Chapter Text
Vlad flipped through the news articles on the shimmering screen in front of him, flicking a finger every once in a while to ‘turn’ the digital page. He paused when a red notification popped up at the corner of his eye.
“You are receiving a call from an unfamiliar number, Mr. Masters,” said a pleasant voice. “Would you like to answer?”
The older halfa tilted his head consideringly.
“Why not. Answer.”
“Answering the phone.”
Vlad waited for the soft chime indicating they had been connected before starting to speak.
“Hello-”
“We have your grandson,” a sinister voice growled. “And we’ll kill him if you don’t do exactly what we say.”
Vlad Masters blinked. He didn’t have any of those last he checked. Of any gender or species.
“…may I ask who you are?” he said carefully.
“You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is we’ll kill him if you don’t bring us three million dollars tomorrow night.”
“Three million? My dear, if you want to make me reach deeper, ask for at least 20.”
There was an awkward pause on the other side of the phone.
“Erm…who is this?”
“Didn’t my darling grandchild tell you? This is Vlad Masters.”
The voice sputtered in shock.
“Yes, so I expect not a hair on my grandchild’s head to be harmed when I pick them up or I will burn everything and everyone you love,” Vlad growled, letting Plasmius slip into his voice. “Now, I can get the money to you by tomorrow evening at the earliest. Text me where you want me to deliver it. I’ll only hand it off after I see he’s alive.”
Vlad hung up then and thought carefully. Who could this possibly be about? There was one idea he had…hm.
He scooped up the cat in his lap, aptly named Buttercup for the hue of her fur, and carried her over to his computer. His fingers danced through the see-through screen as it hovered in midair, pulling up his constantly maintained file on the Fenton Clan. Daniel had three children with Samantha Manson and two adopted children who had in turn had quite a few of their own and so on and so forth.
Vlad flicked carefully through the screens then pulled up everyone that looked of age to be his “grandson” in this century. He searched for any unexplained absences and narrowed them down to three. A bit more research later and one Nathaniel Fenton, an extremely pale redhead, was missing for two days from his community college classes.
Very well. He had his kidnappee. Now to rescue the poor damsel.
~~~
Vlad sighed at the gun being waved in his face. He had quite a bit of experience with this over the centuries and found himself craving, in a hidden piece of his soul, for something more interesting to be used. A claymore perhaps. Or even an iron maiden.
No one in this century has any proper sense of the dramatic, he sighed inwardly. There is an art form to causing fear. This is just sloppy work.
“Put your hands up! Don’t move!” the man snarled.
“Which do you want me to do?” Vlad asked calmly. “Not to move? Or to put my hands up?”
The gunman paused, clearly puzzled.
“I-I don’t-”
“Here. Let me help you decide,” Vlad said, then overshadowed the man. “There we go, my dear. No need to think at all now.”
Vlad retraced the man’s steps, heading back to the warehouse in the quite frankly disgusting vehicle the kidnapper had driven to meet Vlad in. He paused by the warehouse door, gave the password, then stepped inside when it was yanked open.
“You got the money?”
Vlad held up the briefcase, ever so slightly delighted by the fact that he was playing a role he’d seen a dozen times in the much older movies.
“Put it on the table,” the other man directed.
Vlad did as he was told then paused when he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against the side of his head.
“No hard feelings, mate.”
“None-”
The gunshot rang out in the warehouse along with the wet splat of flesh on the concrete. The third kidnapper sitting at the table, frozen in horror.
“Wh-what was that for?!”
“Do you want to split 20 million three ways or just two?” the leader said pointedly.
“I-um, just two?”
“As I was saying, no hard feelings whatsoever,” said another voice.
Both kidnappers shrieked as the body of their fellow conspirator rose up from the puddle of blood on the floor.
“Z-Z-Zombie!”
“Close. But not quite,” Vlad said, letting his red eyes glow.
After quite a bit of screaming and shooting later, Vlad finished cleaning up the scene of his crime.
“Now, if I were a damsel in distress, where would I put myself?” Vlad hummed as he flew through the warehouse.
He found his kidnappee in the second room he checked. Vlad’s lip curled at the smell. Clearly the young man had been kept in here and not allowed out for the last two days given the contents of the piss bucket in the corner.
“Hello Nathaniel,” Vlad said, striving to keep his voice gentle as he knelt beside the shaking human.
“Wh-who are you?”
“That’s no way to greet your favorite grandfather now is it?”
“Y-you’re him?”
Vlad tugged off the blindfold and was completely prepared for the way the man flinched back from his Plasmius form.
“Uh-uh-”
“I know. Blue isn’t the color for everyone, but I do think I wear it well,” Vlad said easily. “Now, let’s get those chains off you, hm? Hold out your hands for me please.”
Vlad waited patiently until Nathaniel finally did as he asked then peeled the cuffs off like they were cheese. He did the same to the ones around Nathaniel’s ankles then stood to his feet, ignoring the younger man’s flinch.
“Can you stand, Nathaniel?”
“I-I think so?”
“Give it a try then.”
Vlad could carry him, of course, but it was always better to let them try on their own first. It helped their recovery in the long term or so the last psychology text he’d read had said. Then again, how many decades ago had that been? Hm, maybe he ought to take a refresher.
Meanwhile, Nathaniel had gotten shakily to his feet.
“Very good. Now, is there any reason I shouldn’t take you home immediately? Anything you need to do here? I already killed the men who took you so no need to worry about them,” Vlad assured.
“I-I, um, thank you?”
“You’re most welcome, my dear boy. Now, home?”
“Y-yes, but do you know where-oh!”
Vlad reached out and gently touched his shoulder and suddenly they were standing inside the front area of his house.
“Oh fuck!”
“There now. You’re home safe. Let’s get some food and fluid in you,” Vlad soothed, using his hold on the younger man to guide him to the small kitchen table. “Sit down here.”
The younger man settled awkwardly at the table as the ghost plied him with food and drink.
“Um, sir?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“I’m not…where did the food come from?”
“Oh yes, I dropped by here earlier to make sure I could teleport in right away when I picked you up. The fridge was rather barebones so I restocked for you.”
Nathaniel glanced at the front door which he definitely remembered getting kicked in while he’d been watching tv.
“I also brought in a few workers to fix up anything that needed work. No need to thank me.”
“Um-”
“Now, pardon me for saying this, but I think it would be best for you to shower now that you’ve got some food in your system.”
“Oh, right. That would be…nice.”
Nathaniel shuffled off to the shower. He spent a good hour in there and only emerged when Vlad knocked pointedly on the door. The moment Nathaniel opened the door, Vlad shoved yet another drink at him.
“Drink up, my boy. It will help with the shock.”
Caught off guard, the younger man didn’t even question it. He drank down the glass then started down the hall to put the glass in the kitchen sink only to stumble then go down. Vlad neatly caught him then the glass with telekinesis. He tucked Nathaniel into bed then left a credit chip with what amounted to several thousand dollars on the bedside table along with the number of a counselor that specialized in traumatic ghost rescues. That wasn’t exactly what had happened to poor Nathaniel, but Vlad figured it was close enough.
The older halfa teleported back to his castle then shifted back to his human form, quite pleased with how the whole thing had turned out. It had been a fun little outing on the whole. For Vlad, at least. He doubted either the kidnappers nor poor Nathaniel thought so.
“Buttercup? Daddy’s back,” Vlad called for his cat. “Come give me a kissie.”
A mew of greeting caught his ear, and he turned and scooped the orange tabby up into his arms, kissing the top of her sweet head before Vlad headed for the kitchen and his own lunch.