Phantom on the Shore - A Batman X Danny Phantom Crossover fanfic

Prelude to Chaos

"Gathering samples of it to run tests and discover if there were other entities like it amongst the world is for the greater good," Agent H reassured himself as he pressed the scalpel into the thing's side. He paid no mind to the flinch it made, and he certainly paid no mind to the narrowing of the thing's pupil.

Why would he?

Paying too close attention to the psychological reactions of the creature wouldn't be worth it. The creature, being an ectoplasmic entity, meant it was non-sentient. Non-sentient creatures could not feel. They could mimic emotions, yes, but the most that would be available would be psychological reactions.

Of course, someone would flinch when touched with something that was not their own flesh and skin.

But this creature didn't have real flesh. It did not have real skin either. He had seen its true form. Its "Ghost Form," as it would call it back in Amity Park. The star-white hair that mimic the way a star shined and the toxic green eyes were not ones the Agent would be able to forget.

Even if this thing had turned into a more pitiful and human-looking state, the Agent knew the truth. The truth of this monster.

The sterile room echoed with the muted sounds of the agent's actions. The clinical precision with which he carried out his tasks stood in stark contrast to the unsettling nature of the situation. The creature, bound and vulnerable, remained a silent canvas upon which Agent H conducted his grotesque work.

As the scalpel cut through the creature's abnormal yet too close to human form, the room echoed with a disquieting sense of detachment. Agent H, unmoved by the creature's reaction, continued his work. The creature's flinch, a mere mimicry of human response, held no significance in the eyes of the Agent.

It was just a biological reflex, a programmed response to external stimuli. Nothing more.

As the scalpel made its incision, a controlled determination reflected in Agent H's eyes. The samples he sought, the tests he conducted—each action had a purpose. The creature's reaction, whether genuine or a calculated response, remained inconsequential to the agent's singular focus on the greater good.

The air in the room grew heavy with the scent of antiseptic. Agent H, undeterred by any display of discomfort from the creature, continued his work methodically. His thoughts, shielded behind a stoic exterior, reaffirmed the necessity of these actions for the safety of the world.

As the tests progressed, the creature's features became more pronounced. The pale skin, the ragged breathing—all indicators of a being that existed at the edge of the known and the unknown. Agent H, engrossed in his mission, remained oblivious to the internal struggle within the creature or the potential consequences of unraveling the mysteries it held.

The room bore witness to the clash between Agent H's conviction and the surroundings of the creature. With each precise movement, he delved further into the enigma, his actions justified by a belief in the greater good. Yet, whether the creature truly posed a threat or if it was merely a victim of circumstance remained a question lingering in the shadows of the sterile chamber.

(It's answer, however, was obvious. Had this boy thing truly hurt someone willingly? )

(He It has nearly killed one to two humans, yes, but it was under the control of a different creature. If it wasn't intentional, was it truly evil?)

The creature appeared nothing more than a crude rendition of a taxidermy butterfly by the time the Agent was satisfied, having gathered enough samples to conduct experiments. Large flaps of the thing's skin had been moved aside to allow for easier access to its organs—organs that were shredded beyond repair. Three eighths of its upper intestine had been removed, a section of its lung was missing, and many more injuries induced a sense of giddiness in the Agent. However, there was one thing the Agent could not find, no matter how much he poked and prodded.

Its ghost core.

To experiment on the ghost core would be akin to having the power to eradicate all of Ghost kind. To discover what makes them destabilize for good would be the highlight of the Agent's day.

It seemed that day would not be today. Agent H left the creature to desensitize the surgical instruments and sanitize his very own hands, leaving the entity to its thoughts.

To its emotions.

To stay mentally residing within its core.

Pain—Hurt—HURTS! Its core screamed, and it had been screaming for what it could assume to be a year. A small sliver of hope clung to the creature.

For someone to hear its wails.

While Agent H meticulously attended to the hygienic protocols, the room remained shrouded in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting echoes of the creature's inner torment. The surgical instruments, now devoid of the grotesque evidence of the earlier examination, gleamed under the sterile lights, a stark contrast to the agony that persisted within the creature's spectral core.

The entity, left to its own devices, grappled with the abyss of its emotions, its thoughts a tumultuous sea of pain and longing. In the solitude of the sterile chamber, it clung to the hope that someone—perhaps a compassionate soul attuned to its silent pleas—would hear its wails and come to its rescue.

Inside the creature's core, the echoes of torment manifested in a relentless chorus of anguish. The relentless passage of time, measured in the ceaseless screams, hinted at a yearning for liberation, for release from the unending agony that had become its existence.

Panic—Fear—PAIN! The core's desperate cry reverberated through the room, a haunting symphony that seemed to seep into the very walls, pleading for salvation. And yet, amid the suffering, a resilient sliver of hope clung to the creature's consciousness—a belief that its knight in shining armor, its savior, its fright knight, would eventually arrive to free it from the shackles of its nightmarish reality.

Yet, it's been doing this for a year. An entire year dedicated to agony and despair. And no one. No response, no reassurance, no family, no friends. Just it and the GIW. It could call, day after day after each painstakingly day.

But no one ever came.

No one has came in the past year.