A little background. The Hero's Villain and Thrill of the Chase are only part of an overarching canon-compliant storyline that I have written and planned. There's a whole mythology spread around stories, shorts, and many many of the entries in the Through-DP collection. While a complete listing is in my deviantart gallery under the folder "Sides of the Same Coin", not everything published here on fanfiction. net.
This is one such story.
'Contracts' is rated hard T.
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The isolation rooms at the University of Wisconsin's teaching hospital were quiet. Quiet, blank, sterile, bright despite the lack of any windows. Occasionally a bad case of the measles would find its way into these rooms or sometimes a particularly difficult case of tuberculosis. The man in the last room on the row had no such disease.
Shockingly white hair splayed across the pillow. Deathly pale skin blended in with the white sheets, the white walls, the white tubes and floor and lights. The only spots of color were the result of acute radiodermatitis, bright red blisters and seeping patches where the skin of his face was damaged and peeling away. Occasionally pale blue eyes would open and stare blankly at the wall of glass separating him from the hallway.
Today they opened to see a group outside his room staring in, taking notes. Maybe a dozen people about his age, medical students, led by a single doctor. He could hear them...
"This patient was admitted with severe facial dermatitis and debilitating headaches," the doctor said. "After a cursory investigation into this young man's activities radiation exposure was suspected and treatment began with palliative care and potassium iodide. Mild leukopenia began to present itself 16 days after initial exposure. At this point the patient was put into isolation. Treatment with potassium iodide was stopped and palliative care continued. The patient's leukopenia progressed to moderate at 27 days and severe at 31 days, leading to complete immune system collapse at 32 days. Broad spectrum empirical therapy was started on the onset of fever at 25 days. Now then, who can tell me what's abnormal about this case?"
"He still has hair," said one of the students. "Though it has turned white..."
"That is correct. In fact, according to the patient that was his natural hair color before his exposure. Yes, according to all known research on acute radiation exposure, epilation is supposed to occur after exposure to 300 rad. His exposure is still unknown but because of his blood count is estimated at greater than 1000 rad. However the timing of the onset of his symptoms suggest a much lower dose, closer to 200 rad. An additional oddity was the lack of any gastrointestinal symptoms. Generally, the onset of vomiting is used to determine time of exposure in doses above 400 rad. Biopsy has not yet been performed because of danger to the patient but as soon as we can get him into autopsy we'll be taking samples of all of his tissues to determine the exact effects of exposure."
"He's looking at us..." One of the students was looking in on the man in the bed, staring straight into blue eyes so pale that their color washed away in the white room. Eyes that stared straight back at them. "What is his mental state?"
"Difficult to assess. He is currently too weak to respond to questioning and this is not expected to improve. However, an EEG was run yesterday and showed some very interesting activity, as though he is not only conscious but being constantly stimulated."
Behind those blue eyes the white-haired man struggled against what was happening to him. His body had all but shut down, his consciousness turned inward. Abandoned by friends and family, Vlad Masters could do nothing but despair in the darkness that was his own mind. And yet...
He wasn't alone. He could feel it. Something was here in the dark with him, something he didn't understand. Sometimes he thought he could sense it: a flash of burning red eyes, the smell of ozone before a lightning strike, the feel of strong arms enveloping him from behind. He could sense it now, a burning hot presence wrapping around him and pulling him away from the bright white light of the hospital room. Away from the eyes that looked back at him. Away...
The world grew dark as his eyes drifted shut.
The normally quiet isolation room came alive with noise as alarms began to sound. A doctor and two nurses ran up, spending precious few moments pulling on masks and gloves before breaking containment and barging into the isolation room. The crash cart was wheeled in as a quick, heated discussion debated the merits of even trying. In the end, a dozen medical students watched from the hallway as the paddles were considered then dismissed. One by one the machines were turned off.
Thirty five days after he was blasted in the face by an attempt to open a portal to the ghost dimension, 25 year old Vladimir Masters was declared dead.
And yet...
Vlad opened his eyes to darkness. The heat pressed on him from all sides, oppressive and heavy like an approaching storm. He felt curiously weightless, not falling but not resting on anything. Almost like... nothing...
"Am I dead?" he asked. The sound echoed as it left his throat, reverberating as though he was hearing himself from far away.
That's up to you...
Vlad spun around, peering into pitch blackness. He could hear that voice though it made no sound. It sounded almost like his own but deeper, softer, a distinct purring note beneath its surface. Still, he wished he could see where it was coming from...
Coalescing out of the void stepped a... man? A man made of the darkness that surrounded them. Sparks spread from this man, forming red and white flowing cloth. Deep red eyes glowed from within that face of darkness.
"Who... who are you?" Vlad asked. He tried to back away from this dark figure but no matter how much he tried it seemed as though he couldn't move.
That's up to you isn't it, bokor?
"B-bokor?" Vlad didn't know what a bokor was much less why this... entity would address him as such. "I-I'm not a..."
Those red eyes turned calculating. An easy grin spread through the darkness, showing cruelly pointed fangs. Of course. For now, houngan, you may call me Ge Rouge.
Vlad shuddered at the creature's fangs. He couldn't call this a man anymore, not even in his own mind. "Are you a... ghost?" he asked.
Ge Rouge made a displeased noise and then came closer. Heat and darkness seemed to flow around Vlad, imprisoning him as he felt around for some way out. I have been called that, I admit. It is not a term I choose, houngan.
"Nor is 'houngan' a term I choose," Vlad said. It would help if he knew what that term meant. "My name is Vlad. Now then, ghost, where are we? How did we get here?"
This is your mind, houngan. I am here because Legba opened the Way and I attempted to mount the horse offered to me. Imagine my surprise when I was mounted instead. I've been here ever since, within the depths of your mind. How did you get here?
"I..." Vlad couldn't answer. The last few weeks were a blur of pain and loneliness, of fever and delirium. "The last thing I remember was seeing a group of medical students staring at me like I was nothing more than a research specimen. I was so tired of it, just so tired. I... fell asleep?" No, that wasn't right. It was different from mere sleep, very different. Something was fundamentally wrong here.
Of course... You, ah, 'fell asleep'.
Vlad glared at the ghost and its voiceless mocking words. He knew that this was something more, something worse than sleep or even a coma. That didn't mean he was willing or able to admit it. He wasn't dead, he was just dreaming.
Just dreaming...
Then why couldn't he wake up?
-00000-
Hours, days, an eternity later Vlad opened his eyes to a flash of light. He found himself unable to move, cold and naked on a metal table. There was a sheet over him but someone was holding it up. He recognized one of the doctors who'd treated him, one who'd dismissed his explanation of 'ecto-acne' and scolded him for careless lab practices. After all, a physicist should know better than to intentionally expose himself to a beta radiation source. The scoldings only stopped after Vlad had gone on a long-winded, angry rant about Jack Fenton and his careless idiocy. Who in the hell even turns on a machine with their lab partner's head inside it? Jack knew what he was doing, he was looking right at the proto-portal when he activated it, he saw Vlad was in the way and yet he still activated the thing without a single thought to his friend's safety. Right?
Vlad tried to demand what was going on. He couldn't move his mouth. He couldn't seem to breathe, either. And it was so quiet without the pounding of his heart in his ears...
Oh god...
Vlad screamed, a silent echo that reverberated within his own mind, unable to escape. He watched as gloved hands grabbed his eyelids and slid them shut.
Darkness.
Strong arms wrapped themselves around him from behind. A red glow to his left told him the creature was there, right behind him, its head resting on his shoulder. You're dead, houngan.
"I'm not dead, I can't be dead! No, this isn't happening!" Vlad knew he was panicking but this seemed like the perfect time for it.
Your body lies dead and broken at the mercy of the undertaker. Soon you'll be laid in a coffin and buried. Accept it, houngan. The caress of satin, the reek of pine, the steady thump of the gravedigger's shovel as he dumps warm earth over your bed...
Vlad pulled away from the ghost and whirled to face it, blue eyes flashing. "Shut up!" he shrieked. "Just shut up! I'm not dead! I'M NOT DEAD!"
You are. I've always liked the sound of the digger's shovel. It's like having a heartbeat again. Almost as good as the drums...
Vlad swung wildly, throwing punch after punch at the ghost in front of him. Each time he missed as he seemed to misjudge exactly where the darkness ended and the ghost began. Or maybe it was just toying with him, laughing as he exhausted his fury and despair bubbled up in its place. Through tear-clouded eyes Vlad swung at those red eyes and connected with something! A moment of surprise was all he managed to feel before a black hand gripped his wrist and suddenly there was nothing but pain. He screamed as his body burned away in an instant, replaced by fire, smoke, electricity, the stench of ozone.
As fast as it began it stopped. He was whole again, or as whole as he could expect to be in this place. He sank to his knees as the reality of his situation came crashing down on him. He was... No, not dead. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead otherwise how would he have been able to look through his own eyes? He must still be alive somehow. Alive and trapped within his own mind with the red-eyed monster that watched him from arm's length. There had to be a way out of this. There just had to be.
"There's a way out," he mused aloud. "I know there is. I just have to find it."
Ge Rouge smiled.
-00000-
Vlad was exhausted. He'd been trying everything he could think of. He couldn't move anything. He couldn't even tell how badly he was failing at it because he couldn't open his eyes to see his body. No matter how loud he screamed it always echoed right back at him, trapped within walls he could never reach. He'd tried pacing the edges of his mind only to find himself always in the center no matter how far or in which direction he walked. And always that damnable creature was there, watching him with amusement. Vlad glared at the red eyed ghost.
Found your way out yet?
Vlad didn't answer.
You could always give up. Dance with the Baron. It would be easy. I could show you how.
"You're offering to show me how to kill myself," Vlad said, sullenly.
Of course not. You're already dead, remember?
"I'm not dead."
So you say.
"Look, either say something useful or shut up!"
Vlad didn't like the way the red-eyed ghost was looking at him. It looked... hungry. Scheming. It knew something...
There are ways out of every prison. Though sometimes the way out is worse than staying within.
It definitely knew something. Vlad glared at the ghost and refused to rise to its bait.
He had to admit, though, that it was right. There were ways out of every prison. That meant there were ways out of this one, too. He just had to find it.
-00000-
Light flooded Vlad's eyes and he could hear the sound of a vast tray being moved. He was cold, so cold, and still naked. He looked up into bright flourescent lights and a face he'd never seen before. Curious eyes looked him over before turning to say something, words he couldn't hear.
All right... now... Vlad thought to himself before throwing everything he had into something simple, something unmistakable. He tried with all his might to blink. Just a blink, that's all he wanted. Just one single, simple little... No. No! No no nonononono...
Back in his own mind again Vlad screamed in frustration as gloved hands yanked his eyes closed. He collapsed onto the floor of... wherever he was... and tried not to cry.
A tiny portion of his psyche pointed out that at least it was warm here. He ignored it and curled into a ball.
There is still a way out...
"No there isn't," Vlad said. "I could feel where my body is now. It's in the morgue freezer. Next time they bring me out it'll be for autopsy. Even if by some miracle I'm not dead now I will be as soon as they start taking my organs out."
And if you awaken on the coroner's slab before you take the knife?
"I've tried. I've tried..." Vlad buried his face in his arms. He wouldn't cry. Even if all there was to see him was a red-eyed ghost he wouldn't cry. He was too proud to cry.
I haven't tried.
It took a moment for those words to sink in, a moment before Vlad found himself sitting up and staring at the ghost in wonder. "You would do that?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "For me?"
Of course I can't just awaken you and then be on my way. It doesn't work that way.
"Of course not." Vlad wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.
There are conditions... Ge Rouge smiled and pulled a glowing rose-colored scroll out of the darkness surrounding them. He handed the glowing scroll to Vlad.
Vlad opened the parchment and... Um... "I, ah, don't read French," he admitted.
Ge Rouge looked unsurprised. It's a standard possession contract. It identifies you as a prepared vessel, as a horse to be ridden. It identifies me as the one who will make the claim of possession. I will be the one to ride you for as long as I so choose.
Vlad thrust the contract away. "I will not be forced into the back of my own mind," he snapped. "I would rather die than be forced to watch something live my life for me!"
You would not, I assure you. Certain conditions are necessary for me to subsume your mind. The most I would do is influence. Whispers in your ear suggesting a course of action. In return you would have access to some of my power. As conditions change the powers you have access to will change as well.
"I don't know... I wish I could read this..."
Ge Rouge floated behind Vlad and ran a black hand through white hair. Vlad felt his eyes slip closed as sparks danced along his neurons. When he opened them again the contract was in... wait... It was still written in French but he could understand it now. He looked at the ghost, confusion etched plainly on his face.
Consider that a taste of what this could mean.
Vlad nodded and looked down at the contract again.
'I, the undersigned, hereafter to be known as the horse do accept...'
Vlad couldn't believe he was considering this.
-00000-
He didn't want to sign it. He didn't want to be dead. He didn't want this to have happened to him. Here he was, Vlad Masters, PhD candidate at the University of Wisconsin, trapped within his own mind with a creepy red-eyed ghost. Trapped within his dead body like some sort of zombie, unable to contact the outside world, unable to tell them that he was still here. Trapped and considering a possession contract.
He knew what it said. The more he used this ghost's power the more of himself he would lose. But then it wasn't as though the ghost got off, either. The more power the ghost offered the more of itself it would lose. In all likelihood this would end with the both of them subsumed into some strange new whole, a creature neither ghost nor human. Something in between.
It was not a comforting thought.
Decide, Vlad. Decide quickly.
"What?"
A flash of light and Vlad could see what was happening outside. He was laid out on an autopsy table. One doctor was fitting himself with a mask, another was already holding the scalpel.
Decide. Sign it. Sign!
The hand holding the quill paused, unsure what to do.
The knife descended.
SIGN!
-00000-
The first drag of the scalpel induced a minor muscle twitch. Nothing abnormal, especially for a body as relatively fresh as this one. The second one coincided with a much more serious twitch, almost knocking over a tray. The coroner checked for a pulse, just to make sure, but of course he wasn't going to find one. Death by radiation poisoning, over a day in the freezer, this guy was well and truly dead.
The third cut finished as the dead guy sat up and screamed, sending the coroner to the opposite end of the room. A code blue was called for the morgue, sending a team of nurses scurrying in to try keep this guy from dying again.
Twenty seven hours after he was declared dead Vladimir Masters woke up.
-00000-
"You have no idea how glad I am that your organization is willing to take Mr. Masters in as a patient," the doctor said. He stood outside the long term ICU with a man in a white suit. Inside the room young Vlad Masters lay sleeping, still fading in and out of consciousness same as he had been since he woke up during autopsy a week prior.
"Of course, of course," said the man in white. "By the way, whatever happened to his lab partners?"
"Well, the incident was legally ruled 'accidental' so neither of his lab partners will be facing charges. In terms of academic action, on the other hand... Well, Jack Fenton was held ethically responsible and has had his candidacy stripped and all of his completed units revoked. He will never be admitted by a domestic university again. Madeline Walker was also found responsible but to a lesser capacity. She's been placed on academic probation for one year and will be unable to apply for grants during that time. If she stays with the university she won't be getting a stipend. She's going to find her education suddenly becoming very expensive."
"Basically, unless they manage to discover something spectacular their futures have been irreparably damaged. Fitting given this young man almost lost his life. But I meant in terms of reactions. Have either of them shown signs of exposure to dangerous substances?"
The doctor shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Fenton was in here a couple of times for alcohol poisoning. Probably not what you're looking for."
"We just need to assess the possibility that the contamination that led to this man's exposure may have been more widespread than initially thought. If anyone, no matter how unrelated, comes to your attention with these same symptoms, please contact me. We alone have the proper facilities to treat this particular type of exotic radiation poisoning. Which is why we will be transferring Mr. Masters to our facility as soon as the paperwork is completed."
"Of course."
The man in the white suit smiled, a purely professional gesture that didn't meet his eyes. He shook hands with the doctor and allowed the man to scurry away to his next patient. The man in white, however, stayed to watch Vlad as he struggled in the throes of some inner battle with... something. The man watched as Vlad's hand seemed to go intangible, phasing through the mattress before being yanked back out of the bed.
The man in white smiled again, this time genuine.