Chapter One (Prologue): Black isn't a Color, but Blue is.

I wanted to try my hand at a Haunted Past story, so enjoy this small prologue. It's about two pages where as my normal chapters are normally five-seven pages, give or take depending on content.
I'm going to be exploring Dan's sadistic and narcissistic personality; at times it may get a bit dark due to this- in physical violence and sexual situations, but I'll also be going into Dan's weaker moments when he's a bit more like Danny.I avoid writing character death like the plague, so that will most likely not find its way in here. I try not to be too graphic, but *shrugs* whatcha gonna do?

Also, this shouldn't be necessary but:

Pairing(s): Haunted Past. Yep, that's it. Possible/implied Meddling Minutes.

There's my disclaimer; now go on if you clicked on this link for that yummy stuff. Review and tell me what you think.

Danny's head shot up off the solid concrete, at a speed which proved to send spikes of sharp pain throughout his forehead. He cautiously rolled himself over, realizing he wasn't lying on concrete at all; it was actually a large- and comfortable- bed draped in black, devoid of any color.

Why is it so uncomfortable to me then? Danny thought warily and struggled to remember where he was.

He gasped in recollection and a touch of pain as memories came flooding back. His ghost sense. Fire. Screams. Blood. Himself- no wait, it wasn't him. Sam yelling, "Danny, it's your jerk-self!"

Dark Phantom. Danny's thoughts concluded. I must've blacked out- after fighting him? He looked around again, looking for any bits of information to confirm his suspicions.

Not receiving anything helpful except for the fact, Dark didn't like color. This room made Danny feel as if he was color blind. Black and white, there are no colors. A line from a poem rang out in his mind, although he had no idea who it was by or why he had suddenly remembered it as if it was important.

He swung his legs over the bed, realizing he wasn't in his ghost form. Not wanting to feel unprotected, he switched forms, welcoming the tingly feeling as Fenton became Phantom. Catching his reflection in a lone mirror on the wall, he realized his clothes were shredded. Not enough to be a discomfort, but enough where he was going to later have to find out if Phantom can wardrobe change.

He stalked over to the grand black doors, and not spying a doorknob, he gave them a push. Nothing. Trying to phase through them didn't work either. Is it possible I'm in the ghost zone? Danny considered the option, attempting to phase through them as a human. Feeling a rush of victory, he started to go through the dark wood.

He could only cry out as he felt something push back, roughly forcing him back into the room.

"I wouldn't bother if I were you. Human-proofed." Letting a ring of white light turn him back into Phantom, Danny spun around to face the man who brought him here. A man he could've sworn was not in this room two minutes ago. "I bet Walker would just die to get his hand on this technology."

"You." Danny said, lacking any more expressive words in this situation which seemed to be the opposite one might suspect of the boy.

"Me." The Dark Phantom agreed. "Oh, I almost forgot how articulate I was at this age." The Phantom stalked forward, making his younger self back up an equal amount of steps.

It was strange. He defeated this monster once, but something in how the man was acting unnerved him: the kidnapping, this bedroom, the almost laid back form of communication.

Are you frightened, Danny? Dark's eyes seemed to ask.

No!

Yes.

"What's your game Dark?" Danny asked, cornering himself against a wall and bunching a fist. The cornered dog is always the one to lash out and bite, but the silent one is the deadly one. Fangs drawn and at the ready.

He smirked. It wasn't a Plasmius smirk, and it wasn't Danny's grin; it was something much more primitive. "Game? I don't have a game. I'm just going to break you. Slowly and painfully." He announced flippantly as he moved forward until his larger body towered over the younger boy. Leaning forward to snap into the halfa's ear, "And I'm going to make you like it, Danny boy."

"What?" Danny snapped, sliding out from under where Dark remained towered over him. "I'm not a masochist, you bastard."

Grabbing the younger boy's wrists, he pinned them up against the wall. Danny thrashed, trying to get the man to release him although a sharp knee to the gut dealt with that nicely. Dark leaned his head down and stole Danny's lips with his own. The boy's wild thrashes began again.

"Wha-!" he began, throwing his legs and trying to pull his arms down, anything to get the psychotic man off of him. It didn't occur to the boy to use his ghost rays.

Biting down on Danny's lower lip caused the boy to gasp out in pain, and Dark cleverly seized the opportunity to force his forked tongue into the younger halfa's mouth.

Danny's eyes shot open as wide as they could go. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening. It's just the wrong kind of sick, so he panickedly did the one thing that came to mind in this situation. He bit down. Hard.

Naturally, the Phantom withdrew swiftly, backhanding the boy as he did so.

Daniel spat bloody saliva from his mouth, barely stopping himself from reflexively gagging. The salty copper taste was unpleasant and only served to remind him of what Dark just did… what Dark just did to him.

"You're really going to regret that, Danny boy." Dark growled, grabbing the boy by his throat and whipping him across the room. The halfa crashed into the back wall, head first naturally.

As quickly as the shock from being thrown and the collision was gone, Danny was on his feet, his body preparing to fight or if necessary, run.

"You see, you may not be a masochist, but you'll come to find that like pain- your pain-, and I really like to be the one to cause it."

Danny raised an eyebrow, the pain in his head intensifying. "Isn't that called 'sadism'?"

"Ah, but you see, I am a sadist." Dark stated bluntly while picking at the edge of his finger nail.

Dark turned on his heel to exit the room. His mouth, too, tasted like ectoplasm; even he didn't like that taste, else he would really have stayed longer and made Danny actually regret hurting him.

Ignoring the discomfort building in the back of his skull, Danny opened his mouth to speak, but the other ghost teleported himself away before the words could even make their way out. A quip about how the room could use more color probably wouldn't have been a very good insult in this situation anyway.

Danny rubbed the back of his head. He'd never been thrown that hard, and his ghost self had never hurt this much after taking a blow- not even by Vlad who often loved to throw him by his neck during their fights.

The boy made his way to the white doors that hopefully lead to a bathroom. Sure enough, his hopes were note faulty. Danny proceeded to curl into a little defensive ball and pass out- whether from pain, exhaustion, anxiety or just stress, it wasn't certain.