Chapter Eleven: A Past That Cannot Die
Sam wiped a smudge of eyeliner away from under her eye, swearing under her breath. After hours of staring into the hotel mirror and carefully applying her makeup and doing her hair, it would be catastrophic to mess up her work now. She felt bad for hogging the bathroom, but she had a tendency to go overboard with preparation whenever she was nervous. Usually she wasn't one to care that much about her appearance, but the idea of a single hair being out of place tonight was enough to send her thoughts racing.
Satisfied that the crisis had been averted, she delicately began the infuriating process of applying false eyelashes. This was by far her least favorite part of doing a full face of makeup. The glue was annoying and the stupid lashes were uncomfortable, feeling like little caterpillars on her eyelids.
"Shit!" She hissed, dropping one into the sink. Whatever, she had plenty of backups.
"Are you okay in there?" Danny called through the door. "I've never heard someone cuss this much in my life."
"Just peachy keen!" Sam said, focusing on attempt number two. Peachy keen, what a phrase. She had picked that one up from Aubrey, but when it came out of her own mouth it sounded less like a southern belle and more like a curse. There, the stupid eyelash was finally in place.
She stepped back to assess herself. She had toned down the goth thing for tonight, so she felt a little silly without the black lipstick and heavy eye makeup. She even had rosy cheeks, a big change from her usual pale face. But she looked nice enough, certainly like she had been getting ready for hours. Sam reached for her dress where it was hanging by the door, slipping into it. The black silk was simple, but beautiful. Under the light the color shifted subtly, pearlescent like an oil slick. Sam held the sleeveless dress against her chest with one hand, and opened the door.
"Danny, can you help me zip up?" She asked, poking her head out. Danny nodded, rising from the armchair by the windows. He was already in his tux, clearly dying of boredom while patiently waiting for her to finish. His eyes widened a little, sweeping up and down her body.
"Sure." He said, recovering quickly and walking towards her. Sam stepped out, turning around for him. His cold hand brushed across her shoulder blades, pinching the fabric at the top while his other hand tugged on the zipper. Dress secured in place, she turned around to grab his undone bow tie.
"Did you need help with this?" She asked teasingly.
"Yes." He said pleadingly. She made quick work of the tie, expertly knotting it.
"How do you even know how to do this?" He asked. Sam shrugged, stepping back to examine her work.
"My dad taught me, he said it would be a big help to my future husband one day." Danny blushed a little at that, and Sam bit her cheek. She didn't mean for that to sound like…well, like that. She turned around, sitting on the bed to slip her heels on. She hated these things, if she had been running around in Amity with these she definitely would have died. Too bad her usual clunky boots were definitely not gala-friendly. Danny spun in a circle, clearly trying to locate his own shoes.
"They're on the top shelf of the closet." She told him. He walked to the closet, plucking them off the shelf and quickly lacing them on. "You look really nice." She said, watching him. He held his arms out, flashing an awkward grin.
"Do I look fancy enough?" He asked self-consciously.
"Like a million bucks." She confirmed with a nod.
He looked incredibly handsome in the suit she had picked out. The cut of it made his shoulders look broad and strong and the smokey color made his eyes even brighter than usual. She smiled, admiring his carefully combed hair. She had never seen that ridiculous mop of hair so neat and uniform. A few strands had already managed to escape, but it was holding up otherwise.
"You look beautiful." He said back, a little shyly. "Your dress is very pretty." And with those words, she suddenly felt like she could relax a little. What did it matter how she looked, as long as he thought she looked pretty? No one else's opinion would matter.
"Thank you." She said. "Are you ready to go?" She asked nervously. Danny glanced out the window, his eyes tracking the setting sun.
"Yeah, I guess so." He said. He scooped Sam's clutch off of the dresser, handing it to her. She opened it, double checking that their invitations were safely tucked in amongst its contents.
"Well, let's head down. The car should be here any second now." Vlad Masters had personally arranged a car to take them to the event. His personal assistant had called while they were eating breakfast that morning to inform her. It was overkill in her mind, but she didn't want to offend him by refusing his generosity.
Danny swept behind her, following her out the room and down the hall. His hand found hers and their fingers intertwined. He must have been more anxious than he was letting on, putting up a brave front for her sake. Guilt gnawed at her a little, but she really did think that this would be good for both of them. The elevator dinged and they stepped into it, blissfully alone.
"This Vlad guy isn't going to be in the car, is he?" Danny asked.
"Oh God no, he's probably already at the gala." Sam watched the numbers tick by as the elevator descended.
"He's not expecting you to be by his side all night, is he?" Danny asked, an edge of suspicion to his voice. Sam hid a smile at his over-protectiveness.
"I really doubt it. His type is usually more concerned with talking to donors and the press and all that. Like I said, I'm sure this is just PR for him." The elevator reached the lobby and the doors slid open. Sam swept out of the elevator, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Danny's own steps were silent as ever. She spied a man standing in a pristine uniform, holding a sign that said Manson in silver lettering.
"I guess that's for us." Danny pointed. Sam nodded, tugging him along to their driver.
"Samantha Manson and guest?" The man asked politely.
"Yes." Sam confirmed. The man dipped his head, bowing a little. Oh please, this was definitely too much.
"Mr. Masters sends his regards. Follow me this way." He said. Danny gave her a skeptical look.
"Are you sure we couldn't have just taken a taxi?" He muttered. Sam shrugged helplessly.
"Rich people." She whispered back. They followed after their driver, out the lobby doors and to a sleek black car. He held the doors open for them and they slipped into the seats. The car smelled pristine. He shut the door and Danny eyed the interior with wonder.
"Is that a refrigerator?" He asked in amazement.
"There are bottled waters as well as some champagne, all on the house of course." Their driver piped up, settling behind the seat. "If you need anything, just ask on the intercom."
"Intercom?" Danny whispered to Sam. A divider suddenly popped out, sliding up and separating them from the driver. "Oh."
"Privacy, how nice." Sam commented. She popped the fridge open, grabbing a bottle of water for herself and Danny. He took it from her apprehensively. Sam watched as the buildings and cars around them passed in a blur. It was a short drive, this really was excessive. She got the feeling that this Masters guy liked to impress people. It didn't exactly warm her up to him at all, she had enough experience with the affluent to know better. She never did like the flaunting of wealth.
The ride only lasted for ten minutes, Danny remaining quiet next to her. They quickly rolled up to the beautiful historic museum where the gala was being held. A line of cars was already forming, people stepping out of their expensive vehicles in gorgeous gowns and tuxedos. Press was littered everywhere, photographers snapping photos with their bright flash. The door popped open, their driver gesturing with a flourish.
"Enjoy your night, Miss Manson." He said. Sam nodded, tapping on Danny's hand. He seemed to break out of whatever trance he had been in, gulping. Sam flashed him a reassuring smile. They slid out of the car, standing upright on the pavement.
"Thank you, you enjoy your night as well." Sam said, handing their driver a generous tip. He nodded in appreciation before heading back to his seat.
"There's so many people." Danny said in amazement. "I didn't realize so many people would care." They walked in sync together, starting up the many stairs to the towering doors. Candles and flowers lined the stairs, beautiful and far too close to a vigil or funeral for Sam's tastes.
"I'm sure some of them had family and friends from Amity." Sam said, scanning around the crowds. Most were probably wealthy donors, but every now and then she could see a somber face or quivering lips. When Vlad had reached out to her months ago, he had mentioned something about inviting some family of the deceased.
"People we knew?" Danny asked, looking very distressed by the thought.
"I doubt it." Sam said, already feeling the way her feet were going to be aching tomorrow. So many damn steps. "Probably just those related to prominent people in Amity, like the mayor or whatever. Lancer didn't even get an invite." She said somewhat bitterly. As much as she wanted to believe in the intentions of the man, it did seem elitist to only invite certain people. Danny seemed to relax somewhat, comforted by the fact that they wouldn't run into an uncle or family friend of one of their classmates.
They reached the final step, approaching the row of beautiful doors that were propped open. Security stood by in suits and earpieces while the attendees presented their invitations. Sam plucked her from her purse, presenting it to an usher.
"Welcome, Miss Manson." The woman said with a blindingly white smile, clearly aware of who Sam was. "And your guest." She added with a polite nod to Danny. He gave an awkward smile back, hiding behind Sam as if he didn't tower over her.
"Thank you." Sam said back, sweeping past her and into the main hall.
Sam's attention was suddenly caught by the sound of an argument at another door. She turned around to see the security team speaking to a group of men clad in pristine white suits with sunglasses, despite the fact that it was nighttime. The men looked like agents of some kind, from their obvious earpieces to the outline of what looked like a gun under their suit jackets. They were visibly agitated, intensely arguing with the security guards about something. Security grabbed one by his arm, shoving him towards the steps.
"You cannot do this, we are federal agents." The man growled, reaching for his badge and shoving it in the guard's face. "You will not remove us from the premises." The security guard didn't back down, his grip remained firm on the agent's sleeve. Sam's curiosity was piqued, struggling to watch the argument unfold around the incoming guests. Danny tensed next to her.
"Unless you have a warrant- which you don't- you cannot be here. This is a private event and Mr. Masters has given strict orders about you whack-jobs being not being allowed in." The guard refuted.
"We will call law enforcement if you refuse to leave." The other security guard added. "And we all know just how much the police respect your little agency." He sneered.
The two agents looked livid, but both backed down. The guard reluctantly let go of the first agent, who yanked his arm back with a clear air of annoyance.
"Watch the suit, asshole." He muttered. "Tell your boss that we'll be seeing him soon, if not here then we can secure a warrant for his tacky mansion. This isn't over yet." The agent said. His partner shoved past the security team, shoulder-checking them as they finally left. The guards turned, seeing the small crowd that had gathered around.
"Alright show's over, move along and enjoy the party." One grumbled. The crowd dispersed, not eager to get into trouble with security themselves. Sam and Danny hesitantly moved away, further down the elaborate hall.
"What was that all about?" Sam wondered aloud, sneaking a glance back. The agents were long gone.
"They must have been Guys in White." Danny answered quietly. "I recognize those white suits."
"Guys in White?" Sam echoed. "What the hell is that?" She frowned, realizing the name did sound somewhat familiar for some reason.
"They're some crackpot government agency that investigates paranormal stuff." Danny explained. "My parents had to deal with them sometimes, they hated their guts. Always complained about the trouble they gave them. Luckily no one really takes them seriously. I wonder why they care so much about this gala, though."
Sam wracked her brain, thinking that was odd as well. Why the hell did they care about some charity event?
"Guys in White…" She muttered, mulling the name over. "Guys in White, Guys in…G.I.W." She stopped in her tracks. "Oh! I know them!" She cried out. Danny gave her an odd look.
"Really?" He said. "I always figured only fellow ghost crackpots knew or cared about them." Sam shook her head. Maybe once that was true, but she remembered them very clearly now.
"Well I know them as Ghost Investigations and Weaponry, but they were in the news years ago for wanting to have access to Amity Park after the Disaster." She explained. "They wanted to study the bodies, so they tried to block all the efforts for their removal and return to the families of the victims. Obviously that went down really badly for them, it was a big controversy for a few months." Danny wouldn't have known about that particular media frenzy, having been cut off from the world. He frowned, deep in thought.
"Oh, I guess Guys in White was just my parents' nickname for them." Danny said. "Really? They wanted to study the bodies that badly?" He asked. "I remember when teams came to remove whatever bodies they could after the accident, I always thought it was strange it took so long for people to come recover them."
"Yeah, that was why." Sam said, realizing she had never asked Danny about the details of all the scientists and law enforcement that came in and out of Amity in those early months. He had mentioned seeing people before, but she wondered if he had ever tried to contact them at all. Or did he just simply hide and watch as they dragged out the remains of everyone they had grown up with? He was always so reluctant to talk about his time in Amity, especially those early days.
"Everyone thought it was scummy, the families of the victims were very adamant about their right to get their loved ones back. I wonder why they care about Masters though." Sam wondered aloud. She felt guilty now for not pressing Danny more about those early months. Although, he may have not told her anyway. She wondered how awful it must have been to see people come in and out while he was unable to leave.
"They must be mad that the town is getting demolished, if they had any hope of being allowed in one day to run their tests or collect their samples, it's gone now." Danny speculated as they worked their way to the ballroom. The other guests drifted past them, unaware of the significance of the brief skirmish.
"Although I would have liked to see them try before we shut down the portal. I don't think the town would have liked that." Danny mused.
Sam gave him a curious look.
"Would you have done something about it?" She asked. Danny glanced at her, a spark of anger igniting in his eyes. She recognized that possessiveness, having seen glimpses of it in Amity.
"They wouldn't have been able to put their hands on anything." He said ominously. Sam decided she didn't want to think too much about what that meant, so she said nothing. They walked in silence until they passed through the giant ballroom doors.
"Oh wow." She said, looking around. "Not bad."
The space was huge, with gorgeous marble floors and high columns that went all the way up into the massive domed ceiling. Beautiful lights were hung all over, casting the entire room in an elegant glow. Long tables full of glittering, appetizing foods lined the wall. Waiters were flitting around in black suits, carrying trays of bubbling champagne in crystal glasses. A sizable orchestra played soft, pleasant music which drifted over the chattering voices of the attendees.
"I feel poor." Danny deadpanned, eyeing the expensive decorations and exquisite dresses with a look of dread. "I can't believe you're used to this kind of thing." Sam cringed, still embarrassed about her ridiculous wealth all these years later.
"Yeah…" She said, trailing off. She searched the crowds for her parents, heart beating nervously. She hadn't seen them yet, but maybe they were here, just out of sight. Or maybe they weren't coming and she was delusional for even hoping. "At least there's no one riding in on an elephant or trapeze artists swinging from the ceiling."
"You've seen that before?" Danny asked, glancing around the room with a newfound horror, as if a circus act might appear out of thin air.
"One thing you learn is that having money doesn't exempt you from being gaudy." Sam said. "Some rich folks just need to show off as egregiously as possible. This seems fine, very tasteful." She led the way, Danny drifting behind her with wide eyes. She wanted to ask him more about the GIW, but now wasn't the time. He was looking very overwhelmed by the opulence surrounding them.
Sam felt a little overwhelmed herself, to be honest. Her dress was a little snug in the chest, just short of being uncomfortable. The straps on her heels cut into her ankles. She snatched a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, handing it to Danny.
"Drink up, it helps to have something in your hand at this sort of thing." She suggested. He took it from her, taking a half-hearted sip.
"Oooh! Miss Manson!" A shrill voice called out. Sam whirled around to see a blonde woman in a too-tight white dress awkwardly shuffling towards her. The woman's heels must have been at least six inches tall.
"Hi!" The woman said, sticking a hand out. "I'm Sophia, I work for Mr. Masters. We spoke over the phone this morning. It's so nice to meet you in person. How was the car?"
Sam smiled politely, shaking the woman's hands. She was very high-energy, speaking a mile a minute.
"It was wonderful, thank you for sending it." Sophia's eyes locked onto Danny and her grin grew even wider.
"Oh, is this your guest?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "He's so handsome." She whispered loudly. Sam cringed, feeling Danny's discomfort radiating off of him.
"Yes, this is Danny." Sam said, introducing him. Sophia grabbed Danny's hand, enthusiastically shaking it before he could respond.
"A pleasure." She said, before snapping her attention back to Sam. "Miss Manson, Mr. Masters has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. He's just over there." Sophia pointed a manicured nail, gesturing to the back of a tall man with silver hair.
Sam eyed Danny, not wanting to abandon him so quickly after just getting here. She had hoped they could have a moment to adjust before she had to speak to Vlad.
"He wants to talk right now?" Sam asked, perhaps a bit rudely. Sophia either didn't notice or care about her hesitation, prattling away.
"Yes, he's been waiting all day. I think he would like to take a few photos too, for the paper you know? It will only take a moment, and then I'll let you get back to your hot date." She said with a wink. Sam fought down the urge to get mad at this lady. She was annoying, but she was just trying to do her job. Maybe it was better to get this over with anyway. She hoped it truly did only take a moment.
"I'll be quick. You can walk around, I'll find you when I'm done." She said to Danny, squeezing his hand. His blue eyes were wide, but he didn't try to convince her to stay.
"Okay." He said uneasily. Sam gave his hand one last squeeze, before following after Sophia. The woman weaved through the crowd breezily and Sam struggled to keep up with her. As they approached Vlad, he must have sensed their presence, turning around to greet them.
Vlad Masters was not handsome exactly, but he was stately and elegant looking. His long, silver hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and his beard was well-groomed. His suit was obviously expensive, but also tasteful and not flashy like one might expect of a billionaire. Sam figured he must have been about fifty but looked to be in very good shape for a man of his age. His posture was impeccable.
"Ah, what a great honor it is to finally meet you, Samantha." He smiled, extending a hand. Sam shook it, surprised by how cold it was. Sophia quickly and mercifully left without a word, leaving Sam to talk to this man alone.
"Just Sam is fine." She corrected politely. "And the real honor is that someone as esteemed as yourself took interest in my paper." Sam added, years of her mother 's high society training kicking in.
Vlad waved his hand dismissively, chuckling.
"You don't need to flatter me, dear. I'm just some rich jerk at the end of the day." His grey eyes twinkled with mirth, his smile a touch mischievous. His self-deprecation immediately won some points with her. "And anyway, I've had a keen interest in the Amity Park situation for years."
"Really?" Sam asked, curiosity piqued. "Aren't you from Wisconsin?" She asked, already knowing the answer. She had looked the man up the second he had contacted her about her paper. Apparently he was a huge cheesehead and had unsuccessfully tried to buy the Green Bay Packers a number of times. She tried to imagine this polished and esteemed man doing something so kooky. It was difficult, to say the least.
"I am." Vlad answered immediately. "But I went to school in Illinois." That was true too, Sam remembered reading that he had graduated from business school in Chicago.
"DePaul?" Sam asked automatically, wincing as she realized her faux pas. 'Stupid,' she thought to herself. His eyes lit immediately with understanding.
"Ahh, so you've done your research, clever girl." He said good-naturedly. "Don't worry, I understand completely. And yes, I did attend DePaul, and before that I went to the University of Illinois Chicago."
"Really? I didn't know that," Sam said.
"Ah, well I didn't finish my schooling there due to some health problems at the time. I ended up changing career interests anyway." he waved a hand impassively. She decided not to pry about his health, thinking that would be rude.
"What were you studying originally?" Sam asked instead, interested in this new information.
"Biology." He answered, picking at a non-existent stain on his jacket. "My real interest though was ecto-biology, but that was obviously fringe at the time. So any research I did in that field was merely my own passion project. That's how I met the Fentons, you know."
Sam's heart stopped at the words.
"You knew the Fentons?" She asked, bewildered. She hadn't expected this. He nodded, taking a sip from his champagne.
"Yes. They were strange to be sure, but my impression was that they were far more brilliant than their peers and professors ever gave them credit for. Especially Maddie."
"Is that why you're so interested in Amity?" Sam asked. That made a lot of sense, if he had known the Fentons once. It made sense why he'd be so hostile to the GIW as well, clearly his experience with them went back before just this gala.
"Yes, of course what happened to your town was a horrible tragedy. But as you know, no one can afford to be so invested in every single tragedy that happens throughout the years. But I feel I owe it to my former colleagues to help…clean up their legacy." He said, tactfully not stating the obvious truth that they had been blamed for the accident for years.
Sam, being an activist with a bleeding heart, disagreed somewhat with this sentiment. If you have the means, then you should care deeply about many issues. But she supposed it was still a noble goal to help redeem his former classmates' reputations.
"Were you close with them?" Sam asked, trying to parse out what his relationship to them had been exactly. Danny had never mentioned Vlad, he clearly didn't know anything about the man.
Vlad's face became sad, his age more obvious in that moment.
"Once perhaps. But I hadn't talked to them in many, many years before their deaths." He said. "It's one of my greatest regrets that we never reconnected before then."
This moved Sam, and she felt her heart soften towards him. She had never thought he'd have such personal feelings about Amity or the Fentons.
"Truthfully." Sam began. "I'm surprised that you miss them so much. They're not exactly remembered very fondly." It was strange to meet someone with such positive things to say about the Fentons; even Lancer seemed uncomfortable when Sam brought them up.
Vlad looked distant for a moment, lost in some kind of memory.
"Everyone makes mistakes. Sometimes horrible, terrible mistakes. But no one deserves to be defined by their worst moments." He said.
Sam was surprised by this man. He was not what she had expected at all. Her faith in this project and his intentions had grown significantly during the conversation. He really seemed to care about Amity Park.
"Mr. Masters, I have to admit I was ready to dislike you." Sam said sheepishly, glancing down and tracing the rim of her champagne glass. Perhaps it wasn't wise to admit this to the man single-handedly funding Amity's demolition, but she trusted that he would respect her honesty. "I've been around a lot of so-called philanthropists, and most of them have just been men with too much money making empty promises out of boredom."
"And I'm not?" He asked slyly. Sam shook her head, meeting his eyes.
"I don't think you are," She said sincerely. Vlad studied her for a long moment.
"It was a very well-written paper, Sam." He said at long last. "That is not flattery. It really did move me." Sam was speechless at this praise, not knowing how to respond. She had published her paper mostly for herself, but the thought that it had genuinely moved someone was beyond her. Especially this powerful man who had a real, tangible ability to make a difference.
Before she could reply, Sam spied Danny booking it towards her. Her friend looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. She felt bad for leaving his side for so long and so soon after arriving. He obviously had held out for as long as he could.
"Oh, Mr. Masters- this is my friend Danny." Sam introduced, gesturing to him as he approached. "He's my plus one tonight." She said, smiling. She hoped that the man didn't mind their conversation being put on hold.
Vlad politely smiled at Danny, though Sam could see some annoyance in his eyes at the interruption. Danny reached Sam's side, seemingly just noticing the older man.
"Oh hello." He said awkwardly, clearly at a loss of what he was expected to say. He didn't even make eye contact with the older man. Sam nudged Danny's arm.
"Danny, this is Vlad Masters. The man who's funding Amity's demolition." She said, saving him from the embarrassment of introductions.
Danny looked between the two of them nervously, and Sam decided that this conversation with Vlad needed to come to an end for now. It might be rude, but she didn't want to be roped into more introductions or press opportunities. The photos could wait or just not happen at all. She was somewhat disappointed, hoping to unravel the mystery that was Vlad Masters just a bit more.
"Well, Mr. Masters, it was great getting to meet you." She cut in. She wrapped a hand around Danny's arm, beginning to pull him away. Vlad hummed in agreement.
"I hope to talk again soon, Miss Manson."' He said. Before Sam could pull Danny away, she was surprised when he turned around and spoke up.
"Thank you." Danny said firmly, meeting the older man's eyes for the first time. "I think that what you're doing is good." Danny's eyes were shining, clear and sincere. Sam felt her heart melt just a bit at his vulnerability, especially since he had been so reluctant to come.
She watched as Vlad looked taken aback by the comment, before his face went white as a sheet of paper. His hands tightened around his champagne flute and Sam was afraid for a moment that the fragile stem would snap in his grip.
"Mr. Masters?" She asked hesitantly, stepping forward in alarm. His eyes were wide and fearful, as if he had seen a ghost. Sweat was beading on his forehead. Sam realized with a start that it was Danny that Vlad was staring at with fear.
"I must excuse myself. I apologize." Vlad stammered out, swallowing. He finally broke eye contact with Danny. "Goodbye." He bit out, turning and briskly walking away. Sam watched as his figure shrank into the distance of the ballroom, disappearing into a sea of well-dressed bodies.
"What the fuck?" She whispered, stunned by what had just occurred. She swiveled around to see Danny looking similarly freaked out. "What the hell is his problem?" She said, confusion morphing into anger. Was he really such a snob that he had gotten that upset over Danny speaking to him? Had she been wrong about the man?
"I think.." Danny began, his voice trembling. "I think he recognized me."
END PART ONE
AN: Sorry about the wait! I hope you all had a great summer :)