The summer months that followed that year would forever be a blur to Vlad. The knowledge that Jack and Maddie had gone out together, whether it was platonic or something more, seemed to ignite some fire inside him that refused to cool even the slightest bit. It did nothing to help him from feeling cold – in fact, it only seemed to make him colder – and it didn't help him get any better, but he couldn't and wouldn't let it go. If there had been any hope for him and Jack to get back together before the fire started up, it had burned away in an instant.
The flame did leave one other impact on him other than escalating his hatred for Jack into something larger than Mount Everest – it had him working. No longer did he look upon his routines as a hinderance, and no longer did he go though them without any real effort. He went completely mad in pushing himself as hard as he could at all the workouts and tests the doctors had him do, took all the medications and treatments they recommened exactly as they recommended, got himself the healthiest meals he possibly could (and when you're going on hospital food, that is quite the achievement), and spent his evening hours throwing himself around his room in any kind of difficult acrobatic movement he could make up. None of this helped him recover any faster, and he was damn well aware of that. But it made him feel like he was doing something to help himself get well. It made him feel like he could get well. That had become the only thought that the fire would allow in his mind. To get well. To get out of the hospital. To find Maddie and make up with her. And to get back at Jack. He didn't know how, when, where, or what with, but he was determined to pay back everything that Jack had done to him. Jack ruined his life – fine then. He would ruin his. He appeared to be stealing Maddie – he'd steal her back. He scarred his face for life – he'd just scar Jack's psyche for life. They say "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," and that was Vlad's new philosophy.
Vlad had not shared the reasons for his new steely resolve with his doctors – he doubted it would be wise to share them with anyone. Consequently, his doctors now had to worry about that along with all of the questions posed by his ailments. They had made absolutely no progress in figuring out what exactly Vlad's acne was made up of or how to get rid of it, the optomitrist had had no luck with his eyes, and his temperature still stayed below normal. His newfound determination had them running KAT scans and tests on his brain to see if the contamination had started to affect his mind, but of course, they found nothing wrong. A baffling situation on their end had suddenly gotten a lot worse.
These new tests and lack of results affected Vlad far worse than they should have, even if he was now putting his all intro them. It seemed that there was one other thing that came with the flame inside him – an extreme impatience and a demand for results. Through all his sweat, all his work, all the bandages still wrapped around his head, he was seething with rage that the doctors had still uncovered nothing. He had held his tongue so far, but at the end of the upcoming week, he resolved to make inquiries during his weekly report.
Every Saturday night, the doctor in charge of Vlad's treatment came in and gave him a report on what had been done over the week and what his condition now looked like. The man had giant glasses that made him look like an owl, and his voice was so dull he made Ben Stein look like an international opera star. Mix that together with reports that tended to be the same week after week and month after month, and one's Saturday nights tend to look more than a bit depressing. Tonight proved to be no exception.
"…So as you can see, Mr. Masters," the doctor was wrapping up, his drab voice seeming to echo across the room, "We have once again run all of our various tests on you, and we still have yet to crack the mystery of your most extraordinary case of ecto-acne. Any questions?" Vlad prepared himself. Now was the time to make inquiries.
"No questions at all," he hissed, sarcasm lining his voice like fine lace, "especially since this is the same report you've given me for almost the entire last five months! Haven't you been able to figure anything out yet!? You're a doctor, for pete's sake! Show some effort!" the doctor's bored expression didn't change.
"That's a very good question, Mr. Masters," he said after a few seconds rolled by, "It reminds me of a few I often get, such as 'why can't we develop a cure for cancer?' or 'why can't we stop male pattern baldness,' or one that I ask myself, 'why is there nothing invented by a doctor that can get me a date after twenty years spending Saturday nights with my complaining patients?'" his last sentence held just the faintest trace of mockingness in it through all the drab. Vlad sent out a deadly flash from his eyes at him. Sensing that perhaps he had gone a bit too far, the doctor got serious (or, as serious as one with a voice like that could sound).
"In all honesty, Mr. Masters, I would love to tell you that we had a new miracle cure that we developed that would cure everything that has gone wrong for you and would allow you to leave and be free, but we don't. We have no idea how to treat ghost-related ailments, and we don't have the right tools to figure out how. I apologise, but that's how it's been for that past few months, and that's how it's looking to stay."
"Then why not bring in someone who does know what they're doing concerning ectoplasmic ailments!?" Vlad snarled.
"You know, we have tried contacting a few paranormalists. There's one who lives here in Wisconsin, but when we contacted him about your condition, he proceeded to laugh at us, called us all crazy, and hung up. When we contacted him again, saying that your friend Mr. Fenton…"
"Former friend," Vlad hissed.
"…That your former friend Mr. Fenton had a theory on ecto-acne, he called him a crackpot and hung up again," Vlad commended whoever this paranormalist was for the crack at Jack, but even that couldn't quell his anger at not having someone around who knew what they were doing with ghosts.
"Anyone else?" he demanded.
"We've been calling around. Apparently your case is new to the paranormal world as well, since everyone keeps giving us the same response. There was one in London who said he believed us and would take a look at you, but he said he's unable to make it down from England until September. He requested that you remain here until he arrives."
"No worries there," Vlad grunted. This was just perfect. Stuck in the hospital until September with more of the same lack of progress. He wanted to get cured!
"I do feel rather badly for you, so I've arranged to let you get a TV in here in time for the Packers game. I was told by one of your friends you were a fan of the team, and I believe that the game's on tomorrow at eight. Any other questions?" Vlad shook his head, not looking at the doctor, "Very well then. See you later, Mr. Masters," he walked out of the room. Vlad laid back down on the bed, sighing. With more of these reports and the knowledge that real help was still so far away, it was going to be a very long time until September.
"Well," he sighed yet again, "at lease I'll get to watch the Packers."
---
"Oh, come on!" Vlad yelled at the screen in front of him, "What kind of call is that!?" it was now past nine in Wisconsin. As promised, Vlad had been given his TV earlier that day. It was rather small and it didn't have the best reception, but he could see the image. At eight o' clock, he came charging up from his after-dinner workout in the gym, diving into his room, onto the bed, and dragging himself over to turn on the TV. After a bit of channel surfing, he found the game (the TV didn't pick up many channels, so it wasn't particularly hard to find). Since then, he has spent the past hour of the evening screaming at his television screen as the Packers, playing the visitor to the New England Patriots, suffered injuries, bad plays, and unfair calls (any call against them falling under Vlad's definition of "unfair.") Early on nurses had kept running in, worried that something was wrong, but now, no one bothered. Part of this was that word had gotten around that Vlad was just caught up in the game, and part of it was his rather unpleasant attitude towards them for interrupting the game.
Vlad started to calm down from the call when the next play began. The Patriots had the ball, but no sooner had the ball left from the grip of the quarterback than a player on the Packers leapt over and intercepted the ball. Even with them as the visiting, a fair portion of the crowd rose up in applause. Vlad nearly leapt up out of bed with all his hollering and delight. The interceptor went charging up the field, dodging the linemen and eyeing the the touchdown line. The announcer was screaming his progess as the play went on and he passes the 30-yard line…the 20…the 10…and then, up from behind, a lineman leapt forward and brought him crashing to the ground.
"NO!!" Vlad howled, throwing his hands up into the air in fists and staring up at he ceiling, and enraged look on his face, "Curse that lousy, no good…" a strange humming sound shot out below him, and he immediately silenced himself. An explosion of cold seemed to overtake his body, but it wasn't an uncomfortable, chilling cold. It wasn't like any kind of cold he had ever felt before. It was like his body had been filled up with air from the winter and had somehow adjusted itself to not start breaking into goosebumps or shivers. A curious feeling had also overcome him at the waist, as if some strange energy was radiating itself around him. The humming sound was coming from his waist. Vlad could feel the sensation creeping along his body in both directions, the humming sound splitting in two, one echo getting louder while the other moved away. He still hadn't looked down, so he was looking up when a glowing ring of pure white energy tinged with blue passed over his head and up his arms. As it passed, it left a white glowing outline along his body – almost like a ghost.
Slowly Vlad lowered his hands and looked down. His entire body seemed alive with cold and and a strange energy racing though his veins. Outside, his entire body held the ghostly outline, from his hands up to his shoulders and down to his legs. He could also feel a change in the way the bandages felt on his face. They seemed to be a bit more loose, and the way the felt on his face was smoother than it had felt in months.
"What the…" Vlad raised his hands to his face and pressed down on the bandages. He could feel no pulsating pimples underneath, no clumps of ecto-acne creating hideous protrusions. It felt…normal. Could he be…he had to look for himself. The game now the last thing on his mind, he got out of bed and headed over to his dresser to pick up a mirror. Only…his feet weren't touching the ground. He looked down and found himself…floating. Yes, floating. Vlad now gulped. This could now end up as both a blessing and a curse. He floated over to the dresser, where the mirror lay face down. With a deep breath, he tore off his bandages with his right hand and picked up the mirror with his left. He nearly dropped it out of shock.
His ecto-acne was gone. There were no pulsating zits, no strange sprouting pimples, no oily disfiguration – it was completely gone. His hands trembling, Vlad set his right hand up against his face, feeling to see if this wasn't all some strange dream or illusion. He had a bit of a beard going from the last few months, but otherwise the skin on his face was smooth, free of any blemishes whatsoever. Beyond that, his hair was back to its original colour. No longer did it look like had gotten hair transplants from a man of 65. It was even darker than it had been originally – it was now jet-black rather than the lighter shade he originally had. With these blessings, however, came the curse. His face also held the ghostly outline of the rest of his body, and his eyes were once again in a hot blue glow. As he stared at his eyes in the mirror, he came to realise just how much he had begun shaking, how his breaths were hissing in through clenched teeth, and how the glow in his eyes was bright enough that the mirror reflected the light up to the ceiling.
Suddenly, his entire left arm seemed to vanish before his eyes. It completely disappeared. He could still feel it attached to his body, but it felt lighter than air. The mirror, now floating in mid-air, dropped back onto the dresser. He could actually feel it passing through his hand as it fell. It didn't hurt; it was as if water was pouring through his hand; but the pure shock of it had him jumping back, his feet finally touching ground. No sooner had they, however, than his entire lower body seemed to become a glowing white outline filled in with a tinged, transparent dark blue. As though he were plunging into a pool where the water passed through his body, Vlad fell into the floor, frantically clawing at it with his arms to keep himself from falling all the way down. He continued to sink, his upper body starting to turn intangible as well.
'Get up,' Vlad concentrated, 'Get up…fly up…fly –' where that last thought came from he didn't know, and he didn't understand it, but his reflexes did. His body suddenly went up into the air again, his form turning tangible as quickly and unexpectedly as it had gone intangible before. Vlad had just started racking his brain with questions about that when a white-blue ring shot out from his middle, the cold again flowing continuously from around his body and a strange sensation overtaking him where the rings hovered. This time, however, they seemed to be taking away the energy rather than giving it to him. The ring split in two, one moving up his body, the other moving down towards his toes. As they passed, the strange radiating energy went with them, and the outline on his body went away. When the rings completed their pass, his face felt uneven once again, and he dropped to the floor with a thud. Scrambling to his feet, he ran over to the dresser and picked up the mirror. His ecto-acne had returned, his eyes no longer glowed, and his hair was again white as snow. He felt dismayed at the return of his disfigurations, but it was far from the worst horror on his mind right now.
The energy that had just overtaken him seemed familiar. He had experienced once before – when the blast from the Proto-Portal had hit his face. His eyes, his face's return to its original appearance, the glow around his body, and his sudden masteries of flight, invisibility, and intangibility all matched up to things that he had discovered, Maddie had proven, or Jack had theorised. He may have been jumping to conclusions, but at the moment, there was only one explanation that made sense to him. He hated the thought. He tried to deny it with every once of his brain that hadn't accepted the explanation. He desperately searched for another. But it kept coming back. He had somehow, through that blast, absorbed spectral energy into his system. With his anger as the trigger, it had manifested itself. He, Vlad Masters, who had vowed to go into ghost hunting after college – he was a ghost.
Vlad was barely aware of himself backing up to his bed and sitting down. He was barely aware of how raspy his breathing had become. And he was barely aware of the Packer's amazing touchdown play taking place on the screen. The full knowledge of just how much Jack had done to him was seeping through every vein in his body, pouring out from his eyes, and setting his hands into a tremble. The flame inside him, still plenty hot, had gone into the highest blaze it had reached ever since it began. And suddenly, with a lurch and a throw of his head up skyward, Vlad let out the longest, loudest, hateful scream that he would ever utter in his life.