Sladin or Bust – Explicit One Shots from the Vault of Sladin –

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Ghost Slade, what more can a writer ask for? And, it is very possessive Slade wanting an unaware sci fi paranormal enthusiast and writer (inspired by 1408 film) in a creepy manor in the dead of night. Can Dick spend the night avoiding becoming the spook's plaything or will the sun never rise on his award-winning article by dawn's first light?

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Part One: Chasing a Gust of Wind

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Cradling the cell in between the crook of his cheek and shoulder blade, Dick Grayson; editorial voice of "Paranormal Exposure" magazine, had come across next to little on his quest for the perfect scoop. The coffee was tepid on his desk, and papers were flapping about on old stories of horror, murder and unexplained occurrences not documented fully for decades. Snippets in the library's database and online did little to excite the writer, his desk full of newspaper clippings and a few false leads as if this were a thriller novel he'd intended to write after a deadline for something better. His fiancé had taken a break as the man scanned too many documents in hand, his phone threatening to cut off as the editor on the line "Mr. Wharlton" of Spectre Today had put the man in the hot seat. At twenty-four, so many college courses wasted, a scholarship to a criminal justice school in the big city denied, this is what he had to come up with.

~ I want to see a story in your John Hancock by the end of this next week, or I'm the one who's going to have to cover the scoop of why the most influential paranormal expert can't even get invited to a bash hosted by Dracula. You have time, but barely so make it count, one – hundred and ten percent! ~

With a click, Dick dropped the cell and reached for his tepid drink, only to drag it down and sputter at the taste. "Totally, fucked if I can't pull this off…" He ran a hand through his dark locks of hair and sat wondering at the lit computer monitors if he should look into his old job at a law firm…

"Yeah, and on that resume; "works well with ghosts, spooks, and goblins, but not people…"

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Dick took a break and went to get even more coffee to iron out his nerves. Here is sunny Cali, it was better than Manhattan, but with what he'd accrued from this job, plus the funds his adoptive father had laid out for him in the near future, he could take a trip. Just maybe, to see other places, to get to see the hot spots of the paranormal that made more sense than serial murdering evil spirits in Hollywood.

Where was his next hook, he wondered as he was handed a large black coffee and even drank it -only to forget that his tongue would know no mercy as he stuck it out and blew on the rest of his cup.

Trudging back to his office, he wanted to think that maybe a scoop would fly into his face. This was a city of entertainers, of clowns and damsels in distress. It was –

"GANG WAYY!!"

The man swerved with his cup in tow as the roller-skater in a purple suit with…. was he wearing a mask?

"Dude! You so should have moved when I told ya to." The kid started back around and skidded his wheels to a stop in front of Dick's now splattered jacket. "You ok, bro? Oh, so you…"

"I'm on a deadline, sorry kid. Not a big deal."

"Wait! I know you!" The kid pointed and then pulled out his cell too quick to match Dick's own level of dexterity. Gen Z kids were a terror, truly…

"Name's Gar and I so loved your last book, dude! "A Haunting in Hollywood??" He showed the image of the cover, the book in a sepia orange with a family or group of families on the cover and right below that, was his face.

"Richard Grey!" The teenager was foaming at the mouth, even if his green olive (Green but Dick is in denial that it's real.) skin tone had the most character out of that sepia design on his book jacket.

"You are a sci – fi lengendado, man! Can you sign my helmet!"

Dick smiled and pulled out a marker from the breast pocket of his blue jacket, the kid obviously a fan of his work, even if it was just for someone's entertainment. "What is your next book gonna be about? I'd love to know when the release will be. My friend Jaime' was talking about the next thing you write, and –

"I'm on a break, working on some side projects until inspiration hits." Dick told him and capped the pen once his name boldly stood pronounced above the teen's green set of thick brows.

"Oh? Dude, I heard from a blog and a few chats that there was some old dude in San Fran who up and left his mansion up for grabs…but get this –

The kid Gar, coaxed Dick to whisper up into his ear, the writer's eyes widening at what he had to find.

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"So, Timmy. Kid said that in San Francisco there is a manor on a hill by Jump, a city close by that has a secret it holds…. I'm going right away by sun –

"Dick! Are you forgetting the deadline?" Tim leaned over the desk at his colleague, more like an upperclassman as the dark haired, green eyes twenty-two-year-old did not agree that rumors were meant to be followed for a quick cash grab. "It sounds like a prank, or worse. You have to reconsider; Wharlton will gun you down –

"Yeah, but if I grab him the real Haunting in the North of California?" Dick teased the idea, thinking up a new title as his eyes shone back eager, so very to get started. "The widow of the man who lived there said that I am welcome to investigate for one night, after that….no more. She's going to leave the house to an auction and will be out for a few days. She told me that the butler will be there to keep this story from falling short of a few spectators."

"Ah, are you sure you should be announcing what you do yet?" Tim put a hand to his temples. Dick was one for the spotlight, but he could be too inflated with that ego at times. Especially if it meant having his way in someone's manor. "You're bringing innocents into a possible haunting! How can it be real when –

" Ehen… Two years ago the inhabitants of the home experienced a violent poltergeist incident and were reluctant to stay. The only person it could be would have been Colonel Slade Williams, a decorated war hero who was said to have died inside the home in his sleep. Maybe he's trying to connect to his loved ones, but that means he needs clearance. Timmy, you'll be going with me –

"Wah – Dick! I'm not as brave as you, I write at my desk and finish my damn work. That's all I'm good for." The younger male looked ready to stomp his feet and move on, yet Dick was a persuasive sort of artist and so…

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They stood by twilight looking up at the manor on the hill, equipment on their ends quite bulky but useful in catching this spectral entity off guard and sending it to the great beyond in peace.

"Ready, Timbo?"

"Yeah, and so is the other resident that wants us to back off at all costs." Tim deadpanned to Dick, who'd already become too obsessed to turn back on seeing a real ghost through to the afterlife it maybe craved to find.

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"Welcome!" Strikingly platinum blonde Rosalie Williams looked to be about twelve years old and was right beside her blonde as an angel and quiet…. half-brother Joe, about the same age and her other brother Braiden. The dark-haired boy looked to be about sixteen and rather moody in his hoodie, as the teen didn't look happy to have company after his mother had been through so much with the investors of his deceased father's company. (Grant.)

Anna Lynn Williams the widow that Dick had spoken to on the line the other day looked sunken faced beside the cheery bunch. Tim immediately tried to defuse a possible collapse in their arrangement. "I'm so sorry for us taking your time, it would be best if we sat and went over the guidelines here. "Right, D?"

"Y- yeah…" Dick rubbed his neck sheepishly as the younger two, Rosalie and Joe scooted off to go play in the next room.

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"I see, so you've been through a lot since his initial passing." Dick was able to meet the butler's face. Will Winterford (Green.) The man was also in debt to the Williams family for a couple generations. Similar to how Dick's father in Gotham NY was…. with his own set of dark histories dating a ways back.

"As for the interview, I'd like to start out with how long this had been going on. When you first noticed…. any changes in the house." Joe clung to his mother as she patted his head gently. "I've sorry. Joe lost the man later in life and he was born mute." Dick and Tim felt those waves of regret crash down, yet Dick was not to be deterred. "I'm sure he is still a smart, intelligent and kind person. A voice is a curse too, to talk too much you can miss out on a lot. Like you have a super power!" Dick grinned as Joe seemed to calm down, taken by the fact as Braiden groaned in the corner. "It's not all about you, Joey. This guy is doing a "paying" job, so stop acting like the victim –

"Hey!" Rosalie flipped a switch and whacked the teen on the crown of his head, the boy not bright enough to his other people. "Sorry for my brother, he can be a doofus at times."

"Rosalie, sit down if you please." Anna Lynn was not a fan of their rough housing, yet Tim made sure to pause the recorder in case things became an issue. Rosalie patted down her white top and skirt with a few whaps.

"It's fine, we have the tech to pull this off no sweat. So, tell us how you came to the conclusion that you might be…visited if you had stayed in the manor at night."

"Not only at night, it might vary depending on his mood." Anna Lynn told the artists with a sigh. "He's a territorial man, his time in the army did that. I was after all his teacher in combat operations."

"You don't say…is he still afraid to move on, you think? How did he pass, was it of natural –

"Dick?" Tim nudged the man to hold his horses. "I'm sorry, but how long did you both live in this house. It must be very old by the looks of the architecture."

"Not so. It was from my family, the early nine - teen hundreds. Nineteen seventeen, I believe my Great Grandmother passed in the room you'll be staying in."

"Say…. Did you harass this poor woman to board us up?" Tim turned off the recorder a minute to catch his breath. "Um, how are we supposed to document a haunting without a paranormal hot spot?" Dick grinned at his co-captain of this miserable squad. "I've already had the beds divided so you won't be in just one. In those days it was quite common so I'd hate for you to be lost in the manor around the dead of night. It's an inconvenience for Will." She told the duo. "Would you like to stay for supper as well?" Her eyes shone back with the intent that they were still not as welcomed as far as Tim could tell, yet Dick was tempted with the promise of a free meal. His one other weakness besides tall women and his pitty puppy back in NY.

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Dick's gear was state of the line in ghost capture of images; even balls of light, orbs of energy as the big - wig scientists glad assumed for far too long. This was it. They were set up in the room of the once to- do wife of the Kane family, which turned out to have a rich secondary history with the Wayne family that had adopted Dick. He'd renamed his last name because of his father's association with a cult of nefarious stories in Gotham. The Owls or something like that…so, he'd swapped it legally to Grey, believing that a single change could do a world of good. Tim Drew as he was sometimes compared to the whiz kid from the Marcus Drew (copyright) series, was a science nerd to the ultra – max. His studies on the paranormal were well versed and he'd also thrown away a physics degree to Yale. Both lived on take out, yet Tim forced real food into them whenever the drawbacks didn't cut into their monthly affairs with the duo's publisher. The magazine was just a side perk, Dick had written a book or two but his decision to relight that fire still made Tim anxious anyway.

"Maybe we should scour the place, do some camera work and set up –

"We will, but first I need you to do me a little favor before dinner." Dick smirked at Tim as the younger adult thought it no more possible to be selling his soul to a human than to a devil. "Go ahead. Fine, but I'm not going into the air ducts like the museum at South Side Court's Country Club and Exclusive Day Resort."

"That trip was a hack, and they had rats." Dick scrunched his nose and remembered for sure that the owner was afraid of losing members to his country club. He shouldn't have been so reluctant to hire an exterminator five years ago, minus the dead rat corpses in the walls.

"Hell, Louisiana was fun, but this could be gold Tim! Do this thing for me, and I promise we can get back to B in Gotham for sure. I'll even stay for tea time with Alf."

"As you say." Tim shook his head, camera and strap in place as he wove through the doorway to the dining room to get them set up. Alf was the butler and old friend to the Waynes going back a decade or so. He was as attentive as a watchdog and more, plus he made great cookies.

B was, Bruce (not changing it.) His adoptive parent as Dick looked over the room. A mirror above the dresser caught his eye and to that, a tap at the door as Tim was there with Will. "Dinner is nearly ready for you, sirs." Tim and Richard looked at one another and swallowed in unison. "Here we come, ready to see some fireworks, Timbo?"

"All covered, boss." Tim gave his colleague a thumb's up.

/

The spread was nicer than anything the two had starved for in a long time. Dick recalled his time in Wayne Manor and trying to work out for hours every day just to deserve what he was being fed. Tim was naturally built to eat like a cow and burned off a lot more than Dick had in his youth. Even if he had the acrobatic heritage from an early age.

"Eat, you must be famished. Miss Anna Lynn?" Will turned to pour an amber drink of red wine into her cup. "Would you prefer if I were to educate these two young gentlemen."

"Not at all, but allow me to first…" She swirled her wine and took a sip once the flavor was to her liking. "My husband was a man of such gusto, and at times in secret he did…things that could go against a man's nature. You'll have to excuse me; your recorder may not be used for this part. It is CIA confidential at this point. Just ask that billionaire father of yours." She took a second sip as the candles flickered across the walls. "My children don't need to know, but they are aware that he traveled and saw things that none of us could come to cope with. Mr. Gray. Mr. Drew….my husband was a mercenary for a group that was making trouble for other defenseless nations right under our noses…his…Blood money saved our marriage ….!" She hit the table, wine spilling as neither ended up trying a bite of food until Will had given the Madame a tissue from his side.

"I'm very sorry, but his death was what had happened due to his impossible ego. He chose to go down a path that nearly took his life…. they said he was in a coma for months until we found he was just…gone. So, the ghost you see could be that man's consciousness that can't live here anymore, though won't go. Because of him!" She swallowed the rest of her glass with an impressive swig.

Dick looked to Tim, who was busy poking his roasted baby spuds and roasted artichoke in white wine sauce with sundried tomatoes mixed in a delicate and handmade pasta. Simple, yet elegant. (two of my fav combos.)

"Again, maybe it would be wise not to look into this." Tim bit his lip, seeing Dick's hand tense up at the other's careful words. "It's painful. We're not helping anybody."

"Yes, we can try. He was as much as monster in real life as he is now. Trying to take over a home that you used to love –

Will made a hand motion for his guest to quit talking. Tim looked at how Anna Lynn had gone ghastly pale. Her wine spilling as the glass shattered, the candles flickering as she got up and gasped angrily while pointing a long finger at Dick. "Y – You made him upset…. I…. I warned you! He was my husband; I loved that man! That's not true…please…. they won't talk about you like that…."

Dick saw the candles stop, the glass no longer vibrating as Tim made sure to get it all on film. "That was…" He cut to exit. Anna Lynn put her head in her hands and Will was there. His eyes as sharp as blades at the two. "You were allowed into our home to see to the release of a trapped apparition. Not to berate the Williams' head of household with such a tone. Go, up. If you want your story then only tonight." The man warned them as Anna Lynn wept into the man's chest. "The madam saw parts of his personality that most would call hopeless in correcting. I suggest you focus on your work and not the nit picking of our home. No matter how broken it seems, you two know so very little."

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Dick paced their room, thinking that maybe one of the other rooms wasn't a hotspot but the entire place. He got ready with the recorder after supper. The cameras in place and his detector now at full power. "We'll do more than have a sendoff for the man that was living here as a dictator to his family – and a killer? Hired by the CIA??"

"Well, Wayne is no picnic either under his significant amount of scandals. What did you expect?" Tim put up his arms and shrugged. "I told you to do your research, but did you give that a look? No?"

"Shut up, we're in this and I'm not leaving without getting my book out on to those shelves."

Tim blinked, scoffing at the criticism of his side purpose. "Oh?? Wow, so this is all about you want for a brand-new soft cover for some murder mystery BULL SHIT. You don't want the scoop; you want everything you can drag out of Ms. Kane!" Tim threw up his hands and paced a bit, his restless energy not received as well as he'd guessed of the cattiest in their dynamic duo.

"I want to know, I want to write their story and maybe, just maybe." Dick stuck his finger to the wind. "I can free a damned ghost from being in limbo!"

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Night fell, the rest of the house residents save for Will, had left to allow the team of ghost lovers to converse with the dead and departed. "Five years, for five years she's had to put up with the mourning..." Dick spoke to the recorder as Tim held up the lens in the direction of the main bedroom. "Here, the walls are not so hollow but the paint has a dampness to it. Ah, is it chilly in here?" Tim turned to check the dial in the madame's room. "Sixty-five. We are doing this in autumn; how high should it go?"

"Old pipes, but well maintained…we're walking. Bring the camera."

Next was the drawing room, a few rooms over. Seconds passed and no sign of a single gust of wind.

"He's toying with us…" Tim's teeth chattered as the air grew even colder – even at sixty-five degrees.

"Dial could be out of order, don't bother." Dick's lips quirked up into a knowing grin. "Tim, we have a plan B. Study."

The study was covered in tarps and draped in dust. The man of the house being gone, the rifle or ink pen remained useless. Even the computer was a bit dated. "This is the place." Dick held the detector and smiled. "Tim! Point your camera to the desk. Hurry!"

Dick's logic was that the readings would get them their ghost, this was the time to –

A rattle as the door swung open with the force of a hurricane wind.

"Tim!!"

"I got it! What's –

"DICK~!

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