Author's Note:

Hi everyone! Okay, so this is my first fanfiction EVER, so I'm suffering from lack of experience and I really don't know how it'll be received. But I do hope you like it! It's not very long (it's just a prologue, after all), but I've got the next two chapters in the works and I promise those won't be as short.

So here's a bit of my rationale behind this story, just so you know where I'm coming from as you read. I really like Vlad Masters as a character; he's pretty complex and, let's be honest, there's some seriously fucked up shit going on there. He's an interesting case. The problem with Vlad is the same problem every complex character in a children's cartoon encounters: they're in a CHILDREN'S cartoon. As a result, a lot of the complexities of the character are lost in an effort to make the show understandable and appropriate for the young people. I suppose that with this story I'm trying to create the kind of Vlad I think would actually exist if he lived out here with us in the real world. This takes place about six years after the start of the series. I also disregarded a lot of what happened in the last season and the last movie becuase I didn't like them. My apologies if that really offends you or something. Oh, and i threw some (eventual) smut in there for good measure.

Again, I hope you like it. Please review! I really want to know what you guys have to say!

Prologue: Invitations

Vlad Masters absentmindedly ran a finger around the rim of his jacket button, glaring at his distorted reflection in the elevator wall. He hated board meetings, and today's had been markedly worse than usual since the fiscal year was drawing to a close. And then that jackass from sales Derrick something-or-other had insisted on giving what was perhaps the most mind-numbingly dull presentation on cost-effective marketing in recorded human history. Vlad stifled a yawn and grimaced, remembering nearly falling asleep three times before finally resorting to counting the tiles in the ceiling to keep awake. There had been fifty-four tiles. As the elevator slowed and the doors swung open, Vlad made a mental note to find a way to keep Derrick out of any future meetings he'd have to attend.

The din of many chattering voices quickly evaporated into whispers and the diligent clicking of keyboards as the realization spread through the room that the CEO was on the floor. Vlad wasn't fazed; it was his usual reception. Turning a corner around a block of cubicles, he headed down a hallway towards his office, glancing at his watch as he walked. He'd planned to be home by this time. Fucking Derrick….

"Afternoon, Mr. Masters," a cheery voice called to him from across the hall as he paused at his office door, fumbling in his breast pocket for his card key. Turning slightly, Vlad spied Maxine, his current temp, hop up from her desk and flit over to him, heels clacking along the black linoleum.

"Maxine," Vlad responded. He plucked the card from his pocket before facing her fully, shamelessly eyeing her up and down. She caught the movement and pursed her lips in a sexy smile before tossing a lock of wavy red hair over her shoulder.

"I organized all your invoices," she said, handing him a folder of papers. "And you have a meeting with a new client next Wednesday at three-thirty. It's important, so be sure you look…" she ran a polished fingernail down the lapel of his jacket, giggling, "…nice." Vlad arched an eyebrow, shifting his eyes left and right to ensure no one was watching, though all things considered, he hardly would've cared if anyone was. He stared down at Maxine, smiling beautifully up at him. Even a week ago Vlad might have kissed her, or at least flashed her a sultry smile. Now, though…he just felt…nothing. She'd only worked for him for three weeks, and already he was bored.

"Really, Max," Vlad said, brushing off her finger and twisting his arm around to swipe his key. He heard a soft beep and felt the lock click open behind him. "Back to work."

Maxine pouted playfully, taking a step back before twirling around and walking slowly across the hall to her desk, swinging her hips gently to accentuate her backside. Vlad watched for a moment before turning into his office and slipping the card away. Sighing, he threw the folder on his desk, turned on his computer and slumped heavily onto the desk chair. As the computer churned to life, Vlad snuck a glance at Maxine through the blinds covering the glass wall that separated them. She was typing lazily away, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. Vlad sighed again. He probably shouldn't have slept with her. He certainly shouldn't have slept with her five times.

"Ah, well," he murmured to himself, grunting as he straightened up in the chair and leaned forward to check his email. He frowned at the small font and pulled open a side drawer, fishing out a small pair of glasses and shoving them up the bridge of his nose. When did he start needing glasses? Wearing them made him feel so goddamned old. Groaning, Vlad glanced at the calendar hanging to his left. His fiftieth birthday was in just under a year. How could that be possible?

How could he have already lived half his life?

Oh really, stop thinking that way, Vlad thought, pushing away the thin tendrils of doubt, dissatisfaction, and perhaps even fear starting to wind their way up his spine at the prospect of growing old. You've done more in fifty years than most people have done in their entire lifetime. More in twenty years. Now focus. Focus. And he forced himself into his work, burying the troubling thoughts in a barrage of emails, reports and papers. Keeping his fears at bay proved to be a great motivation, and in a fraction of the time it would have normally taken him, Vlad had finished all he needed to do, and was just putting the finishing touches on a mass email to about thirty managers, politely asking them to, if they would, please keep their bloody interoffice squabbles out of his inbox, as he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Smiling satisfactorily as he sent the message, Vlad leaned back in his chair, arching his back to crack his spine and neck. He had just begun to pack his things to leave when Maxine buzzed him over the intercom.

"Mr. Masters," she cooed, her wicked little smile evident to Vlad right through the wires. "You have a call on line three." Vlad groaned.

"Who is it?" he asked. "I told you I was only taking important calls today—"

"Says it's a Mr. Jack Fenton." Vlad froze. Jack? Jack? He hadn't spoken to Jack in nearly two years….

"Mr. Masters?" Maxine's voice hazily edged its way through his brain lock. "Mr. Masters? Do you want to take the call?" Vlad blinked.

"Uh, yes. Fine." Picking up the phone, he punched the line button and held the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"V-MAN!" Jack's unmistakable shout blared through the earpiece, causing Vlad to wince and yank the phone a few inches away from his ear. "How'ya doin'? It's been a while!"

"Uh, it-it-it certainly has," Vlad stammered, finding himself at a complete loss of words. "How, uh, wh-why are you calling?" He sounded like a stuttering idiot.

"I'll tell ya Vladdie," said Jack, still talking loudly enough that Vlad could hear him clearly while holding the phone a foot from his ear. "Maddie's throwin' me a party for my fiftieth – can you believe I'm gonna be FIFTY? – and I thought, I gotta invite the V-man! Can't have a party without him!" Jack laughed heartily; Vlad stared dumbfounded at the phone.

"So whudda ya say? We're planning for the, uh, the, uh—MADDIE?" Jack screamed into the distance. "When's the party?"

"The twenty-third, dear," Maddie's voice was just barely audible in the background. Vlad clutched the phone tighter, his knuckles white against the dark grey plastic.

"Thanks, baby!" Jack called, turning his attention back to Vlad. "Hear that, Vladdie? The twenty-third. So are ya comin'?" Vlad started.

"Uh…" He was finding it difficult to put sentences together.

"Vlad?"

"Uh, um, okay. Sure. Yes," he finally sputtered, flustered and grasping for words. His head was reeling. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"AWESOME!" Jack yelled into the phone, laughing. "I'm glad you can make it." His voice, though just as loud as before, suddenly seemed lighter, relieved. Through his muddled thoughts a small part of Vlad's mind recognized that Jack had been afraid he would have turned down the invitation. Vlad didn't know how he felt about that. It was just so strange to be talking to Jack again after all this time; he felt as though his brain was speeding up and slowing down simultaneously. A thousand questions raced though Vlad's head, deep, painful questions he wanted the answers to, but his mind couldn't process them fast enough and he found himself asking something else entirely—

"How did you get this number?"

"Tucker Foley," cried Jack without a moment's hesitation. "I asked him to track you down—that boy had your number in like five minutes flat!"

"Hmm," said Vlad, managing to dredge up faint memories of the boy and his obsession with electronics. "Daniel's friend…."

"Yeah!" said Jack. "It was great! Well, V-man, I'll be seeing you the twenty-third! Make sure to buy me something awesome! HA!" Jack's laughter echoed through the receiver until it was cut off by a sharp click followed by a dial tone.

Vlad stared dumbly at the phone, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, emotions he'd have liked to keep buried under two years' worth of distance between himself and the Fentons. His hands were shaking as he carefully hung up the phone, handling it delicately as though it were made of fragile glass. The truth was that if he didn't take care to set it down gently, he would have sent it flying across the room. Just hearing Jack's voice… just his voice opened doors to some pretty dark places. Vlad shut his eyes. There was so much anger there, so much of it, and underneath that, at the sinister root of it, was something else, something much more painful, a deep hurt and a powerful self-loathing—

"Stop it!" Vlad jumped to his feet, palms planted firmly on his desk, face staring down at the mess of papers covering it. He felt winded and was breathing in great raspy breaths as though he'd been punched in the gut. He shut his eyes again. "Stop it," he whispered fiercely. "Stop it, stop it, stop it—"

"Sir?"

Vlad gasped and snapped his head up so fast his glasses fell halfway off his face. His wild eyes fell on Maxine, a stack of papers in her hands, her face scrunched up in concern at Vlad's strange behavior.

"You okay?" she whispered, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind her. Vlad quickly straightened and composed himself as best he could.

"I'm fine," he said, attempting, only halfway successfully, to elicit a stern tone in his response.

"That call—" She eyed him suspiciously. "You sure you're okay?"

"I told you I'm fine," Vlad said, his tone rising a bit. But he heard his voice quaver as he spoke, and knew Maxine heard it too. He felt suddenly ashamed, and a hot, fiery hatred for the woman in front of him erupted in his chest. He felt pinned under her analyzing gaze. Vlad did not like to be analyzed. He did not like to be pinned.

"Just get out," he murmured darkly, fixing his steely eyes on the floor.

"Vlad—"

"Get. Out." Maxine put her hands on her hips.

"Look. I'm only trying to help—"

"I do not need your help," Vlad seethed. "Go." Now it was Maxine's turn to feel powerless under Vlad's cold eyes. They bored into her; they almost seemed red with rage. Was it just her imagination? How could that be possible? She bit her lip, hesitating. Vlad's temper flared.

"BITCH, GET OUT OF THIS OFFICE!" he roared. Maxine jumped, the papers slipping from her grip and cascading to the floor. Her pretty face screwed up in anger.

"Fine." She turned for the exit, grinding her heels purposefully into the papers she just dropped. "If that's all I am to you, then we're through." Pausing with her hand on the knob, she turned back to Vlad. "I quit, you bastard."

"Fine by me," Vlad hissed after her. "You're only good for a fuck, anyways." Maxine started, and felt hot, angry tears jump into her eyes. She turned to Vlad, who was still breathing heavily and glaring icily at her.

"Son of a bitch!" she nearly screamed, hands clenched in angry fists by her sides. "You think this is over? You think you can treat me like this? I'm gonna report you to workers' relations so fast they'll have your dick on a platter! Enjoy your last day as CEO, you little prick—"

Maxine whipped around to the door, barely taking her eyes off Vlad for a second, but suddenly, there he was, not more than three inches in front of her, bearing down upon her with a wicked grin etched across his face and a furious glint in his eye. Gasping in shock, Maxine did a double-take towards the now empty desk before Vlad grabbed her shoulder, digging his fingers into her flesh.

"H-How did you—?"

"So now you're going to run off and tell on me?" Vlad hissed, interrupting her, a deadly edge in his voice. "I suppose I forgot we were still in fucking second grade." Maxine gaped; she had never heard him sound so cruel. Vlad chuckled darkly. "But that's okay," he continued, "because I know how to play all those games, too. In fact, I'll make you a deal." Maxine stared up at him, eyes wide in fear.

"Here it is: Keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut, and I'll forget all about the fact that your parents have been dodging their taxes for the past forty-seven years and that for the past two months your sister's been harboring a felon in her home." Maxine gasped and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry.

"How-how do you know about that?" The tears that had been resting in her eyes streamed down her cheeks.

"I have… methods," Vlad said simply, his grin stretching wider. "Really. Did you seriously think I'd start something with you without a bit of collateral? Please." He lowered his face until it was just inches from Maxine's. "So just remember: if you think you have anything to say to anyone about this, just remember that the IRS and a very disgruntled court in southern California will be hearing a few things from me. I have money, and I have power, and I have ways of dealing with those who insist on being thorns in my side, so don't. Even. Try." Upon saying the last words, Vlad released Maxine's shoulder, sending her stumbling back several steps.

Vlad sauntered back to his desk, turning off his computer and brushing an array of papers and objects into his briefcase before glancing back up at Maxine, who hadn't moved. Her hands were clasped over her mouth, her glistening eyes wide and staring at the ground. Vlad grinned, a sadistic smile twisting his features as he reveled in the power he held over the woman. It was intoxicating. But at that moment another emotion wedged its way into his mind, one that wanted to apologize to Maxine, to hold her and pet her hair and beg for her forgiveness because this really wasn't him at all, it really wasn't, and she may well have loved him and he desperately wanted that, god, he wanted someone to love him so badly it was physically painful—

Vlad furiously slammed his fist into his desk to quell the sudden torrent of disturbing urges. His jaw clenched, the pressure in his head and the pain in his hand helping to dull the nearly overwhelming cascade of emotions. His eye twitched once. Twice. He took a deep breath, and then another. Slowly, slowly, the feelings dissipated, then were gone. As if nothing had happened, he cleared his throat and straightened his tie before turning his attention back to the wounded woman before him.

"Now. Get. Out. Of. This. Office." Vlad's voice was raspy and strained, but deadly in its resolution. Maxine obliged, moving jerkily as if her limbs were much too heavy. Vlad made himself numb to her whimpering and to the heavy sobs she let fly once the door had closed behind her. He listened to her cries echo down the hallway before collapsing into his chair, completely exhausted and unable to feel a thing. Gazing detachedly at his surroundings, he noticed a small shadow cast onto the floor by a standing lamp, stretching lazily and deep into the carpet fibers. Transfixed, he stared at the point of darkness for a very long time.