Intermission: Vlad

"Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense and have that nonsense respected" - Charles Lamb

Hutch Blairman and I met a few short weeks after the accident that made me a halfa. More accurately, it was about a week after I first changed forms and destroyed my room at the hospital in a fit of panic.

I knew the ecto-acne killed me. I could feel it, if only subconsciously. So, when I woke up that fateful morning with glowing skin, some part of me knew that I was a ghost. I had run to the bathroom mirror and stared at my new face in horror. My skin was pale and sickly. My hair had become a shimmery blue. The dark blue of my irises was replaced with a vibrant red, and my pupils had disappeared entirely. I was still in my hospital gown, but it had gone from a pale blue to a stark white. Much later on, I learned that when a person becomes a spirit, their new form feels so natural that they barely notice the difference.

That didn't happen with me. Perhaps because my heart was still beating, though I didn't know it at the time. Oh, I would come to accept and even enjoy my ghost powers, but for now, I was something…other. Something that should only exist in horror movies.

And, speaking of movies…

Because I knew I couldn't go back to the hospital and I couldn't go home or back to college or really anywhere, I had essentially become a nomad. I also started experimenting with my new abilities in an attempt to gain control of them. Intangibility was the hardest, though flying came rather easily. As someone who was terrified of heights, I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

I was outside of some town, trying to stay invisible while forcing myself to fly, when I saw him. A man in a black trench coat and a feather boa that could stop traffic. But, what really caught my attention was his skin, which was light blue and glowing. I became excited and also nervous. Was this man like me? More importantly, was he friendly?

I took a risk and approached. The man didn't notice me right away, too focused on setting up his film reel camera. When he finally noticed me, I was relieved that his greeting wasn't one of malice. "Oh, hello." The man lowered his sunglasses and scanned me up and down with neon-yellow eyes. "Might I assume you're here for an autograph?"

"I beg your pardon?" I said, taken back.

The man pursed his lips at me then hummed a laugh. "My name is Hutch Blairman. Now, would you like an autograph?"

Unfortunately for him, I was drawing a blank. "Should I know that name?"

Hutch squinted long enough for me to ponder fleeing. Then, "Well, you're a ghost, so I assume you've at least heard of my work."

That tone drew out my temper. I crossed my arms. "Well, pardon me for having been alive a week ago!" The admission sent a shiver up my spine, but I wouldn't let my discomfort show.

Hutch's eyes widened. "You're new! Do forgive me. I hadn't realized. Oh!" He clapped the tips of his fingers together and did a little shimmy. "This is much more exciting than filming the local wildlife!"

This guy was starting to rub me the wrong way, but I didn't have anyone else to talk to about this. "So, might I assume that you are also a…ghost?" The word still felt wrong on my tongue.

"Ever since the spotlight accident! At least, I think it was an accident." He said that far too cheerfully. "But, where are my manners? You know my name. What might I call you, my newly deceased friend?"

I flinched. "Certainly not that. My name is Vlad Masters."

Hutch tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Is that your living name? It's a lovely name," he added when I scowled. "But, here's your first lesson on ghost culture. Many of us change our names after death to fit our new lives. Butch Hart is also a lovely name, but once I died, I craved something with a little more flair."

My mouth fell open. "You…you're the ghost of Butch Hart? The famous movie director?"

Hutch threw his fist in the air. "Ha ha! Now we're getting somewhere!" He held out his hand. "Allow me to personally welcome you to the wonderful world of ghosts. Always happy to shake hands with a fan," he added with a wink.

Admittedly, I did rather like his work. I shook his hand, soothed by the fact that this ghost turned out to be a friendly one, if a bit egotistical. I was about to say something when a wave of terrible heat formed around my waist. It took only a moment for it to spread up and down my body. My first thought was that Hutch had done something to me and I was a fool for letting my guard down.

But, Hutch blinked at me in surprise and, still clutching my hand, commented, "Ah, I see you can shapeshift. That'll come in handy if you plan on spending a lot of time here on Earth."

I barely heard him. I was too busy feeling the new sensation in my chest. A sensation that wasn't new at all.

I was breathing. For the first time in a week, I was breathing.

Hutch noticed this as well. With a curious expression, he pressed two fingers to the pressure point on my wrist and waited. I, too, waited. Waited for him to say that something was there.

He reared back with a dramatic gasp and slapped his hand on his chest. "You're a halfa! Oh, be calm, my raging core! I thought your kind were a myth! Like the tooth fairy and the platypus!"

I had so many questions, yet for some reason, the thing that came out of my mouth was, "Um, platypuses are real."

"They are?"

Before I knew it, I had made my first ghost friend.

"I still think this is your worst movie idea yet," I say as Hutch sets up his camera. We are at his set - if you can call two trailers sitting outside the forest a set - and I am seated in a chair across from him, waiting for my close-up. "No, wait. Axis Oasis. That was your worst. It didn't even have a plot!"

Hutch waves off my criticism. "Oh, sometimes you just need to experiment. And anyway, if you're so against my documentary, why are you helping me?"

Because, Daniel needs to come to his senses. That boy won't give up on his silly quest for equality until someone dumps a cold bucket of reality on his head.

"It's as you said," I respond with a shrug. "Sometimes you just need to experiment. Speaking of, are you sure the setting didn't work? I may not be able to use Compulsion myself, but I've seen it in action. The effects are quite subtle unless the target tries to power through it." At least among ghosts. When Hutch complained that the Compulsion setting wasn't working, my first thought was that Daniel's human-half was dulling the effects.

"Trust me, Vlad. That boy was lying through his teeth. He even spouted some sappy line about still feeling like a human."

Hutch doesn't know that I'm not the only halfa in the world. It's an unspoken rule between Daniel and myself: I won't tell if you won't.

"Well," I say, "let's see if my modifications work a little better for you."

Hutch grins. "Oh, they already have. I was reviewing some footage I took earlier and caught Phantom talking to his mother."

His mother? But, how would Hutch know-

"At first I was confused since the woman looked human. Then I realized she was a ghost in a human disguise!" I want to ask what he's talking about, but he delicately places the back of his hand on his forehead in a swoon. He's in his own little world again. "And, what a disguise! That flawless brown skin, that luscious hair! And, don't get me started on that figure! Oh, I may faint!"

Sometimes, Hutch's tangents are amusing. At times like this, they are a nuisance. When he starts going on about how he just has to see her true form, I intervene. "Hutch, how do you know this woman is Daniel's mother?" Because while the rest of that description is accurate, Maddie is white.

Hutch scratches under his hat with a thoughtful expression. "You know, it's the most peculiar thing. The footage shows him calling her 'Mama.'" I straighten at that. "The onlookers started talking about it, but that woman told them he'd said 'Ms. Mae,' and they just believed her. But, here's the peculiar part. I was right there when it happened, but I have no memory of the event whatsoever. I suspect Compulsion."

The gears turn in my head. I recall Maddie and Jack lamenting about their son's adamant defense of a ghost who had started teaching at Casper High. Curiosity prompted me to do a little spy-work to see if she could be useful in any way. Then, I discovered that she could use Compulsion. It's amazing what you can do with just a smidgen of one's DNA, and a few strands of hair are easy enough to obtain.

I fold my hands in front of me. "I believe the woman in question might be one who assisted me with your cameras."

"Oh, fun!" Hutch says, clapping his hands like an eager schoolgirl. He pulls a pen and notepad out of his coat. "I'll have to give her credit in the movie. Is 'Ms. Mae' her real name?"

"Her name is Eileen, though I'm not sure about her last name."

"I'll just put down 'Eileen Mae.'" He jots that down then puts his things back in his coat.

Before he begins filming, I have one more question. "Are you absolutely certain that Daniel referred to her as 'Mama?' Because I know for a fact that his human-mother is alive and well."

Hutch scoffs good-naturedly. "Is it so unbelievable? Imprinting happens."

Imprinting. Of course. I tuck the information away for later.

Hutch moves to start the camera but hesitates. "Are you sure you want me to test the modifications on you?"

"The best way for me to see if they work properly is to feel the effects myself." To see if they work on halfas.

"Very well." Hutch starts up the camera, and we begin our session. Whether or not any of this will make it into the documentary is up in the air. But, as Daniel's "arch enemy," I suppose my appearance would make sense. Even if that's not what Hutch is really using it for. "Tell us, Mr. Plasmius, how long have you known Danny Phantom?"

When a ghost is being compelled, they feel the slightest tickle at the base of their skull that gets worse the more they try to resist. That feeling is absent, which hopefully means my modifications are working. A more subtle Compulsion so that young Daniel doesn't get any more suspicious than I'm sure he already is.

"About two years," I answer.

"And, what is your opinion of the boy? How would you best describe him?"

I take a moment to formulate my response. "He has a good core but tends to get lost in his own head." That sums it up nicely.

"Can you elaborate on that?"

"Certainly. Daniel is easily swayed by his feelings and the things that trigger them. When he gets an idea, nothing will stop him from pursuing it. Not unlike a certain someone," I add with a playful smirk.

Hutch giggles and presses his thumb to his chest. "Guilty as charged. Although, I fear the pot may be calling the kettle black."

I raise my hands in surrender. "What can I say? But, this isn't about me."

"It is to an extent," Hutch counters. "Now, I understand that you and Phantom have been at each other's throats for some time. What's the story there?"

This question is a good test. I still don't feel any strange itch or pain, but the words fly out of me. "If it were up to me, there would be a very different story to tell. I met Daniel presumably a short time after his passing. He was only fourteen and anyone could see that he had no idea what he was doing. I offered my mentorship to him, but he refused. And, he continues to do so to this day. Somewhere along the way, I became an enemy to him. I haven't given up on him, but I saw that animosity as a way of making him see the light."

"How so?" Hutch asks, enthralled in this story I can't stop myself from telling.

"One thing I've learned about Daniel is that, when faced with a problem he can't punch, he goes on high alert. So, I focus on that. I create scenarios that play with his mind, slowly chipping away at his stubbornness. My goal is to break it down entirely so that he is free to realize that I am the only one who can possibly guide him through his afterlife."

Hutch strokes the beard he doesn't have. "Very interesting. But, why does it have to be you?" His question sounds genuine, not like he'd planned it for the movie. "Surely, any other ghost would suit that role just fine. I mean, the boy's already imprinted on someone. Why not her? Why do you have to be the one to guide him?"

I clamp my lips shut against the words rising in my throat. He's a halfa like me, I desperately want to say. He's being raised by two ghost hunters, one of whom is Jack Fenton. And, Daniel hasn't even begun the transition to-

I slump over and throw my hands over my head as fire rakes through my brain and a low moan or maybe a scream falls out of me. Don't tell him. Don't say the words.

My god, this hurts!

"Vlad! Vlad!"

The pain vanishes as quickly as it appeared. Shaking, I slowly raise my head to find Hutch knelt down in front of me, taking my shoulders with a panicked expression. "Vlad, are you alright?"

"It works," I pant. "Oh, sandwich cookies, does it ever work!"

"But, you're…okay?" he asks, relaxing his grip but not letting go. It's a strangely intimate scene, though my core reacts pleasantly to his concern.

Slowly, I sit upright and blink dots out of my vision, and Hutch releases me. "The pain is already gone," I say. "But, rest assured that if I could barely resist, Daniel doesn't stand a chance." Unless he tries too hard and ends up with that same agony. Then, the jig would be up. But, I doubt he's strong enough to do anything but babble out the truth.

Hutch looks like he has a mountain of questions, but he stands up and states, "I think we're done here. I won't risk you getting hurt again."

"If you insist," I concede, rising from my seat. Frankly, I don't want to risk that again, either. "But, let me remind you that, while Daniel is ignorant at times, he isn't stupid. There's a good chance that he's already suspicious of you, and pain like that will be the nail in the coffin."

Hutch gives me a tolerant smile and pats my cheek. If anyone else touched me like that, they would find themselves face-down on the ground. But, I've grown used to Hutch's touchy-feely nature. I had too. He was the only friend I had when I first got my powers. "You worry too much," he assures. "I've been in the film business a long time, even before that spotlight fell on me. I've worked with all kinds of personalities. And, I've learned how to work all kinds of personalities. Which reminds me. How is our little automobile enthusiast doing?"

I mentally check my duplicate's memories. It stood there, recording the interaction outside of Casper High, just as I'd commanded it to. One thing about Hutch's cameras is that anytime they are recording, the video goes straight to Hutch's computers, even if the camera is damaged. Useful when recording someone as unpredictable as Daniel.

Shortly before my duplicate disappeared, a tow truck was prepped to haul the convertible away. Such a waste of a perfectly nice vehicle, but I'm sure someone will get it fixed up. That blob-ghost - never did catch his name - was looking down in shame and embarrassment. Beside him, Paulina Sanchez talked to the tow truck driver. Two others - Dash Baxter and a green girl I've never seen before - stood by and watched it all go down. Everyone was too preoccupied to notice my duplicate.

Everyone but Daniel, who didn't call attention to it but had been sneaking it the occasional dirty look since he first saw it.

"I fear there won't be anything particularly interesting for you to see," I report.

Hutch deflates slightly but takes it in stride. "Well, you know what they say. You have to crack some eggs to make an omelet. I'm sure I can find something to do with the footage." He looks up. "And, here come my stars now."

I follow his gaze to see his starring cast descend from their flight. Daniel lands a distance away and sets down Dash, with the green girl close behind with Paulina in her arms. Daniel motions for them to wait there before storming up to me. He crosses his arms and if looks could kill, I would be a full-ghost right now. "Quit following me, Plasmius. Don't you know I'm allergic to fruit loops?"

"How am I following you when you arrived after me?" I argue. "Besides, I'm not doing anything nefarious."

Daniel raises an eyebrow. "So, you didn't screw with a new car and overshadow an innocent bystander so that he would give it to another innocent bystander?"

I fight a smirk. "Let's assume that I did do such a thing. What would you do? Tell the police that the big, bad Wisconsin Ghost destroyed the engine of a convertible, took over the body of a dealership owner, and gave that convertible to a sentient blob?"

"Stranger things have happened," Daniel responds.

"Regardless, there's nothing to be done about it. Assuming I did commit such an act, of course."

A low growl rumbles in Daniel's throat, and his neon-green eyes glow brighter. He opens his mouth, but it's the green girl who speaks. "Uh, Danny? Is everything okay over there?"

"We're fine," Hutch says dismissively. I hadn't noticed him rush over to his camera. "Things couldn't be better!" When Daniel and I glare at him, he raises his head sheepishly. "Oh, should I not be recording this?"

I love that man, but once Obsession strikes, he is insufferable.

Daniel jerks his thumb toward the forest. "Let's continue this conversation in private."

I bid my goodbye to Hutch and follow Daniel into the forest, deep enough that no one but the woodland creatures will hear us. The trees are dappled with reds and golds, the leaves falling in droves, though there are a lot of bare spots in those branches. Winter comes early around here. We should be seeing our first snowfall very soon. For Dash and Paulina's sakes - Daniel, being half-ghost and possessing Cryokinesis on top of it, should be as unaffected by the cold as I - I hope Hutch plans on filming indoors in the coming days.

Daniel whirls on me, his eyes still glowing like flashlights and his teeth bared. I wonder if he'll develop fangs like I did or if all of his teeth will become sharp and pointed. Not all ghosts have teeth that cannot be described as human-like, but you never know.

"Start talking," Daniel snarls. "I know you and Blairman are working together. You may as well come clean on what this is really about, because I'm going to figure it out one way or another."

Always so suspicious. Looking back, I suppose I am partly to blame. But, it will all be worth it once the boy realizes that he's in over his head. I am nothing if not patient. And recently, I have been seeing the cracks in his armor. We'll get there.

But, in the meantime…

I raise my hands placatingly. "As I've stated, it's nothing nefarious. Hutch is an old friend, and I'm simply assisting him with his endeavor. An endeavor which," I add when Daniel opens his mouth, "I advised him against pursuing."

Daniel gives me a disbelieving yet questioning squint.

"I'm serious, Daniel. When Hutch bounced the idea off of me, I told him that you don't crave fame and you would be watching his every move, waiting for him to do something that warranted being sucked into a Thermos and thrust into the Ghost Zone," I punctuate this with a meaningful glare. It's very fortunate that I knew where I was and how to get back to my own Portal from there.

As anticipated, Daniel offers no apology. "You think I'm that paranoid, do you?"

"And, you think Hutch is that oblivious?" I fold my hands behind my back and step forward until I am towering over the boy. "He sees the way you look at him, hears the way you speak to him, and it hurts him." It's a lie. Hutch couldn't care less about what Daniel thinks of him. But, Hutch isn't the only one who knows how to work a personality, and I didn't miss that quick flash of guilt in Daniel's eyes. "Hutch is a good actor, but he is more sensitive than he appears. You may not be aware of this, Daniel, but taunts and scorn can be far more painful than punches and kicks. Remember that when dealing with him."

I don't need to tell Daniel that. I know he gets bullied in school, and I know those bullies are the ones he is working with on the documentary. But, my words hit their mark. Though his scowl remains, his hands are shaking fists at his sides. I have to wonder what's going through his head.

Finally, Daniel sighs through his nose. "I'll mark that down in my little notebook," he says, miming holding a pad and writing something. He raises his hand and asks with faux-innocence, "May I be excused now, Mr. Plasmius?"

I roll my eyes at his antics and step aside, gesturing for him to head back to his group. Those antics spark a memory, and maybe I'm being petty, but I'm going to mention it anyway.

"One more thing," I say. Daniel turns halfway around and gives me a long-suffering look. "I have a request regarding this 'Ms. Mae' of yours."

He hesitates a moment too long before claiming, "I don't know who that is."

I decide to play along. "Well, if you ever meet her, ask her about your Imprinting and see how she reacts."

Daniel shows no indication of whether or not he knows what I'm talking about. He just shakes his head and mutters, "Bastard," before sauntering away.