This Place Will Become Your Tomb

Blood Sport

The wind howled through the high towers of Vlad Masters' estate, its mournful wail seeping through the cracks in the grand windows and brushing against the cold stone walls like the whisper of ghosts long forgotten. Inside the dimly lit halls, there was a silence that felt heavy, almost oppressive, as if the air itself was waiting—anticipating something.

And at the heart of that stillness, sitting in the shadows of his private study, was Vlad Masters.

His long fingers drummed rhythmically against the arm of the grand leather chair he occupied, the sound echoing softly in the dark room. The only source of light came from the large fireplace at the far end of the room, the flames casting flickering shadows across his face. His sharp features were partially obscured in the dim glow, but his eyes—the cold, calculating blue eyes that had seen and orchestrated more than most could imagine—gleamed with a predatory focus.

He was waiting. Watching. Thinking.

In his hands, Vlad held a single object, small and innocuous to the untrained eye—a simple photograph. But to him, it was far more than that. It was a glimpse into the world he coveted, a world he had been denied for so long. The photograph depicted a moment of fleeting happiness—a scene of Danny, Sam, and Tucker standing outside of FentonWorks, their faces alight with carefree smiles.

Vlad's fingers tightened around the photograph, the edges crinkling slightly under the pressure. The sight of Danny's smile—so young, so naive—stirred something dark inside him, something that had festered for years. That boy was supposed to have been his legacy, his creation. Danny was meant to be a reflection of everything Vlad had lost, everything he had fought for. And yet, despite all his efforts, Danny remained loyal to Jack and Maddie, the very people who had betrayed Vlad all those years ago.

His lips curled into a sneer, and his heart twisted with a familiar, poisonous emotion—love warped into something twisted, an obsession born out of rejection and failure. He had once loved Maddie Fenton, adored her, seen in her everything he had ever wanted in a partner. But that love had soured, turning into something darker when she had chosen Jack over him. And now, decades later, that same bitter obsession had transferred to her son, Danny.

Danny Fenton—the boy with the power Vlad craved, the potential Vlad had always wanted for himself. Danny was the key to everything: to ultimate power, to dominance over both the human and ghost worlds. But more than that, Danny was Vlad's chance for vindication, his opportunity to take back what had been stolen from him all those years ago.

He would have Danny. He would control him, mold him, make him realize that his true path was alongside Vlad—not against him. And if that meant manipulating Danny's insecurities, preying on the boy's fears and weaknesses, then so be it. Vlad had waited too long, invested too much to be denied now.

With a quiet sigh, Vlad set the photograph down on the ornate desk before him. His eyes lingered on the image for a moment longer, his mind already weaving a complex web of manipulation, a plan to draw Danny deeper into his grasp. The boy was vulnerable—more so than he had ever been. Vlad had kept a close watch on him, seen the cracks forming in Danny's resolve, in his spirit. The boy was falling apart, weakened by the very powers that had once made him so strong.

And that was precisely where Vlad would strike.

Slowly, deliberately, Vlad rose from his chair, his long coat billowing slightly as he moved toward the large bay window that overlooked the sprawling grounds of his estate. The wind howled louder here, rattling the glass panes, but Vlad didn't flinch. His mind was too focused, too sharp to be distracted by the storm brewing outside.

He placed his hands behind his back, staring out into the dark night with a calm that belied the storm raging inside him. In his mind, he was already mapping out the next steps, already plotting how he would draw Danny into his web. The boy's insecurities were plentiful, ripe for exploitation—his fear of failing the people he loved, his guilt over the damage his ghost powers had caused, his doubt about whether he was truly strong enough to control the power inside him.