CLANK

kshhhhh....

The heavy door opened with a metallic thump and an equalization of air.

A small figure in the corner shied away from the open door, knowing exactly what was going to happen next.

Two men entered the room, both in dazzling white suits with black gloves, shoes, ties, and sunglasses. No wonder they wore sunglasses inside, everything was blindingly white. The little boy in the corner lowered his head into his huddled form, not ready for whatever the Guys In White wanted to do with him.

The agent on the left scowled at the boy sitting on the floor. "Get up scum," He said with distaste. The boy did not move. A sinister smile played on the agents lips, suddenly happy with the turn of events.

"I said GET UP." He sent a smashing kick to the white haired boy's gut, the little experiment whimpered and slowly rose to his feet. His hands were in chains, a blinking green collar wrapped tight around his neck. A metal muzzle covered his nose and mouth, his cries being the only words ever coming from the halfa. His eyes had a hunted, defeated, look about them, a dull green sheen in his colorless life.

The other agent quickly and forcibly shoved the boy towards the door, the other agent walking behind him. The boy never looked up, for it was a sign of defiance, and if he even showed a hint of disobedience it was a one way ticket to painvill. Population? Him.

They walked briskly, the boy barely able to keep up with their longer and more muscular legs, while the boys were bone thin. His scrawniness showed through the thin fabric that was his clothes, his rib cage and hips and sunken in cheeks all testified of the boy's lack of nourishment. The long white corridors seemed endless and empty. Anyone would of been able to hear a pin drop. It was rather unsettling.

The trio came upon a heavy double door that the boy knew led to the experimentation room. Fear and bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it, those things only egged the agents on. The agent in front swiped his ID card and the door unlocked with an audible CLUNK. The experiment was shoved as they entered the room, a table rested in the middle, a few straps were left hanging and were stained a dark green. A tray on a wheeled cart was next to the table, tools, test tubes, chemicals, needles, all the things that brought pain and suffering into the experiments life. Although he'd been here countless times before the boy's breathing still quickened when he saw the table, his heart hammering with memories of indescribable pain.

To his surprize (and somewhat relief) the agents guided him past the table, going through another set of double doors into a wide open room with a tall ceiling. He had seen this room before, but only on special occasions. It was the training room. Every now and then they would put him in this room and he would fight robots they created. Sometimes he won, sometimes he did not. It took weeks for him to recover from those fights, they were brutal and if he ever won it was not without loss.

The agents left the white haired experiment standing there, feeling dwarfed in the large room with the equally large agents. They went through a secret door on the right, the boy made no move to follow them, he knew what to do in this room. He couldn't help but feel vulnerable and weak in the large space, he preferred small spaces-but not too small, there was different experiment they did to him that created that phobia.

Dull green eyes shifted under the matted silvery hair, he knew they were watching through some special glass mirror, silently judging his actions and deciding whether or not to punish him for bad performance or take him back to his cell to rot.

"Specimen G-01, begin." the intercom sounded in a monotone voice.

That was it, no instructions, just, begin. The boy looked around the room, knowing the routine. He took a step back when a trap door opened on the floor a few yards from him. The light on the experiments collar turned a shade of orange, something like relief washed over the boy, akin to air filling his lungs after nearly being forced to drown. His wrists were freed as the handcuffs fell to the floor, automatically unlocked by some control room somewhere.

A metallic white robot rose from the opening in the ground.

The boy only glanced at his opponent through his dirty white hair, he assessed that it was a different robot to the ones he fought before. It was sleek, shiny, and deadly, it had long arms and legs, the arms hung almost to the floor with a sharpened point at its end. The legs mimicked that of a lion's hindquarters, metal paws and a tail slithered from side to side. It was faceless, only metal plating in the shape of a head.

The experiment couldn't help but shudder, as often as he fought faceless robots they always frightened him went he went to the painless land of unconsciousness.

The robot then changed its stance. It's arms slithered up, ready to slice and dice the little boy. It crouched down with unnatural grace, the experiment felt the hole in his gut writhe, this would not be an easy fight. It's featureless face now seemed to smirk at him, even though it couldn't, his imagination did horrible things in this horrible place.

The robot froze like someone pressed the pause button.

The boy took a frightened step back, feeling very much threatened by the robot, when pain sprouted at his neck. Gasping and clutching his neck the boy doubled over. They would knock him out if he did not comply, and when he didn't comply the aftermath was always worse. He didn't remember much from those days, but he became instantly terrified when he did.

He fought off the pain and rose to his astounding full height of 3 feet.

With his face as blank as the robots, the boy stepped forward, the electricity around his neck died away as he did so. The robot inclined its head, as if accepting his challenge.

Like a starting shot of a horse race, the second the robots head inclined the fight began.

The robot surged forward with speed that only increased the boy's worry, within seconds the experiment was swiftly dodging the knife like arms of the robot.

The boy dashed away under a swiping arm, flying close to the ground, spun in mid-air and shot a blast of a fiery green substance. He fell to the ground and somersaulted to the side, dodging a spike that would have impaled his gut.

The blast he shot moments before landed on the robot's face, it smoked, then cleared.

It was untouched.

Fear and dread filled the boy, his already pale skin becoming even more so as his paranormal green and red blood drained from his face. Distracted, the small boy couldn't get out of the way of an oncoming sharp projectile.

A spike hit his left shoulder, sending him flying into a wall. Pain blistered from the place of impact, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Surely his collarbone was broken, if not shattered.

The boys dull green eyes found his newly injured shoulder, a large blade was embedded in it. Dizzy, the boy grabbed it with his good hand and sucked in a breath.

He yanked it out with a little more than a squeak, biting his lip even harder to keep from blacking out.

Nearly screaming, the boy was blinded by tears. Fear opened his eyes and saw the robot steadily walking towards him, as if it knew he would not be able to get away. Grimacing, he unsteadily got to his feet, leaning heavily to one side. He pushed the pain to the back of his head, reasoning that there was plenty of free time to feel pain later. He decided to wait for the robot to come, the robot in question stopped within 8 feet.

The scene stalled for a moment as neither opponent moved. The white haired boy stood with shaky breathing, his hand stemming the flow of blood coming from his other shoulder. Dark green blood seeped between his fingers, a red hue in some places in the syrupy liquid.

Quick as a snake, the robot threw another dart-like spike.

The boy bent over backwards and felt the air pass between him and the blade, only a hair's width away from his nose. He turned it into a side roll with his good arm bracing his injured arm. The robot was suddenly a lot closer, an arms length away, the boy jumped up quickly to avoid the swipe at his feet. While the machine was occupied the boy raised his bloodied fist, a glowing green fire accompanying it as he brought the fist down and thrusted it into the robots abdomen.

His fist collided with the metal, getting so hot that it was cold. The robot staggered but otherwise wasn't much affected, it swiped a bladed arm at the boy. The boy moved his head to the side, the blow easily avoided.

He wasn't paying attention to the robots other arm.

A burning pain erupted in his right leg, he looked down and found a blade going through his thigh, then the robot dragged its arm down, cutting through half of his thigh.

The white haired boy screamed in agony.

He fell to his knee, cradling his leg. He blindingly shot at the robot, two of them hitting home.

But the robot was still functional.

The boy couldn't see past the tears in his dull green eyes, he could only feel the burning, searing pain his torn leg was in. The robot stood high above him, like a lion over its prey, the other arm retracted back, ready to slice through the vulnerable back of the boy.

Dark with blood, a hand shot out, catching the blade and diverting the momentum to in front of him. The robot lurched forward, unsuspecting of any diverted blow. While the robot was thus positioned the boy grabbed the robots neck.

He screamed in anger and fear, his hand began to glow a frightening bright, toxic, green. The smell of burning metal made its way to his nose, and his hand tingled with the power coursing through it. He closed his tinged red eyes for a moment before he quickly released the no longer functioning robot.

The robot now dead, the boy cradled his leg again, the bladed arm of the robot still in his thigh.

The white haired boy swiftly took the blade out of his leg with a feeble cry. Blood was oozing from it like a waterfall, dark green and black pooling onto the floor. His vision went blurry as pain and fear overcame his other senses. His breathing grew short and ragged, his hands covered with his own blood as he tried to stem the flow.

The hidden doors opened on the far wall, but the boy did not notice. The collars orange light returned to green, the small white haired experiment fell to the floor in a growing puddle of his own blood.

His eyes closed and he was swept into the blissful darkness that was sleep.

-0o0o0o0o0o he's a phantom o0o0o0o0o0-

Danny sat on the floor, hands back in chains, his collar blinking every now and then.

He was surrounded by his own blood, he was attempting to bandage the wound but the gash was too large. The Guys in White never bothered to bandage him up after their experiments. So Danny was left to his own devices to help himself, his own devices being his hands and what was left of his clothes.

His clothes had always been in tatters, but now the once white fabric was all soaked up in dark green and red blood, not very useful but it was better than nothing. He had taken off his shirt to wrap his leg, it was pitiful but it helped. The little halfa couldn't get the cooper-y smell out of his nose and his body was covered head to toe in blood. They'd probably do a water experiment soon to 'wash' it all off. They didn't do many experiments with water but when they did it was usually a question about how long he could hold his breath before he blacked out.

Memories floated around in his muddled mind, mulling over thoughts and experiences in his cage, a room that used to be white. It was now a green/red color, like someone obsessed with Christmas colors decided to paint the room. It was messy, suspicious clumps of fleshy goop littered the floor. The color scheme was taken to a whole different level as the shades of green and red testified of the rooms use. Dried red blood was brown and crummy, dried green blood was toxic looking and glowed. Like an alien threw up and died. But that might as well be what Danny was, he didn't exactly think of himself as human anymore.

The room was cold, it was always cold, but it didn't bother Danny. A mist would escape his mouth occasionally, near around when he slept, he noticed. But it felt more like a mechanism than a result of cold air. Nonetheless Danny got the shivers every once and awhile, and even more rare he got nightmares. They did not happen often, but when they did the GIW made sure he would regret screaming for 'no reason'.

His prison door rattled open with the familiar CLUNK kshhhhh.

Danny's head snapped up in horror. He had just finished the last test, what more did they want? Two men in (you'll never guess) white stepped in, their cores flaring with joy in seeing their prisoner so helpless.

A while back in an experiment gone wrong something happened to Danny, the agents couldn't pin point what it was but Danny was forever affected afterwards. It itself scared Danny to death so he tried to keep it hidden. But he couldn't help that since that experiment he'd been able to see in astral projections.

Every living person has a core, or soul, and in that core colors would show what the person is feeling. Yellow is joy, purple is fear or worry, red is anger, blue is sadness, green is disgust. And these colors would create a core, a vortex of writhing emotions stuck in the center of a person. The amount of a certain color would be the persons mood at that time. Living people had cores that glowed with a soft light, ghosts did not have this light, leaving them dead as a doornail with only an obsession to show for it.

So when two faintly glowing forms entered with yellow cores streaked with red Danny knew he was in trouble. They were not here to help him. In fact, they were here to do the opposite. The GIW liked to beat him up nearly every day, they said it was for 'science' but Danny knew their real intentions. Danny's own perpetually purple core flared inside of him as he shrunk away from the looming figures.

"Hey ghost scum! Get up! We've got new ecto-brass knuckles and we're here to test them out." One of them he recognized as Agent A said. The words were mocking as Danny was clearly unable to rise to his feet, his leg was immobile, his ghost half was sluggish in its healing process because of the collar that hindered his abilities.

The bald agent rose a menacing gloved fist laced with glowing brass, displaying the object of Danny's punishment. Danny ducked his head as they got closer, he attempted to move his limbs closer but his thigh was rooted to the spot, he was stuck. Both agents had smiles upon their faces, their sickly yellow cores were suffocating. They raised their fists and Danny held his breath to brace for impact.

It did not prepare him for the pain to come.

Searing white pain erupted on his face, his jaw went numb, he opened his mouth but no sound came out. Even if he wanted to he couldn't cry out, his muzzle was still on. His body went limp on the floor, barely conscious. Tears sprung from his eyes, pooling at the edges before overflowing. The agents waited for the wounded halfa to regain his seat before striking again. They held a special place in their heart for seeing him get knocked down to the floor, it was apparently very amusing.

His gut was next. He gasped in pain, not able to keep himself from reacting. A sick smile spread across the agents face, why they loved seeing him so defeated was beyond Danny. But he was forever their pet, a lab toy, there was no hope for him. Danny had just gulped in a large breath of air when his left arm went numb, pain latched onto his already hurt shoulder. Danny grit his teeth to keep himself from yelling, an odd half sob escaping him.

They punched his left arm twice more in the same spot, at last a sickening crunch was heard. Danny could not keep his cry in, he let it out through the muzzle as his body was wracked with agonizing pain. Surely his arm was broken. Out of the blue a black-gloved fist came hurtling towards Danny's face, he took the blow, hoping for unconsciousness.

His head was sent reeling, the back of his head hit the ground with alarming force, the rest of his body falling limp under him. Stars danced across his eyes, everything was black but fate had one last blow to deliver.

"I wonder what happens when I put blood blossoms straight into its bloodstream?" Danny heard though his muddled brain.

The two agents raised their fists once more with disgusting joy. Danny was a bleeding mess on the floor, terror ran through him. Was this it? Was this the final blow that would rid him of this awful place? Danny was barely able to recognize what was going to happen, his head was so foggy from all the hits. The ecto-brass was doing funny stuff to his senses.

Pain like lighting struck Danny's barely bandages and bloodied leg, he could not keep the scream in. His body arched, he yelled in agony. A bloodcurdling lament of suffering that went deeper than his soul.

He was cuffed on the ears, silencing the wounded experiment and landing his broken body on the bloodstained floor. There was a satisfied laugh and the door clicked open and shut once more.