Author's Note:
Hey again! Okay, so here's the first chapter. I've got the second one nearly finished, but after that updates will be a lot less frequent because classes have started again (COLLEGE. grrr....) and professors don't often offer leniency to those of us who'd rather be writing about fictional angsty billionaires instead of lab reports and term papers. I'll do my best to keep writing little by little; just bear with me. Also, please review if you can--it'll motivate me to write faster! Don't hesitate to mention things you'd like to see or offer any opinions on where you'd like this story to go, because truth be told, I don't know myself, and I'm open to your suggestions.
I. Reunion
A bright fork of lightning snaked through the sky, illuminating the partially flooded road Vlad was attempting to drive through. Long shadows were thrown up in the building windows on either side of him, forming twisted faces that stared down into the streets, silently mocking the few cars that dared to brave the treacherous weather. Vlad's lips turned down in a pout and he slowed to a halt at a light, drumming his fingers against the wheel. Of all the days to decide to drive… and he hadn't even bothered to check the forecast before leaving. Damn lake effect; if it wasn't cold enough to bury you in four feet of snow, it was drowning you in ten inches of rain.
Vlad sighed, leaning his head back in the seat and glaring at the still red light, attempting, to no avail, to will it to turn green. He let his mind begin to wander. He could have had his driver take him… he could have flown…. Vlad blinked. He could have literally flown.
But no. No. Vlad pushed the thoughts out of his mind, turning his attention back to the road. He hadn't used any serious ghost powers in a long number of months, and he wasn't going to start again now, regardless of whether or not Jack Fenton wanted to drag him back into the bizarre world of the paranormal. No. Driving was necessary; it helped to preserve the thin visage of normalcy Vlad had begun to erect in his life… and he wanted to drive himself because, well, he liked to drive. Vlad was sure he owned more cars than he knew about; it wasn't so awful to take one out for a spin every now and again. In fact, over the years he had found that driving was one thing he really missed.
With a powerful clap of thunder another shot of lightning arced through the clouds, illuminating the gawky, cobbled-together profile of Fenton Works just a few blocks in the distance. Vlad's stomach flopped inside him at the sight, and he internally grimaced at the reaction. He couldn't believe he was nervous. He hadn't felt nervous in a long time.
Hands tight on the wheel, Vlad eyed the crowded streets for a parking space as he drew near to his destination, but found none. It seemed every space on the block was occupied, and several people had double-parked. Grumbling, Vlad peered into the misted windows of Fenton Works as he rolled by, able to see nothing but dimly moving shapes. How many people did Jack and Maddie invite?
About a block down the street was a car parked at the curb at an angle that took two spaces. Vlad bit his lower lip and frowned. He didn't want to use his ghost powers… but maybe just this once. Glancing both ways down the street and thankful for the cover of rain, Vlad held out a hand and concentrated, his fingertips beginning to softly glow. With a quick flick of his wrist, the parked car lurched backwards several feet, rolling to a stop just inches from the truck behind it. Vlad smiled and turned his own wheel, performing a tricky little maneuver to slide himself into the newly made space.
"Idiot," he mumbled, glancing behind him as he stepped out of his car and popped open a large black umbrella. He swung the door shut and paced over to the meter, which he saw, much to his delight, still had three and a half hours in it. Vlad grinned. "Serves you right," he chuckled to the car he'd moved, now sitting in front of an empty meter. Straightening, he brushed a drop of water from the front of his coat, and, the determination in his stride revealing none of his internal reservations, made his way up the rainy street.
"V-MAN!" The front door of Fenton Works swung open to reveal a barrage of sound and a wall of solid orange. Before he had time to take in his surroundings, Vlad found himself engulfed in a suffocating bear hug that squeezed the air from his lungs and nearly caused him to drop his umbrella.
"Jack," Vlad wheezed, face pressed into his old friend's rubbery hazmat suit. Jack pulled away and beamed down at the disoriented Vlad, still gripping his shoulders. "You're, uh—" Vlad was going to say 'looking well,' but he found the wall of orange too distracting. "You're still wearing that hazmat suit." Jack grinned.
"I know! And you're wearing black!" He ruffled Vlad's coat and motioned at the umbrella. "Black is AWESOME. It reminds me of GHOSTS!"
Vlad managed a weak laugh as he allowed himself to be led inside, closing the dripping umbrella and running a hand through his damp silver hair.
"Maddie!" called Jack, turning over his shoulder and peering into the sea of faces, searching for his wife. "Vladdie's here!"
"Vlad?" Vlad's breath caught in his throat when he heard Maddie's voice, and in seconds her smiling face popped out of the kitchen door. She was as beautiful as ever. "Oh Vlad, I'm so glad you came! We've missed you." Maddie wove around several people before hugging him lightly and pecking him on the cheek. Vlad felt his ears turning pink and was suddenly grateful that the lighting in the entryway was low. Maddie smiled.
"Here," she said, motioning to his dripping outerwear. "Let me take those for you." Snapping himself out of his reverie, Vlad handed her the umbrella and shucked off his coat, revealing a white button down shirt layered with a rich burgundy sweater. He hadn't exactly known what to wear that morning and was suddenly conscious of his outfit. But, he reminded himself, the man and woman standing before him were wearing brightly colored hazmat suits, so really, nothing could've been too far off the mark.
"Oh wait," Vlad said, suddenly remembering his gift. He grabbed a fold of his coat from Maddie and reached into the pocket, drawing out a long black box. "Jack's present." He offered the box to Jack, who, face shining, inspected it closely before running to put it on a corner table with those he'd received from other guests.
"Thanks, V-Man!" he called, waving to Vlad before disappearing into a group of laughing people. Vlad stared after him, a bit lost. Being back around the Fentons was a strange kind of energy. He'd forgotten.
"Yes, really, thank you, Vlad," said Maddie softly, watching her husband sweetly before turning back to Vlad. "Jack's really missed you these past couple years. We all have." There was something odd in her voice. Something just a bit strained. Vlad was speechless. Maddie sighed, and a brief flash of nostalgia crossed her face before evaporating into a smile.
"Well," she said brightly, waving her arm to invite him in to the house proper. "Settle in, have a drink. Our home is your home. I've got to get back to the kitchen." And she waved to him, darting back and out of sight.
Vlad was floored. He stood motionless, shrouded in shadows, mouth slightly agape and staring into house. Something was fighting its way through his subconscious, something ineffable. Battling the urge to turn around and leave immediately, Vlad inched his way into the house. Moving carefully, he took precaution to keep from touching anyone and from attracting any attention, all while keeping his movements calm and suave. He'd attended—and hosted—enough corporate galas to know how to do so with skill.
Reaching a table covered with a wide assortment of refreshments, Vlad eyed several bottles of wine before sidling forth a few inches and picking one up by the neck. He couldn't see the label clearly—damn low lights; he needed his glasses—but he could see enough to know it was cheap. He frowned but poured a glass for himself anyways; he'd need something to help get through this. Edging into a nook of the room, Vlad took a sip, surveying his surroundings over the rim of the glass.
The room was decorated with several strings of colored, plastic lights, paper streamers woven around and through the cords. Vlad couldn't help but smile when he noticed that the plastic coverings around the lights were molded into ghost shapes. A large banner draped itself across the entryway to the room, actually nailed into the wall—Vlad sighed; Jack's doing, of course—upon which was painted, "HAPPY 5OTH BIRHDAY, JACK!" The banner, too, was decorated with tiny ghosts, and Vlad noticed in one corner a crudely drawn Jack blasting one into ectoplasmic goo with some kind of unidentifiable and crudely drawn gun. He certainly was back at the Fentons'.
Sighing and taking another sip of wine, Vlad carefully inspected the faces of the other partygoers, surprised to find he recognized many of them. Most were old friends from college; some he had even known quite well. There was Angie Turlin, laughing with Toby… Toby something, he couldn't remember; and that was Nate, his old roommate from sophomore year, grinning with his arm around a blonde woman who must have been his current wife. And there was Charlie, there was Francine, and that was Rob… or Rick, he couldn't remember which.
More and more names floated up from his memory, and with every old acquaintance he remembered, Vlad felt himself drawing further into the nook, desperate to avoid these people he'd never thought he'd see again. The memories they unearthed were just too damned uncomfortable….
"Ack!" Vlad stumbled, nearly falling backwards through the wall—
Wait. Through the wall? He'd been phasing through the wall—?
"Shit," Vlad cursed softly, grimacing and focusing his energy, forcing his body to fully solidify. It had been years since he'd lost control of his powers like that. It had been decades. He suddenly felt disoriented and drained. And claustrophobic. Fuck, he just wanted to be out of this place so badly—
"Vladimir!" A thick Russian accent and a hearty laugh greeted Vlad as a stout, red-faced man clad in a t-shirt and corduroy jacket bobbed over to him and cuffed him on the shoulder. "Vladimir Masters, well I'll be damned – I didn't know you were here!"
Vlad felt his pulse quicken and his stomach turn at the sudden attention, but years of public training kept his face clean of fluster and surprise.
"Alex." He smiled serenely down at the man, who he saw had already had more than enough to drink. "It's certainly been a while."
"Damn straight it has, you son of a bitch," Alex laughed, his speech slipping into his native tongue. He clipped Vlad on the shoulder again. "I haven't seen you in twenty-five years! I've heard about you, though, the famous Vlad Masters – just how rich are you now?" Vlad cringed internally; he really didn't want to talk about his financial situation. And that in and of itself was odd—usually, Vlad was more than comfortable boasting about his wealth, but here, surrounded by people who knew him before his success, he found his money just felt like a burden.
"Uh, well, I get by—"
"I'll bet you do! Alright now, c'mon," Alex said, placing a palm on Vlad's back and steering him towards an open space on a nearby couch. "We have some catching up to do!"
"Mm- well- I—" stammered Vlad, all too conscious of several pairs of eyes upon him. Eyes that recognized him. But finding himself at a loss, he relented and allowed himself to sit down with Alex. The conversation they struck up quickly deteriorated into a tipsy Alex speaking animatedly of his new theories on ghost detection and capture, a torrent of words, some in English, some in Russian, thinly interspersed with the occasional noncommittal noise from Vlad. Soon, others joined the conversation, offering their knowledge on the paranormal, and in no time at all Vlad found himself an unwilling participant in a drunken round-table discussion on ghosts.
Face now visibly displeased, Vlad scooted himself as best he could to the far end of the couch, away from those that were screaming the loudest. He tipped his glass to his lips, upset to find it empty. Wonderful. Fucking wonderful. Hungrily eyeing the table of refreshments across the room, Vlad had just begun to extricate himself from the crowd of ghost enthusiasts when he saw a bottle of wine and six-pack of beer scoot across the table of their own accord and promptly disappear. Vlad smirked.
"Really, now, Daniel…" he murmured, training his eyes on the spot and bringing them into careful focus. Slowly, the vague outline of a gangly young man sporting a shock of wild hair wavered into view. His features were pale, blurry and distorted, as though Vlad was viewing him through a pane of uneven glass. Even after years of practice, it was the best Vlad could do at seeing the invisible.
Suddenly, a misty oval—all Vlad could make of the boy's face—shot up in surprise, looking directly at Vlad.
Sensed me, did you? Thought Vlad, arching an eyebrow and grinning darkly at the boy. The blurry form swirled and shot up into the air, through the ceiling and to the floor above. Good for you….
Vlad continued to stare at the ceiling for a few more moments before shifting his gaze to the group of people still arguing around him. He noticed that several of them were wearing small black buttons with the phrase "STOP GHOSTS!" stamped across the front. Scoffing, Vlad rolled his eyes, resting his chin in his hand and watching for the opportune moment to take his leave. Luckily, it came to him.
"Dinner is served!" called Maddie cheerily, stepping into the room, oven mitts still covering her hands. Smiling, she waved them into the kitchen before turning to the stairs. "Danny?" she called up into the second level. "Dinner, honey!"
"Awesome!" Jack leapt up from his seat and led the progression of guests as they slowly filed into the room. Vlad was jostled by those around him in their eagerness to nab a plate, and found himself vaguely reminded of a herd of animals being led to the trough for their meal. However, when he spied the kitchen table decked out with a magnificent spread of food, he couldn't help but smile and grab a plate himself. Maddie certainly was a great cook. Vlad helped himself to a bit of everything, casting social etiquette aside, at least for the moment.
It was as he was scooping a small portion of an interesting looking pasta salad onto his plate that Vlad saw Danny for the first time that night as he ambled into the room, followed closely by Sam and Tucker. At least, he assumed those were whom he was seeing; it had only been a couple of years, but the appearances of all three had changed dramatically. Danny was taller; nearly as tall as Vlad himself, still thin and wiry but now with a defined and pointed appearance. His dark hair was longer, too, not by much, but enough to give it the appearance of having grown into its unruliness. And his wardrobe! Vlad arched a brow at Danny's tight black jeans, violently yellow shirt and the purple and black plaid scarf wrapped around his neck. Several earrings glinted in his upper ear, and one, Vlad saw as he looked closer, in his eyebrow. Interesting….
He shifted his attention to Sam and Tucker, who, to his surprise, were standing arm in arm and shooting coy glances at one another as they waited in line. Sam's hair was chopped close to her head and was dyed a ferocious shade of neon purple—it nearly matched the color of Danny's scarf—and her body was wrapped in a haphazard and obviously hand sewn black dress, torn in places to reveal several tattoos. A pair of heavy combat boots completed her ensemble, very possibly the same ones she was wearing when Vlad saw her last. And Tucker? Well, he still looked like a nerd, but one who'd taken a lesson from Danny's hair and simply grown into his awkwardness. He'd switched his red beret for a black ivy cap and had donned a loose-fitting white dress shirt and tie. He'd also replaced his thick, boxy glasses for a slimmed-down and more refined pair, a pair that reminded Vlad of his own.
All three were clearly drunk.
Vlad sighed, shifting backwards so others could reach the table and turning to find an isolated place to sit in the living room. He felt oddly nostalgic at the thought that the old trio of ghost fighting teenagers he'd so often battled were gone, wiped clear away by time, replaced with three entirely different adults. But that's what he'd wanted, right? He'd wanted to never see them again. That was the whole point…. Vlad slumped on the couch, lost in thought. He didn't even sense Danny until the boy was right behind him.
"So," drawled the familiar voice, dripping with its usual sarcasm. It was deeper than Vlad remembered. "Vlad Masters finally crawls out of his hidey hole to grace the Fenton's with his presence." Danny plopped onto a chair a couple feet from Vlad, turning it first so he could sit on it backwards, his chin on the backrest.
"Daniel," replied Vlad through gritted teeth, his face displeased and his voice flat. "What a pleasure to see you again. Really."
"Aw, come on," said Danny, grinning crookedly. "You can't say you haven't missed me. We haven't seen each other in ages."
"Yeah, a real shame, that," said Vlad blandly, poking at his food. He noted Danny's movements as the boy stealthily ran his eyes over a tall and mildly effeminate guest before turning back to his plate and shoving a forkful of chicken into his mouth.
"It is, though," Danny said, swallowing. "I really missed kicking your ass." Vlad's expression hardened.
"Ooh, it's your angry face." Danny chuckled. "How I've missed it. You're so cute when you're pissed." Vlad's fork froze halfway to his mouth.
"What?"
Danny just started to say something but was interrupted by Jack, who, having finished gobbling down his meal, had burst into the room with an armful of gifts.
"Presents!" he cried happily, his face glowing like that of a child's on Christmas morning. He wedged himself into a spot on the couch, dropping the boxes in a heap around him.
"Oh, Jack," Maddie said, glancing over at him. "People haven't even finished eating. And there's still the cake—"
"Oh, don't worry about it, Mads," Nick burst out from across the room. He swayed as he spoke, and Vlad noticed a half-finished glass of wine in his hand. "Jack, open mine first."
"Will do!" laughed Jack, fishing through the boxes for Nick's present, and, upon finding it, reducing the wrapping to shreds in a matter of seconds.
What followed was a rowdy opening of Jack's gifts. Paper and bows flew everywhere, lids were torn off boxes, and the guests (excluding Vlad), some already quite drunk and all excited by the new gadgets and ghost equipment the others had given their friend, joined Jack in the ripping and tearing, so that when a new gift was unearthed it was descended upon like a carcass by hungry vultures. Needless to say, Vlad watched from the couch, a newly procured glass of much needed wine in hand, keeping a safe distance from the chaos. Soon though, Vlad saw Jack come up from the littering of papers holding a thin black box. Vlad's gift.
Vlad watched, detached from those around him and yet still faintly anxious, as Jack and the other guests tore the ribbon off the box and tossed the top away.
"Alright, V-man!" Jack said, pushing back the tissue paper and uncovering the object inside. "You got me a… a…." Vlad saw an expression of confusion spread across Jack's face as the man pulled a long, slender knife from the box.
"Oh wow," muttered Danny softly, laughter in his voice. "A knife? Seriously? How transparent of you." Vlad glared at him before turning back to Jack, who was inspecting the gift, puzzled.
"Soooo…. you got me a sword?"
"It's technically a knife, not a sword, Jack," Vlad said, standing up and crossing the room. He deftly plucked the thing from Jack's hands and slipped it out of the hilt; shards of light danced across the polished double-edged metal. "But it's what inside this knife that makes it important."
Grasping either side of the blade with his forefingers and thumbs, Vlad pulled smartly, splitting the blade apart down the middle several centimeters. An assortment of oohs and aahs ran through the crowd as they saw what lay inside the hollow metal: a delicate and complex piece of electronic hardware that blinked and whirred to life as the knife was opened. Vlad handed it back to Jack for the stunned man and other guests to inspect.
"Cool!" he heard Tucker exclaim from the crowd.
"But what is it, Vlad?" asked Maddie, staring intently at the object over Jack's shoulder.
"It's a little bit of technology that keeps ghosts pinned in this corporeal plane," Vlad explained. He felt a smile tug at his lips as everyone leaned in closer to inspect the knife, their interest piqued now that they knew it had something to do with the supernatural. "And something that forces them to adhere to the physical laws of this universe." All eyes in the room shot up to him.
"That's impossible," came a voice from the crowd. "Ghosts aren't of this universe. They originate in the Ghost Zone, a universe parallel to ours which operates under its own set of physics—"
"Oh shut up," an agitated voice interrupted her. "Not that damned theory again; you know you don't have a shred of evidence to substantiate it—"
"The initial mathematics make sense!" shouted the woman, defending herself, but she quieted as Vlad raised his hands to quell the argument.
"Whatever you choose to believe regarding ghosts," he said, "the fact of the matter is that this device prevents ghosts from using any supernatural powers they may possess. The only requirement for this device to work is that it pierce the fabric of the ghost, which allows it to interrupt the ghost's spectral form. That's why I built it into a knife. In time and as technology improves, I expect this device could be made smaller, small enough outfit something a bit less archaic… bullets, perhaps."
"Vlad," said Maddie, awe in her voice. "Do you know what a breakthrough this is? If this device really works like you say it does, it would revolutionize the science of ghost hunting!"
"Well, it's only a prototype, just something I started a few years ago on my own," said Vlad, a bit flattered by her words but trying not to let it show. "In any case, I'm giving it to you and Jack to perfect."
"Well it's a wonderful gift," said Maddie warmly, hugging Jack around his neck. "Thank you, Vlad."
"Yeah, thanks, Vladdie!" said Jack, leaping up and vigorously shaking Vlad's hand. "With this thing, the ghosts won't stand a chance!"
"Uh, you're welcome—"
"I think this calls for a celebration!" Jack interrupted, breaking away from Vlad and heading to the bar, where he pulled out a rather large bottle of tequila. "Shots all around!" Several cheers and a smattering of applause broke out from the crowd. Vlad's face fell. He could barely stifle a grimace.
"Drink up, V-man!" said Jack, weaving through the crowd with two cups and shoving one into Vlad's hands. He downed his drink and looked to Vlad expectantly. Vlad dubiously peered into the cup.
"This is a bit more than a shot, Jack." It was, in fact, a lot more.
"I don't remember that ever scaring you when we were younger," Jack shot back, winking. He laughed and clapped Vlad on the back. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. It's my birthday. Drink."
Vlad hesitated, but tipped his head back and downed the glass, wincing slightly as the hard liquor scalded the back of this throat.
"There ya go, Vladdie!" Jack grabbed Vlad's cup and turned back to the bar.
"Now wait a minute, Jack," Vlad called after him. "I did drive here tonight, and I do intend on making it home tomorrow, not to a morgue and not this floor." Jack grinned.
"Now, again, I don't remember any of this scaring you before—"
"Jack…" warned Vlad.
"But, I suppose that if you're that concerned, you'll just have to stay the night." Vlad balked. Shit. That wasn't what he was after at all.
"Oh, god, no—I mean, I mean, I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome," Vlad sputtered, trying to find a way out of the invitation. He couldn't bear the thought of being trapped in this house for the entire night.
"Nonsense," said Jack, returning with another round of drinks, pushing his back effortlessly before turning to Vlad. "I was hoping you'd stay a while, anyways. I thought we could use some catching up." And the look he gave Vlad, even through his drunken haze, was such a look of resigned sadness and hopeful expectation that before Vlad realized what he was doing, he found himself nodding in agreement. He took the drink from Jack.
"Okay, sure. If you insist," he mumbled, instantly regretting his decision. As Jack smiled and turned to the other guests, Vlad drank heavily from his cup. He'd need it, he really would.
"I'll need to do something with my car," he rasped, gripping a nearby chair to steady himself. "I can't leave it out on the street all night."
"Park it in the back," Jack called, already on his third glass. He waved about wildly, attempting to point Vlad in the right direction and failing completely. "There's a lot back there where they won't ticket you."
Vlad nodded, setting down his cup somewhere and heading for the door. Everything seemed very loud and very close. He couldn't believe he had agreed to stay… agreed stay here in the one place he'd do anything to escape. But that look in Jack's eyes—it tugged at a very tender place in his heart, a place that had gone untapped for many years. Vlad rubbed his temples, frowning. It was an uncomfortable feeling and he didn't appreciate it at all. Fortunately, the alcohol was beginning to take effect, helping to numb the niggling awareness at the back of his mind that he might be desperate for, if he was brave enough to admit it, friendship. But he wasn't; of course not, he wasn't even willing to admit that that's what it was, and Vlad pulled open the front door, letting the sting of the cold air bite into his skin and wash away the thoughts. Shuddering, he fumbled in his pockets for his keys and stepped into the night, closing the door behind him.
