frogs in his science class. He didn't want to keep fighting for normality, for acceptance from Mom and Dad, for respect from his home town.

This isn't fair.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'll take good care of you."

That was the last thing Danny heard, before he, with his kindle of hope, plunged into darkness.