"That boy was always an enigma to me."

I scribbled something down on my notepad page, and was rewarded with an annoyed eye twitch on his part. "Is this whole interview going to consist of you asking random, non-sequiter questions, then hunching over and scrawling out my responses word for word?" I smirked devilishly, and shook my head 'no'. Straightening my posture in one of his lounge chairs, I adjusted my glasses to a more professional position on my nose, and smiled in an amiable way at him and changed direction.

"I'm sorry Mr. Masters. How would you suggest I go about interviewing you properly?" He eyed me curiously, as if suspicious about my sudden obedience.

"Well, for one, you could try calling me Vlad, I suppose. Mr. Masters is simply too formal for your purposes."

I was shot a dark look, but my grin was unwavering in response and I nodded exuberantly, jotting down a few words to the paper without so much as looking to the notepad. My brown-green eyes locked onto his, and once again I had affected his perception of me somehow with my undying grin, his blue eyes narrowing only briefly to express it. With a tilt of my head, I asked him in a high, bubbly tone, "Alright then. Vlad. That should do well enough. Would you care to elaborate on your earlier comment concerning Danny Pha— I mean, Fenton?"

His shock was practically delicious to watch, his jaw dropping open the smallest fraction of an inch.

My intentional slip-up no doubt confused him, and I reiterated quickly, "Do you have anything further to say concerning the boy, in particular reference to your statement that he is an enigma? I must say I do agree, but I fear my reasoning may be slightly different, as our views no doubt vary greatly." I let myself smile in my natural crooked way, and he fell gracefully into the plush bulk of the great armchair across from me. I could feel those dark-rimmed eyes glued to me, thought I did not give any sign it bothered me. After all, I had gotten to see his ponytail in person and talk to the man; should he choose to kill me now or some such, I would have died a happy fan girl and could quite possibly come back as a ghost to haunt him anyway.

I could not say so much, of course, for I could not compromise my identity as a fan girl, or lose all chances of a proper interview, and simply stared back levelly, my crooked smile hopefully unnerving the normally so smooth and debonair man.

It achieved the desired effect, and he leaned forward, eyebrows raised apprehensively and he asked in a low, carefully constructed, as to appear aloof, tone, "What do you know of this Phantom boy?"

My grin widened, and I said coolly, "Now Vlad, I understand I asked for your advice in how to properly interview you, but I am still the reporter, so I'll ask the questions." He appeared to have been thrown off the metaphoric equivalent of a building, the answer very different from what he had sat stiffly expecting, and disbelief at my indifferent subject change was chiefly expressed in his expression.

I shrugged sweetly, and held my pencil to the paper, and I pretended to ignore it as his eyes suddenly glowed bright red in indignant anger. I was a guest here, I was not supposed to be too mean, or risk getting thrown out, but this much I couldn't resist, matching his glare with a simple look that expressed false omniscience.

"Does the poor Plasmius not like what he's hearing?" My teasing question surprised him enough for the glare to subside for a moment; before of course, it came back full force. Disapproval, surprise, and simple mistrust powered him, whereas simple interest kept me sitting still. He began to approach me, rising like a smooth creature of deathly stealth, and walked forward on long, mechanical steps.

Speaking in a gravelly, low tone, he attempted to convince me I was wrong, despite his eye color's change, "I have no idea what you're talking about. My name is Vladimir Masters; I have never heard the term 'Plasmius' before in my life."

My indifferent nod 'no' and light, "Oh, of course not," while I began to rummage through my little gray bag, digging past a cranberry juice bottle and many colored pencils, showed none of the tension he was trying to make me feel. This tension was supposed to make me reveal who I was and what I must know, or at least what I had hinted at knowing. He stood right in front of me, tall and imposing, when I finally found what I was looking for. One long hand reached out, fingers outstretched, I assume to latch onto my shoulder and make me listen to him, or overshadow me enough to make me admit my knowledge and identity. "Here we are" I exclaimed vacantly, and before he could touch me, I had slid out the Plasmius Maximus and shocked the handsome man, both mentally and physically, with it.

A writhing heap on the floor bumped against my feet a minute later, indicating he had stopped writhing from feeling the pain of the electric charge. I commented emptily, "I recalibrated it a little to have a greater lasting effect. Nice, eh?" Vlad rolled onto his back and looked up at me with a mix of respect, confusion, and what I suspected may be fear. I offered a reassuring smile, and tossed my sketch and note book to the chair, bag on top of those with the little weapon safely back within it, and helped him up. Instead of leading him back to the one-person chair he previously occupied, I plopped us both down, side by side on a deep crimson colored couch closer by.

"How long?" The question was not pleading, I was glad to note, simply curious, which meant he would be receptive to my questions.

"Five hours." The response calmed him, and I supposed the excess charge must have made him feel there was no ghost left in him at all to have to ask that. "Do not fret, Vlad, I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Once again, simple curiosity was shown, and with complete honesty I said back, not quite intending to worry him as much as I did, "I think so." The paled look, on top of his ruffled up hairdo made me laugh, and I barely restrained the urge to let it escalate into my typical cackle. "Relax nonetheless halfa-man. I am simply here to ask you questions, if not necessarily for a newspaper, as I told you before." Whether it was my honest expression or simple fatigue caused by his own invention being turned on him by a stranger, I got my wish and he collapsed backwards into his cushion, and asked me wearily, "What was your question again?"

I simply smiled at him and fetched my notebook and a pencil from the bag in the blink of an eye. He eyed me with some wonder at my calm demeanor, and said softly, "I don't believe you are a real reporter." I threw the crooked smile his way again and retorted pleasantly, "Surprisingly enough, I don't believe I am either." I cackled then, and I don't remember whether or not he was scared, but I can only imagine he must have been; my cackle, though not intentionally so, sounded frighteningly sinister, even in my best of moods. A flick of the wrist and the notebook was opened to a fresh page, pencil poised tensely over the yellow pad of legal paper.

A goofy smile I do remember wearing while I asked for the fourth time, "What do you think of Daniel Fenton?" He sighed from my side, and I tilted my head at his ruffled hair and silently pulled out a compact and brush and handed them over. He seemed unnerved by my yet again random actions, and wordlessly accepted both, looking into the tiny mirror briefly at the state of his hair before letting it down and brushing through as quickly as possible.

While I gawked at Vlad with his hair down -- I really must be a fangirl for such a ridiculous reaction -- he spoke in a level tone, "Daniel has always simultaneously intrigued and frustrated me. His mother's intelligence is passed on to him, but he also inherited the clueless-ness of his father; a man I don't believe ever deserved the prize Madeline truly is. She's so-" He stopped when I let loose an exasperated sigh. "What?"

One eyebrow cocked dangerously high, I went where no fangirl should go; to Smackdown City with their favorite character. "You're complaining about Jack being clueless? In college he at least had the courage and intuitiveness to see an opportunity with Maddie… And then actually take advantage of that opportunity; something you never did." I scowled, "You should get over that woman. In case you hadn't realized, Jack's not the reason she doesn't want to be with you; you're the reason she doesn't want to be with you. Ever." I glared at him, and he came close to glowering back, before sighing and asking me so quietly I had to halt even my breathing to hear the question.

"How do you know so much? Even Maddie," he eyed me and my pouting glower and rephrased, "Even some of the smartest people I've ever known are not clever enough to figure so much out about me; not even those I've known nearly my whole life."

I simply shrugged and said, "I have sources. And anyway, I'm interviewing you about Danny, not his mother." Vlad's only response was a sigh, as if resigning himself to such was to be expected. I almost apologized at seeing such a disappointed face curtained beneath the light layer of white hair, but restrained myself to just a dazed smile.

He tied his hair back up in an instant, and he began talking again, jolting me enough by the subject change to remind me I was supposed to write some of this down. "I respect Daniel to a degree. He has come so far in such a brief time. The," he fumbled to avoid giving away the secret it already seemed I knew, "trauma of his youth came so much sooner than it ever should for a boy, and he has been put through much more than I was after traumatic experiences in my own youth.

"I and many others much like me have hurt him, attacked him in some way, and he has thrived despite it all." He rolled his head on his shoulder to lock eyes with me, "Respect is the least I can offer for surviving such a sad existence to be forced onto his shoulders at such a tender age." I nodded sagely despite his vagueness -- obviously he couldn't give away Danny's secret, even if it already seemed I knew it -- my bun flopping about on the top of my head, and wrote down a short scribble on the page, though I guarded it from his eyes.

"Alright then…" I floundered for a second question. I hadn't exactly expected to make it this far and still be alive, so my list of questions didn't reach beyond the basic. Suddenly, I decided to reach for the subject that would always be side-to-side with any question concerning the young Fenton. A question concerning the young Phantom.

"What is your opinion of the young ghost boy, Danny Phantom?" My eyes glinted wickedly behind my glasses, and he didn't respond for a moment.

"First you must tell me what you already know of the creature."

I bit my lip and pouted, even if it wasn't attractive or if it did nothing to help; habit was habit, and I was thinking hard. It took a full minute of thought, but I finally sighed and explained quickly, "I know Danny Fenton is half human, half ghost, just like you, though under slightly different circumstances. He is the hero Danny Phantom. He is your enemy sometimes. Other times he is your ally, your child, your confidante, whether or not either of you wishes it so. He is an enigma, as you so properly put it."

I spread my lips out in the familiar gesture called a smile, that on me never looked like something remotely pleasant, but cheerful in my own way nonetheless.

He nodded imperceptibly, then froze up a second later, and asked quickly, "Wait, my child?" I raised both eyebrows and stated, "Pseudo-brother to your 'daughter' Dani." He deflated with an 'oh', shoulders sagging, but immediately puffed back out when I continued, "When you are kind to him, within range of his mother, but not stupidly throwing yourself all over her, he would be glad to be your son, you know. If you do not push him to do anything, least of all denounce Jack, he does come to you, and accepts your help; he can trust you then, or at least believes he can." Vlad nodded almost out of habit, and seemed to think it over.

I interrupted quickly with, "I'm supposed to be interviewing you." But he ignored me and asked distractedly, "Only ever my son?"

My inner demon of slash love rose up and reared it's crazy head, making me smirk and ask teasingly, "What more could you want the young hero to be for you?" Vlad would have blushed were he any normal man, but being the emotionally impervious man I adored, Vlad, simply paused, taken aback, and looked like he was seriously considering the answer to my question.

Softly, he said, "I don't really know what I want from Danny, I suppose."

The little demon cheered and I smiled evilly, "That will do."

He looked at me in an alarmed way and stood suddenly, preventing me from standing up too and leaving. "Wait! I have questions for you now." I yawned involuntarily, and said through it, "Huh. What about, darling Vladdy?" Lucky for me the last words came out garbled, and he only gave me a confused look before saying, "I just want to know who you are and what exactly your sources are."

I squinted one of my eyes and inhaled sharply, and made my thinking face, carefully considering this option laid before me. One hand rose and absently toyed with my large, circular pendant, a heavy silverish medallion before I glanced at Vlad's strangely pleading face and gave in. "Okay then. Ask away." I beamed and he reciprocated his version of a grin, a simply handsome smile making me glad I agreed.

"First question: who are you exactly, and why are you here?"

I almost shrugged, but paused and looked at my hands thoughtfully, both wrapped protectively over my little silvery amulet of sorts. "My name is Kelly Elizabeth Hines, fangirl extraordinaire, and lover of any and nearly all breeds of slash." I gave him a sheepish smile as the only explanation to his baffled expression, and finished my answer as best I could. "I'm here to interview and see the oh-so-handsome Vladimir Masters, alias Vlad Plasmius."

It took a moment to process, but he finally did, and nodded, asking another question, "Were you sent by anybody, or was it of your own free will you sought me out?"

Without missing a beat, I recited, as I had practiced, "It has been simply a passion of mine, as one of your innumerable fangirls, to meet you, speak to you, and if possible touch your," his eyes widened, "hair," and then relaxed. "I came here of my own free will, but I did get support from my fellows in the fanbase. I was requested to ask you particular questions; unfortunately I can assure you I have neither the courage nor the confidence of self to ask such… shameful questions of you."

He looked me over, measuring my physical cues to see if I was telling the truth. Apparently I was.

"Alright. Though I am a little confused what you mean by 'slash'," insert evil smirk by me, "I accept that. How did you find this all out?"

"Internet," I shot out immediately. Then I smacked my head; wrong universe. He cocked a brow, and I corrected myself, "In-bred knowledge." That earned a confused face, and I mentally berated myself. Vlad only trusts honest people, dum-dum. I sighed and corrected again, "I saw you on television." His simple look of continued bafflement prompted me to add cryptically, "Fangirls know everything, don't be surprised if we prove it, Vladdy dearest. Just accept that much. Telling you any more would drive you to the brink of insanity, show you how far there is to fall, begin walking you back to the realm of normalcy, then hit you in the face and kick you over the edge."

He now just deadpanned disbelief my way, but I shrugged. All I could say had been said on the matter. Anything else and I would most definitely be in trouble.

"Fourth question?" I offered hopefully. A change of subject was welcome in my opinion, and he looked me over a full minute before sighing and obligingly asked me, "So it is safe to assume that the – what was it? -- the Chronicles of the Times did not send you?" I nodded and tittered a bit before saying lightly, "They don't even exist…. technically," I added, keeping in my mind the information I had been given before coming here.

Vlad seemed shocked, and then said blankly, "Are you saying that you, an otherwise complete stranger to me, tricked me into letting you come into my home, under the impression that you were interviewing me about my relation to the Fenton family, on behalf of a non-existent publication, and then proceeded to manipulate me into not only admitting my existence as Plasmius, but reveal Daniel as well? Is that it?" I nodded meekly.

Long moments inched past, and I almost apologized, but just as I opened my mouth to do so, he bowed just barely and said sleekly, making my innards melt, "Well, done, Miss Kelly Elizabeth." I could only nod. Stiff in the seat I waited out the moment of silence tensely, nearly collapsing with relief when he spoke again.

"I guess this is my last question. Hmmm, what should I ask?" And as I perked up, mischievous grin playing across the edges of my lips, he interrupted, "And no, that is not my final question, just the question precluding it." My slumped shoulders looked almost pitiable, and my crooked finger held up previously with excitement in the air before me, was similarly collapsed, as if popped. Now deflated, I looked around the room somewhat sullenly, hand and finger still out, for no reason, and did my best to think of a question.

What would Vlad Masters/Plasmius want to know about me, or want to know about that only I could tell him? My hand dropped and a wicked, malicious almost, expression made its home on my face. I spoke slowly, deliberately, coloring my tone with all the evilness my slash demon had conjured up on the spot, "Would you like for me to tell you about the meaning of slash? Or maybe how many slash fanfictions exist on the internet about you and Danny?"

He seemed to pale slightly, assuming that was possible -- he was still pretty pale from the Plasmius Maximus' effect earlier. Vlad swallowed visibly a few times, thinking my question over carefully, though his face and manner didn't change at all while the moments trickled by.

"Well?"

One questioning glance made me smirk even more and he finally sighed and closed his eyes. Speaking with as much deliberation as I had, he asked me carefully, "Perhaps you could tell me both?"

Five minutes later, I walked out of the Masters household, or should I say ran for my life, and Vlad personally saw me off his property, red in the face, screaming out the names of all assortments of delicious baked goods. He was kind enough to tell me where I could go to get them, and with a jarringly cheerful grin, I answered, "That's lovely! I'll see you there, Vladdy!"

For some reason, I cannot fathom why, he got even redder, and I simply skipped away to my mother's SUV, notebook, sketchbook, and purse in hand. I hopped in the car, and was not greeted by my mother at the wheel, but my boss. "That was highly unnecessary, getting your first subject so upset."

I simply shrugged, not questioning how he knew what I had done, simply expressing in the shrug that I couldn't help it. The child before me sighed, blood red eyes blinking shut for a moment before he flickered to the form of an older, though still young man, and turned to the driving wheel of the car and said, "The next subjects will be much worse. Try not to make them want to kill you. It's a high school after all; they can make it a painful experience for you in every way if you cross them."

"Alright," I chirruped, and flipped open my sketchbook to start drawing Vlad's expressions while they were still fresh in my mind. The man sighed, moving up in age again to the image of a frail, old creature, and drove away, a yelling Vlad Masters screaming at us from behind as we sped away, face not only flushed from anger, but from what the slash demon hoped was embarrassment.

Interviews and Espionage of Doom #1: Vlad; complete. Interviews and Espionage of Doom #2: Casper High, upcoming.