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Dash hated these events . . . with a burning passion. Ever since being promoted to the position of star quarterback of the University of Wisconsin-Madison's famed team, the Badgers, his father insisted on dragging him to every gathering, mingling, gala, charity event, and business brunch he could. And of course, the blasted man knew his schedule to a T since it would be odd for such a large constituent of the university to not be involved in his son's education. It worked well in his favor that Dash was given credit for the teams astounding turn in performance over the last two years. The university student knew his status alone was enough to secure his father several prestegious contracts for his company.
None of this would really be Dash's problem except the man's greed surpassed his consideration for his son's desire to have any kind of personal social life. He often felt like a show dog, paraded around for the amusement of his father or whatever crowd of uptight rich folk he was trying to swindle. Dash couldn't keep track of how many last minute texts and phone calls he's sent canceling his plans because his father did not bother to give him advance notice. It would be simple enough to deny the man, but there was no telling how his college football career (and more importantly his sports scholarship) could be sabotaged now that his father was known as a prestigious donor.
Despite Dash only being a sophomore, this particular event was his fathers attempt to help his son, despite his arguments otherwise, get drafted into an NFL team. There were supposed to be various managers of NFL teams at this event, hosted by the manager of the Green Bay Packers. Though Dash doubted this home belonged to the manager, being that it was a literal castle with a freaking ballroom and everything.
There was no way a place like this could be afforded on a manager's salary. Which Dash learned quickly as the night went on was that this was indeed the truth. It turns out the space was offered up by a rather large donor to the Packers, a Vlad Masters, who strangely enough was the one time mayor of Dash's hometown of Amity Park. The quarterback had seen several glimpses of the man, but had yet to meet him, despite his eagerness to talk with the older man about his research and development on sports safety equipment. It was a miracle of feats the decline in the number of impact and strain related injuries in teams which utilized Dalv branded equipment. Not only was it functional, but quite ergonomic and comfortable, easy to personalize for team branding, and was incredibly affordable. It was only Dalv's first line of any kind of sports gear, but it had blown the whole market wide open.
Dash was slowly growing more irritated however, as his father practically dragged him from group to group, each time just barely dodging meeting with Mr. Masters. It wasn't until he was suffering another introduction to the head accountant for the Vikings that Dash got his chance.
"Ah, Mr. Baxter, so very good to see you." A smooth voice came from behind him and his father.
"Mr. Masters, its a pleasure," his father returned, making it sound like the least pleasurable thing ever. Despite this, Mr. Masters appeared to maintain a pleasant neutrality, even managing a gentle smile. He turned a curious eye on Dash.
"And who is this?"
Before his father could even open his mouth, Dash was shaking Mr. Masters' hand, saying, "Dash Baxter, sir, it's a true honor to meet you."
"Oh?" Mr. Masters seemed taken aback by the polite greeting, but smiled warmly, "Young Mr. Baxter! It truly is a pleasure to meet you after having worked with your father."
It could have been a jab at his father, but Dash couldn't care less. The man had wandered off at some point, making his disdain for the billionaire even more obvious. He grinned toothily, "The pleasure is all mine! I truly admire your work on your company's Pivot line."
Vlad seemed puzzled for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing, confusing Dash in that moment.
"I must apologize, this kind of mistake happens often but sometimes I cannot help myself but get caught up in the joy."
Well wasn't that just confusing. Dash could feel the skin between his brows wrinkle as he frowned, "what do you mean, Mr. Masters?"
"I did not, in fact, work on the Pivot line, young Mr. Baxter, but I do not fault you as it is an easy mistake to make when seeing the Masters name." Vlad began glancing around the ballroom, "however, I do believe he is here somewhere, if he hasn't run off. He really detests these kinds of things, yknow?"
Dash opened his mouth to ask who, but was cut off by Mr. Masters locking eyes with someone behind Dash and letting out a soft exclamation, "Ah! My boy, come here please! There is someone who would like to meet the great mind behind your Pivot line."
"I really can't keep taking all this credit, old man, I didn't do all the work on my own," the voice that came from behind him was vaguely familiar yet much deeper than the memories that it dredged up. Dash ignored the sense of dread, turning to face this head on as Mr. Masters stepped forward to greet the new arrival. Vlad's hand rested on the shoulder of a well tailored suit and he once again smiled warmly at Dash, seeming to ignore the younger man's attempts to downplay his role.
"Mr. Baxter, I would like you to meet my son, Daniel Masters, Daniel this is Dash Baxter."
The young man froze, wide ice blue eyes staring at the quarterback, flicking back and forth. Despite being caught off guard, Dash still felt like he was being studied. He returned the favor, trying to pick out the familiarity of the young man before him until it all slid into place. Dusty memories from freshman year at Casper High School shook themselves off before rushing to the front of Dash's mind, along with them came a tangle of questions.
"Fenton!?"
The air suddenly felt thin, like someone had dropped them in the middle of the wilds in the dead of winter. His examination of the face before him was quickly cut off by Mr. Masters physically inserting himself between the two of them. Dash flicked his head up from where it was tilted down to stare at Fenton to meet his cold gaze, and while Mr. Masters didn't seem angry, there was something else much more terrifying yet unnameable there. The quarterback was larger than the billionaire, yet he still took a step back and lifted his hands in a non-threatening manner.
When Vlad spoke next, it was quiet, but may as well been shouted to Dash's ears, "Listen closely to me, there is no Fenton here tonight. If I hear that name again I may be forced to evacuate you from these premises, and I would hate to do that to such a fine young man. You will refer to Daniel as I have introduced him to you, understood?"
Dash hadn't played the idiot card since he started college. He was smart enough to understand an unspoken threat when he heard one. He glanced briefly over Mr. Master's shoulders, once again meeting pale blue eyes for a short moment before reinitiating eye contact with the older man and nodding. They maintained their staring contest for a moment longer, Dash swallowing dryly in a pathetic attempt to ease his discomfort. It was very rare that Dash felt genuinely intimidated by someone and he found himself frozen by the unfamiliarity of it.
The moment was broken when a hand gripped Vlad's arm and yanked him back. Daniel Masters was at his side glaring without any real heat, and Vlad's facial expression softened in turn, expressing without words, concern for the young man "Knock it off, old man, you're making a scene."
Vlad frowned at this, and cast one more not so subtle look at Dash before he was pushed towards the crowd by Daniel. 'Wasn't that an odd way to refer to him' Dash thought as his confusion began catching up with him again.
"Go mingle, I can handle some questions about my work."
"Daniel, are you-?"
Vlad was cut off by a huff and a roll of his eyes, "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, you have about 5 other team managers to discuss a contract with about this equipment. Go actually do your job."
It was weirdly comical watching the older man concede by throwing his arms into the air in surrender as he shuffled off. Despite the seemingly silly action, uneasiness over the older man still settled low in Dash's gut. There was something lurking beneath the surface, but that was not the mystery that really caught the athlete's attention. The odd protectiveness though, was certainly worth noting. Dash turned his attention back to Fent—Daniel, who's jovial mask had slipped to reveal the shorter man intently studying him.
Honestly, Dash hadn't thought about the other man since maybe sophomore year of high school. After bullying him throughout his entire freshman year, he kind of grew out of it. Content to just ignore the school 'loser.' However, everyone noticed when 3 weeks into their sophomore year, both of the Fenton children had just stopped coming to school and everyone who would know something about it didn't say anything. Foley and Manson had shut themselves off even more from the rest of their class. Rumors flew for about 4 more weeks before it seemed like everyone just forgot about the siblings. Their parents disappeared too, and there were rumors of police cars and ambulances outside the hideous building they called their home the night before the family's disappearance. It was really easy for the town to play it off as a ghost related accident or one of the Fenton parents' crazy inventions gone wrong. Despite all the rumors and bits of information, the news outlets and police were silent on the matter and nobody really cared to find out the truth. The interest died quickly
Dash took a brief moment to study the other man. He was definitely taller, more filled out since 5 years ago in freshman year. Dash had grown too, and still easily had a head on him. His hair was still messy, but it seemed more intentional than it had in those days when he had been Dash's personal punching bag. He wore a well tailored suit and carried himself with a new confidence rather than being constantly hunched over and hidden by much too big fabric. His jawline had sharpened and what showed of his neck spoke of increased muscle definition. Similarities remained though, those unnervingly light eyes, a slightly upturned nose, a smattering of pale freckles, pitch black hair, rounded chin.
And that same crooked smile, usually leveled at him in a taunting manner, was now gentle and apologetic, "Sorry about the old man, he is a bit cranky about having all these people in his house."
They both knew it was more than that, but Dash felt it wasn't his place. Fe–Daniel powered through Dash's awkward silence, "You look good, you've grown a lot since we were in high school. What're you doing these days? I'm guessing something to do with football since you're so interested in the Pivot gear."
Dash's throat clicked as he swallowed and he nodded. It was a surrealism experience, seeing the other man do cool and collected while he was a nervous wreck unsure of what to say. Even so, a part of him felt he owed Daniel an answer, "I-I attend UW, physical therapy. I'm the quarterback for the Badgers."
The raven hair man laughed, a full but light sound, "I wouldn't expect anything less. Dash Baxter, star quarterback." The words weren't meant as an insult, but they sure felt like one, "You planning on going pro after college?"
Dash glowered at this, "Hell no."
He had no idea why he was telling Fenton? Masters? Daniel all this. So far, only Kwan knew about Dash's plans to quit football after college. He was sick of being in the spotlight, though he had nothing against other star players. In fact, his whole goal was to support famous athletes, make sure they don't become plagued with the chronic pain like what had settled into Dash's back and left leg from years of reckless playing.
Danny's smile softened and he seemed thoughtful, "hmm, really? What are your plans after college?"
"Grad school. I want to continue my physical therapy program."
Dash was unsure how the conversation had turned from interviewing the developer of the Pivot line to his ex-bullying-victim prying information out of him that he had only told his own best friend. He remembered the crowds they were surrounded by and that he should be more careful about what he said in case his father overheard. Thankfully it seemed like all the other attendees were wrapped up in their own conversations. He saw that his father had found his target and was talking the ear off the manager of the Packers. With any luck his buffoonery would ruin Dash's chances of going pro without him having to take any blame.
He snapped back to the situation at hand when Daniel spoke quietly, "Makes sense why you want to know about the Pivot line then."
Dash agreed maybe too quickly, "Y-yeah! It's amazing equipment! The statistics on injury reduction are unprecedented and the ergonomics make it insanely comfortable. The ratings are unlike anything I've ever seen before."
He was stopped by a soft laugh from the other man. Daniel at least had the decency to look ashamed, "Sorry, I like the enthusiasm but I wouldn't ever imagine you geeking out about anything."
That… was fair. It's not like Dash was open about his intelligence in high school, even after Danny had disappeared. The other man would have no idea that Dash would be passionate about anything other than football, popularity, and bullying nerds. Just as Dash knew nothing beyond Danny liking horror movies and space, which could easily be outdated information.
He was about to brush off his apology when he spotted his father again. He was obviously searching for Dash and he didn't look too happy, "Uh oh."
"What?" Daniel inquired, following his line of sight until he spotted Dash's father in the crowd. He recognized the hulking man from 'Bring Your Parents' to school day in 8th grade, "Oh."
Before Dash could make an excuse to ditch Daniel, he was being dragged from the ballroom by the shorter man who was once again laughing lightly. He tugged Dash through double doors. The athlete barely had time to take in the winding halls and tapestry as they maneuvered through the seemingly endless corridors.
Their escape ended in a surprisingly quaint kitchen. A fine wooden table was shoved into a corner and the stone tiling beneath his feet made him feel like he was in a cottage rather than a castle.
He sat at the table, accepting the other man's offer of water and snacks. He took the time to observe the easy way that Daniel moved. He was no longer that clumsy, anxious kid. It was still hard for Dash to connect the dots between this man and puny Fenton, but Daniel had confirmed it earlier when he acknowledged Dash's growth both physical and emotional.
They both sat at the table for some time, sipping their water and cooling off from their escape. Dash noticed that Daniel didn't even seem out of breath from the run. A lot has changed. The quiet gave space for questions to rear their head again. They sat behind Dash's teeth and he was afraid to say anything. Those events were something he hadn't thought about in years, hadn't ever really cared about, but now he cared and he had the burning need to know.
Did Manson and Foley know he was here all this time? Why was he here? Why was it Masters instead of Fenton? Where were his parents? Where was his sister? The biggest question of all though was…
"What happened to you?"
The question was whispered but it was deafening in the silence of the strange out of place kitchen. Dash couldn't look the other man in the eye so he instead focused on Daniel's white knuckles grip on the cup in his hand. He hadn't meant to speak it out loud, and now that he had he wished he could suck the words back in and forget about Daniel Masters and this forsaken castle. It was too late though. Pandora's Box was open the moment he uttered that dead surname. The questions would have continued to plague him even if he had left Daniel there.
It was like a switch was flipped in Fe–Masters. That soft happiness was replaced by nothing except for unmistakable tension. Even his voice was flat, "What do you mean, Dash?"
His name was spoken like a warning. 'Do not enter.' 'Turn back.' And in a way he was given a chance in Daniel's question. Despite his curiosity he knew he should seize this out while he could. This whole thing was a runaway train and this was his last chance to pull the emergency brake. He could choose to save this or to send them careening off the end of the tracks. Dash was bullheaded, but he wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines. He would divert.
The happiness was forced, he knew it, Daniel knew it. He smiled as he lied, "I meant how did you get so smart to work research and development for the Dalv corporation?"
Daniel's whole body relaxed in that moment. The tension was still there but it was nominal now compared to a few moments ago. His smile was clearly forced but it was a relief that he could even fake one. He said 'smart choice' with his full body.
"Vlad helped me get some private tutoring. Turns out I just needed some one on one studying to understand the basic concepts of things, after that it was easy."
Dash couldn't help but wonder if there was a lie in that truth or a truth in the lie. Either way, he knew there was some amount of honesty in the answer. As much as he wanted to ask, he knew that was a dangerous game. So, instead the next words that came out of his mouth were safe. They were easy.
"Tell me about the Pivot line?"
However, curling low in his gut, uneasiness had made its home.