Day Thirty-One: Free Day

Genre: Angst/Horror

Words: 6095

WARNING: GORY CONTENT AND PROFANITY, AND A LOTTA DEPRESSING THOUGHTS. BE WARY.

There were many words to describe Danny's imprisonment. You could find many of them under the article for 'unpleasant' in the thesaurus, but that was probably an understatement. Danny was in hell.

He hadn't seen the light of day in two months, ever since that dreadful day he was captured right outside of FentonWorks because he'd let himself be exposed on social media. He was honestly pathetic for being so naive; he never should've gone home at all. And now he was paying for his stupid mistake, he was truly, a lab-rat. They had no mercy, and he was starting to wonder if he deserved his torture.

(Probably.)

When he had first awoken after his capture, he was floating in complete darkness. His entire body felt sore, and whenever he tried to move, something shocked him. Painfully. It took him time to recall what had happened to him, and when he remembered, he only struggled more, causing him to accidentally fry himself.

Later, he found out that place was called 'the tank'. It was a metal tank used for storing ghosts, lined with a layer of ectoranium. The ghost was suspended within the tank using some sort of ectoplasmic anti-gravity installation. If he even tried to touch any of the walls, he was burned by the ectoranium, so he had to stay completely still if he didn't want to hurt himself. After a while in captivity, Danny began to long for time in the tank again, because it was so much better than what awaited him outside.

Back on the first day, they had probably left him in the tank for about seven or eight hours. It had felt like an eternity, especially since he was still experiencing the shock that he'd actually been captured. They... and everyone... knew his secret. And now he was being taken to who knows where for painful, agonizing experiments. And to think, hours earlier, he'd been stressing out about one of Lancer's tests and a stolen backpack.

None of it felt real. It was just another nightmare, wasn't it? He'd had plenty of bad dreams and meltdowns about this sort of situation. But it was happening. And Danny had no control and his life was over.

No more schoolwork. No more Sam and Tucker. No more overbearing Jazz. No more disappointed parents. No more Lancer. No more bullies. No more ghost fights. No more homework. No more secret trips to the Ghost Zone.

No more freedom.

And very soon, there would be no more Danny Fenton. After all, they didn't use names in a place like this. Wherever he was.

He still wanted to have hope, even though he already knew it was hopeless. His chance of escape was very low, and unless they let him free, he wasn't getting out. How would he?

He also wondered how everyone else was taking it. Had the GIW even told anyone that they'd taken him? Maybe they hadn't, maybe people will just believe that he disappeared. If he really did have no chance of escape, then maybe that was a good thing.

But the GIW was an arrogant organization. Most likely, they'd already announced to all of the news channels that they'd detained him. He was their property now, just another freak to add to their collection of trophies. There was no doubt that he was all over the media at that point. His parents were probably crying over him, wondering how their precious baby boy could turn out to be... so vulgar. They probably saw him as inhuman. The only reason they would want to get him out of the GIW would be so they could experiment on him themselves.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz were probably blaming themselves. After all, they were the only people who had known Danny's secret, so in their minds', they were the only people who could've protected him. He appreciated his friends, but there was little they could've done to prevent this, since it was mainly his fault to begin with.

The general media was probably painting him out to be some deceitful teenager who was only pretending to be Amity's protector. That way the GIW was portrayed as a 'good' organization in the eyes of the public. Because they would never kidnap a half-human kid and force him to be the subject of experiments, especially if they knew he was a hero.

And yet, there he was, floating in a tank, waiting to be raped by the devil himself. Deep down, Danny believed there was no good way out of this, and his time in the tank only strengthened his negative perception.

Finally, the GIW opened the tank and threw him the floor. His body was numb from being crumpled up and still for so long, so it was difficult to move in the first place. They instantly put a shock collar on him, and commanded him to stand. When he didn't comply, they activated the shock collar, which felt just as bad as the ectoranium. Except the collar actually made his skin secrete ectoplasm, hardly destabilizing him. Finally, he managed to pull himself to his feet, and they pushed him forward with their guns.

His sensory input was slipping into overload when they pushed him down a pristine white hallway with deadlocked metal doors every twenty feet. There was the lingering scent of ectoplasm and Danny almost wanted to fall over and throw up because he knew where that smell had come from. But he managed to keep his wobbly legs moving so they wouldn't shock him. They turned a corner, and the agents brought him to a bare, cement room with only a metal framed bed and a thin mattress.

"This is where you'll be kept," a nameless agent said. He didn't speak to Danny, but rather at him. "You'll be collected in the morning."

They evacuated the room before Danny could even process their exit. The metal door slammed shut, and he heard about ten locks slide into place. Then, there was a quiet whirring sound and Danny observed a ghost shield appearing a few millimeters off of the walls. Hesitantly, Danny brought his hand to the shield, and he was shocked again, just as he'd expected. In the few hours that they had discovered his status as a half-ghost, they had modified a ghost shield to be strong enough to harm his human form. Looking back, it was probably why they had kept him detained in the tank for so long.

Just to see what his options were, Danny found out that he could turn into Phantom with the collar on, but he wasn't able to use any of his powers. Dejectedly, he reverted back into Fenton because it took less energy. With no other choice, Danny fell back against his uncomfortable bed, curled up into a ball, and wept for the loss of his freedom.

The next week was just as hopeless as the previous day. Maybe even more so, because Danny really got to see how difficult escape would be. At first, they just brought him to a tech lab to do a bunch of scans of his body. It was extremely uncomfortable and Danny hated how everybody was constantly looking at him, and how he had been reduced to an obedient specimen just after one day. But whenever he didn't do what they said, they would shock him, and turn up the pain scale until he complied. They were easily able to demand him to change forms, and by the second day, he did so without a thought.

He wanted nothing more than to fight back, but Danny knew he had to conserve his energy until he knew that he had a probable chance of success. That meant he had to avoid getting shocked, because it took a lot out of him every time they did. However, if it came to something truly invasive and tortuous, he'd fight back in an instant. Scans weren't preferable, but he could tolerate them when opposed to grisly experiments and drugs.

But Danny knew that eventually, they'd make him suffer through those things. He just had to find an opening to get out before it happened.

Somewhere around the fourth day, the director of the GIW came in to see Danny. Danny was strapped to a chair and they were currently running hand-held sensors over his body. Danny had learned if he even tried to speak, they would turn on the shock collar. He'd kept quiet after that.

He wasn't their dog, he was just pretending to do what they said, so he had a better opportunity to get free. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Director Blanchard reached out with a white glove and grabbed Danny's face, forcing Danny to look him directly in the eyes. He was currently in ghost form and wiggled uncomfortably until the man stopped touching his face.

"Change back," Blanchard spat at him. Danny didn't hesitate and transformed into Danny Fenton. He was plagued with more fatigue and exhaustion in his human form, and had to take much deeper breaths. They hadn't fed him or given him water since he arrived, and he hadn't been able to sleep much due to insomnia.

Blanchard frowned at Danny, and turned towards a researcher. "Why is he still wearing those... civilian clothes?" he gestured, distastefully. "Put him in something more... uniform, plain. Less personal." He thought a moment. "But make it white, after all, he's ours now."

A few people left, probably to find something that met the director's demands.

Blanchard examined Danny some more. "He looks so weak. You've just done scans, so far, haven't you? Why's he in such bad condition."

"I don't know," a researcher shrugged. "Mental stress?"

Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes and blurt out an accusatory comment. "Yeah, it's not like you've taken me from my life and turned me into your lab-rat, torturing me and stealing my freedom."

The researcher habitually reached for the trigger for the shock collar, but Blanchard made him stop. "And so it speaks," he said.

Realizing that he was going to be shocked, Danny bit back a reply, "I'm not an it."

"But you basically are. You're just a mass of impossible biology that's unfortunately sentient. All you are is precious scientific data ready to be discovered, an anomaly, but also our greatest hope at understanding more about the nature of ghosts," Blanchard grinned. "You're a resource; how you feel means nothing to us, because your mind is worthless. We only care about your body, so we're going to treat you how we please."

Danny narrowed his eyes in anger, "Fucking bastard."

The researcher hit the button, and his collar erupted with pain, causing him to involuntarily cringe. The electricity was calibrated to his ectosignature, and it caused his skin to lightly bubble ectoplasm until the collar ceased. Danny gasped in misery, as his lungs burned with an itchy fire. Okay, maybe that last comment hadn't been worth it.

"Anyway," Blanchard continued, "tell me more about it's condition. It's worsened since it got here two days ago?"

"Yes, it's definitely much weaker. Like I said, it's probably just mental-"

"Hmm," Blanchard said, "I don't think so." He turned to Danny. "Do you know why you're so weak right now?"

Danny glared at him, his voice was raspy. "Haven't eaten in days. No water either. Dehydrated."

The researcher scoffed, "You don't need food, you're a ghost! "

"Half-ghost," Danny countered. "I thought you guy's already knew that's why I'm so 'special'. I'm still alive, so I still need to eat."

"Yes, but shouldn't ectoplasm be enough to sustain you?"

"Well, maybe if I was a normal ghost, but no. I need to eat to live."

After that, he started getting food and water once a day. But it was only scraps from the GIW cafeteria, which was only slightly better than Casper High's menu. Edible, but absolutely disgusting. They also made him wear a white prisoner's jumpsuit with gray socks. They didn't give him any shoes. He eventually threw the socks across his room after they started smelling rancid because of his sweat. The rest of his clothes didn't smell any better.

The scans only lasted a few more days. At the end of his first week, the researchers were ready to move on to more... interactive experiments.

The first day on the table was his worst nightmare, until he had to do it again and again and then his 'worst' nightmare became his living nightmare. They wanted to see how much he could be injured before he destabilized so they could determine his limits before they started doing real experiments. They would cut him with scalpels all over and then watch his body heal and take notes on it while Danny was left bleeding all over the place, in pain. The days when they only tortured his human half were the worst; Phantom was able to take more injuries because in that form his healing factor was faster. Fenton... on the other hand, felt everything much more vividly and took even longer to heal. Not to mention that blood was thinner than ectoplasm so he had a higher blood loss on those days.

Everything hurt so much. He was beginning to see no way out.

(Should I just give up? Let them kill me...?)

No, he wouldn't go that route. He'd only been in this hell for two weeks. He wasn't going to give up so early. He would get out, eventually.

(That's a lie.)

Half-way through his second week, his depressed thoughts were eased when instead of being taken to the lab, he was brought to a new room with a metal chair and a window into another room. The chair was facing the window, and they pushed him into it. They strapped him thoroughly to the chair and Danny's heart started beating faster because this was different than usual and in here, different was never good.

One of the agents coughed, before glancing at him impartially. "You have ten minutes." The agent left the room, and Danny's eyes widened with horror.

"F – for what?" he called out, confused.

On the other side of a window, a door opened. His eyes were deceiving him, that couldn't...

His family.

There were there, only one room away from him, looking at him through the window. Danny didn't know how to react, honestly. Why were they here, was he going home? No, he couldn't be. The agent had told him that he only had ten minutes to speak to them. This was some sort of... visitation, not a release from his imprisonment.

Jazz was wearing a brown sweater he'd gotten her for her last birthday. Her eyes were welled up with tears, and she pressed her hand against the glass, morosely. His parents were in their usual jumpsuits, but both of them looked... dulled. Like all of the life had been drained out of them, and they acted like it too.

All he could do is gape back at them as they looked at him through the glass. He didn't know what to say. Last time he'd seen his parents was the morning he'd left before school, only for him to be exposed and captured. And here he was, face to face with them, and judging by their presence, they didn't completely hate him for what he was. He assumed Jazz had already told them everything that he'd kept from them, and they were here with her visiting him.

But Danny was still too scared to say something. This was cruel – putting his family just out of reach, reminding him that there were still miles between him and his freedom.

"Danny," Maddie said. Her eyes reflected her sadness. "What have they done to you?"

What could he say? That he'd been sliced up the past few days, so that the GIW could get a grasp on how far they could go before he melted into goo? That he'd been shocked every time he breathed wrong or failed to follow orders? That he'd been treated like the inhuman creature that he was?

"How're you... here?" he asked, instead.

"Vlad," Jazz explained softly, "he found some legal clause that let us come see you. But after this, we can't come see you for a while. At least," she choked, "six months."

The thought of spending another week in here broke Danny, he couldn't imagine another six months of this.

"We're going to get you out of this, son," Jack said. "We're doing everything we can. We... the media's on our side. But legally... you're in their custody."

Danny couldn't help but find himself surprised. His Dad seemed genuine, and that confirmed his guess that his parents didn't actually despise him. Which only made him feel more guilty that he was putting them through such emotional turmoil. They shouldn't have to be bailing their stupid ghost son out of government ghost prison.

"I'm sorry," Danny said, looking Jazz in the eyes instead of his parents. She was easier to face. "I'm sorry everything ended up like this. If I... wasn't like this, things would be okay. But instead, I... I messed up."

"It's not your fault!" Jazz exploded. A tear rolled down her cheek, "Don't you dare blame this on yourself, Danny. Nobody deserves this treatment, so don't you dare try to apologize for something you can't help."

"Your sister's right," Maddie said. "We... this is so hard, Danny. But we don't hate you – we just feel ashamed for putting you in a position where you felt like you couldn't tell us. We made you feel unsafe, and maybe if we hadn't, we could've prepared for this together, or at least prevented it. What you are doesn't bother me Danny, it's the monsters that are doing this to you that are making me feel this way."

The confirmation that she didn't hate what he was rekindled some of his lost hope. "I... thank you. I needed to hear that, you don't know... in here it's so... Everything they do hurts. I just want out, so badly."

"After this is all over, we're suing," Maddie demanded. "They think they can objectify you, but they're wrong. Even when we leave Danny, you have to know that we support you."

Jazz wiped at her tears, "Stay strong. We love you so much."

"Sam and Tucker and Vladdie are working on getting you out. Sam and Tucker are rallying the kids are your school, and Vladdie is using as much as his mayoral power as possible to get you out. He's a true friend."

Danny didn't know what to say to that. Vlad wasn't his friend, or his Dad's... so that meant that Vlad was doing it out of the goodness of his heart? Or maybe he was making sure that the GIW couldn't legally detain half-ghosts, for his own protection in the future. Vlad was selfish, but there was also the chance that he really was doing this for Danny.

"Don't give up, Danny. This isn't the end of our family, we promise."

"We're going to make them pay for what they're doing to you. In time. Heartless sons of bitches."

"You don't deserve this. Being a ghost doesn't mean that your rights are less than ours, so whatever they tell you, don't believe them."

"We love you."

The ten minutes were over. On of the fucking agents came in and took his family away from him. Another one came in on his side of the room and loosened his straps. He didn't move from his chair, and stared brokenly at the window his family had been at. He hadn't stood up quickly enough, so he was shocked by his collar.

He returned to his hours of lying on his back, suffering through laceration after laceration of flesh. Eventually, they got bored of doing that too, after a few days. They changed his routine again, and they started prodding him with needles so they could examine his reactions to different substances and chemicals. A lot of them made him feel nauseous, while others altered his body temperature, and some temporarily changed the color of his skin. They liked taking samples of his blood, and occasionally, they would cut off squares of skin so they could examine his skin and muscle tissues.

It was a different kind of pain than the slices, but it was still pain, nonetheless.

His family's encouragement was a good supplement of hope, but in the end it made everything more bittersweet. It felt like he was put in an emotion microwave and just left there. The fact that they had given him hope made it only more painful when he was deprived of it. Like giving a reformed addict cocaine, and then taking it away; the withdrawal effects were deadly.

In Danny's third week of unimaginable agony, the GIW changed it up again and decided to give him a chemical bath. Nobody really bothered explaining the purpose of it to him, but from what he could guess, they were trying to do something with his powers. They led him into the lab, demanded he change into Phantom, and made him take off all of his clothes, leaving him naked and exposed for everyone to see, instantly increasing his never ending anxiety. They even took off his shock collar, which was a momentary relief, before they poked guns into his bare skin and forced him inside a weird looking pod.

Inside the pod, he wasn't able to see anything on the outside. He knew they could see him though, because he noticed there was a minuscule red light that indicated a camera inside the cramped area. There was the sound of something sliding, and liquid running – like a faucet, and then a foul smelling, red liquid started rising around his bare feet. It caressed his skin, and he could feel the clumpy texture of the substance as it crawled up his body, filling up the pod. Soon, it was up to his neck and he realized that they weren't going to stop filling it up until the entire pod was full. He wasn't going to be able to breathe. They were going to drown him in the chemical.

A different sense of fear filled him. Usually he was just afraid for the pain, but the GIW knew when to stop. This 'bath' could literally kill him if he drowned.

He could die.

"S – stop!" he cried, keeping his head as close to the ceiling as possible. The pod was about the same height as him so it wasn't very easy.

The chemical was still rising, and he was given no choice. He would have to hold his breath. Moments before the crimson liquid reached his mouth, he inhaled a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes too, this stuff would probably burn if it got in his eyes. It was already burning in other unmentionable places.

Soon enough, his lungs weakened with the burden of holding in oxygen. His lips begged to let go of the tension so he could exhale, but he knew if he did that he'd have to swallow the chemical. But Danny couldn't last forever in the battle against the limitation of his lungs; no one could. Finally, Danny's body surrendered and he let out the last of the air he was holding in. He breathed in the chemical, and it immediately gagged him.

It tasted toxic. There were a million words Danny could use to describe the awful feeling of the substance crawling in his throat and mouth, but none of them were appropriate. Because there was no word for how this felt.

As someone who could turn intangible, Danny hadn't had to experience the fear of drowning in a long time. But now, he was experiencing it and that forgotten fear evolved into a panic attack. The more he panicked, the less he had control over his breathing, which caused him to choke faster. The chemical was making him aware of places in his throat that he hadn't known were there. It wasn't even fire; it was lava. Pure, boiling lava that was melting him from the inside out.

With his eyes scrunched closed, he didn't experience the fade to black, but he eventually passed out from the lack of oxygen. He woke up later that day in his room, on his bed, in human form and wearing his regular uniform.

He just started crying. He couldn't help it. He was weak, so he cried. It was something he felt like doing, and even though it was shameful, he didn't feel undignified. They had drowned him in some ghostly chemical and he'd passed out. So, could anyone blame him for crying?

They acted like it never happened. They had collected the data they needed from the experiment in the pod, so they moved on. They went back to the needles and observations, and occasionally revisited the injury tests. Or maybe they just wanted to hurt him for fun. After all, he was practically nothing to them, so they wouldn't be below doing that.

Near the end of the fourth week, he lost it. He couldn't stand being a lab-rat anymore, he couldn't stand the constant, never ending hell that he was in any longer. He was irrational. Hopeless.

He fought back against some of the agents. He transformed and grabbed one of their guns. He got around a corner, and tried to pry his collar off with a spare set of keys he'd stolen from one of the agents. It wasn't working. They keys weren't enough to break the clasp on the collar. Damn.

And, then, he was on the floor. The shock of the collar was ten times what he was accustomed to. It was almost close to destabilizing him, it was that hard of a shock. His fingers dripped away and so did parts of his legs and he was turning to goop and he was also on fire and – and. Too much screaming inside his head, but not in his throat.

They dragged him back into his room, and that night, the experiments were more painful than usual.

He was forced to endure the next two weeks without a single protest. They had gotten used to his obedient behavior until his pathetic escape attempt. Suddenly, they were back on edge again, and reminded how dangerous Danny could possibly be.

Danny wondered if his drastic flip-out is what initiated them to go forth with their most heinous experimental procedure yet. They wanted to vivisect him.

It wasn't a sudden thing. They physically and mentally prepared him for the vivisection a few days before it actually happened. They told him what they planned on doing, and that they'd play around in his guts, take a few samples, stitch him up and wait for him to heal. Of course, he was terrified out of his mind. They were going to play surgery with him, but it wasn't surgery... it was so much sicker than that. It was sick. He was sick thinking about it.

At least, since he'd been well behaved since his escape attempt, they were being merciful enough to knock him out during the actual vivisection. That meant that going under would be the scariest part, and hopefully he wouldn't wake up dead or in multiple pieces. He'd just have to experience all the pain afterwards, but at least he wouldn't be conscious or anything. That was the stuff of horror stories.

The day came, and they brought him in. They made him change into Phantom and strip again, but at least this time he got to keep his underwear. That was at least less humiliating and revealing. They put him on the metal table, and made him spread his arms out, reminding him of those fetal pigs they had to dissect in biology. (Don't think about it too much, please don't think don't don't.)

They held up a syringe with a dull drug that was going to keep him under long enough for them to do what they wanted to do to him, and it would also keep him in ghost form after he passed out. He couldn't stop them, even if he tried, so he just let it happen. At least after the vivisection he would get a break from the usual experiments so he could recuperate fully. That was at least a good thing, right?

Nothing about any of this was good, or ethical, but he was theirs. He had to let them do this to him, no matter how scared he was. No matter how much he hated it. That was his role as the lab-rat.

The needle went in his vein, and everything started getting sleepy. He knew that when he would wake up, everything would hurt, so he braced himself for that. His eyelids drooped and he heard the clatter of a scalpel, but he couldn't bring himself to care...

The pain when he woke up was excruciating. He was utterly, sore inside his chest and stomach and breathing was a labor. He was surprised to observe that instead of his normal room, he was in some sort of medical area. There was an IV tube in his arm, and he was happy to let himself be filled with morphine. He needed it, badly. When he looked down, his entire chest was bandaged, and he could see traces of red and green blood soaking through the bandages. He was also still Phantom, which meant that whatever he transformed, everything would hurt more. That was definitely something to look forward to, which was why he was going to stay a ghost as long as they allowed him to.

He hadn't expected such... courteous care post-vivisection, but he supposed the GIW wanted him to feel better so they could get back to ripping him apart while he was in peak condition.

He spent a week recuperating. He managed to turn back to human, which did hurt more than being a ghost, but it was a necessary step in his healing process. Unavoidable hurdle. After he didn't need the drugs anymore, most of the time he was in his own room, so he just laid in his bed, staring at the plain ceiling. At that point, he started to wonder what Sam and Tucker were doing with him gone. His Dad had said they were rallying the teenagers, but what else were they doing in their spare time? Were they going to movies on the weekends? Were they keeping up with their homework? He didn't want them to stop doing things just because he got captured. That wasn't right. They deserved to have their own lives.

He thought about lots of things, and lots of people too. He even missed some of the ghosts. He knew that they didn't care less about him, though. He was just another GIW casualty, a failure to them.

His recuperation period was scheduled to end soon, and it depressed him. He couldn't go back to that daily hell of being stabbed and scrapped and cut and melted. But it was inevitable, because he was theirs.

One day before he was scheduled to return to the lab regularly, they collected him from his room. Instantly, he began to panic. Apparently they were starting early. He wasn't ready for this, he had told himself for five days that he wouldn't have to go back to the lab until tomorrow, but they suddenly changed it on him. They never deviated from schedule unless there was a really bad reason. Anxiety held him by the shoulders and made him nearly trip down the hallway.

He walked to the usual lab, and was taken aback when the guard shook his head. He wasn't going to the usual place today. They were taking him somewhere different. That was also bad.

They led him down a part of the hallway that he'd never been in before. And then... they brought him to an elevator? He fidgeted nervously, unable to foresee what new torture they were going to introduce him to today. The elevator brought them from the lowest sub-levels of the facility to the ground floor. What-?

Danny gulped. He knew better than to ask any questions at this point. They'd electrocute him in an instant.

The elevator doors slid open and he was carelessly pushed forward again. It was... bright, wherever he was. No. Was that a window? That was sunlight? He hadn't seen sunlight in two months. Why had they brought him up here?

"-a shame," he heard someone mutter. "Unfortunate loss of opportunity."

This had to be another one of his optimistic dreams. He was back asleep, ten floors below. This wasn't real.

The agent led him forward, and he followed with rapidly growing curiosity. (Don't get your hopes up, this could just be another experiment. You could just be meeting with Blanchard or something.) The further he wandered through the first floor, he realized that he was actually in the lobby. There were waiting areas, and there were various agents lingering around, holding cups of coffee and chatting normally.

He couldn't stand the heavy, mysterious tension anymore. "Why am I up here?" he asked the agent.

For the first time he could remember, the agent actually replied instead of just shocking him. The tall man gave a disgusted look and grumbled, "It's your free day. We don't own you anymore."

That hit him like a bus out of nowhere. It was... over? Actually, for real, over? He was going home? After so long, after so much pain and irreversible mental and physical scarring? It had to be some kind of cruel joke. But... here he was. He could see the sunlight in the windows, meaning he had left his underground prison behind.

Free. Well, almost.

It was unbelievable. Relieving. Daunting, even. For now, he could live without being studied by the government, but so much more awaited his new life.

"Danny?" he turned to the side. There was his family again, and rather than appearing sad like they had in the window, they were welcoming. They were relieved, just like him. Jazz was crying again, but this time it was tears of joy. He wanted to run over to them, but until he got his collar removed, he had to yield to the agent next to him.

The agent took his time in angrily walking over to the Fentons. He was clearly pissed off that they were losing Danny as a specimen. Finally, there were standing next to his parents and sister and before the agent could protest, all members of his family crushed him in a group hug. Thankfully, he'd mainly recovered from the vivisection injuries, but he was still pretty sore from that experience. He could've stayed in their grip for all eternity at that point, he was so happy.

"I missed you so, so much," Jazz said, running her hand through his hair. She didn't even care that it was greasy from his lack of showering.

The agent loudly coughed, and Danny remembered that he still needed to take off the collar. He was more than willing to let that happen. The agent took out some kind of magnetic key, and it effortlessly unlocked the collar. It fell off of Danny's neck, and clattered to the white tiled floor. At that moment, he was tempted, and Danny wondered if it would be illegal to destroy his fallen collar. Probably, since everyone in the vicinity would probably shoot him instantly.

Now, he was actually free.

By the time they walked out of that God-forsaken fucking facility, they were all bawling their eyes out. Jack was the worst, even though he claimed to never cry. Everyone was glad to have Danny back, and Danny was grateful that his nightmare was over. His physical anguish was in the past.

Nothing felt real. What was his new reality? What was his new life? It wasn't the same as the last one.

Danny ended up laying his head on Jazz's lap in the backseat of the car. He was still wearing his GIW uniform, and couldn't wait to get back home to take it off immediately and take a hot shower.

He was finally free after so what felt like so long. It was his first free day.

Aaaannd that's a wrap! I can't believe I actually managed to complete all 31 themes, albeit 2 days late. But with finals considered and all that school shit, I feel like this is an achievement. I had so much fun writing all of these and I feel like this has really helped me practice my writing. Anyway, thank you for reading and thank you everyone for the positive reviews! You guys are great!