Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot
Planning one's death, even if it was a complete fabrication, was much more tiresome than he had first thought. Of course, there were times in his life when others had assumed him dead. In fact, there had been numerous occasions that he himself had guessed he was dead due to his body feeling too abused to function any longer.
Erik had even played dead once, to avoid another blow that may have actually been fatal.
Nevertheless, he had never encouraged rumors about his death. Yet he stood now in a small alley way with the night sky above him and his body concealed in the darkest corner. He thought sullenly about his purpose here, hiding in the shadows.
She was late. He didn't mind though, it gave his sarcastic mind more time to consider his situation. Erik went over the mental list in his head like he had for the last week. Everything was done, finished as much as it could be. He knew this but still went over the tasks.
Possessions
Those were taken care of, he thought grumpily. He knew a certain nosy acquaintance of his would surely think the news of his 'death' to be false. Erik was certain his home below the Opera would be searched up and down by his old friend. Taking anything noticeable with him would have looked suspicious, and he couldn't allow the Daroga to find any reason to continue his pursuit.
Erik did bring a small messenger bag with personal items, though. Inside he packed away one extra mask, a small bag of various currency, his lasso, and an emerald colored hair clip that Christine had left behind.
Erik shuddered and forced his mind away from Christine. He couldn't think of her, especially tonight. He continued to go over his mental list, avoiding anything that would potentially bring his thoughts to her.
He found himself so dedicated to his task that when the petite figure appeared at the opening of the alley he didn't notice. Erik didn't notice anything at all until he heard her nervous voice chirp out his name.
Erik stepped from the shadows just in time to frighten the girl into jumping back. A rich red cloak hung on her shoulders and its hood concealed most of her hair. She was much, much shorter than he. So much so that she had to crane her neck up to see his masked face.
Even with her heavy cloak, Erik could still clearly make out the bright green in Meg Giry's wide eyes. "Are you avoiding a wolf, little red?"
Meg huffed at his sarcastic greeting and pushed the hood back from her head. "It's my only cloak." She puffed her small chest out and Erik wanted to laugh at her attempt of bravery. He decided not to though, since the reality of his situation came back to his thoughts once more.
"Of course, please forgive me. It seems my imminent death has me on edge."
"Fake death" She reminded him gently. At this he nodded, and she offered the worn paper in her hand to him. He took it after a pause and read through his own wanted poster.
It seemed the city really wanted him found, and preferably found dead. Erik did roll his eyes at what was meant to be a sketch of him, he eyed Meg with a sarcastic glint. "Now, I'm not that terrible looking." He studied the picture again. "When did I develop pointed ears?"
Meg grinned at him, knowing now after four months of truly knowing him that he often masked his nervousness with dark humor. On the street over a group of drunk men began to holler and rough house, making both of them stop and look to the alley entrance.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
Meg watched him shake his head and fold the poster into his coat pocket. "No." He began leaving with slow, thoughtful steps. "So, it's all ready then? Did you have any trouble, Meg?"
She fell in step behind him, her eyes on his back. "No, it was simple- like you said. I offered the money and he um…let me pick which one." She shivered, picking out an unclaimed corpse was the strangest thing she had done. "We were lucky, there was a man just your height."
Erik hummed in acknowledgment before stopping just outside the alley. Meg pointed to their left at a small bridge, a sinister lump was propped near its edge. "Tell me, did you carry him yourself?" Erik asked before continuing to the lump.
Meg rolled her eyes. "Of course not, the owner had his groundskeeper follow me."
"And you're certain they-" Erik began before she hastily cut him off, the pair of them kneeling next to the lump inside of a large sack. "I'm sure." Meg didn't dare touch was slumped inside the sack. She watched Erik carefully untie the rope knotted on top before the the dead man inside was released.
This part of their plan was Erik's job, and Meg didn't turn her eyes to watch the mans face transform into the Phantom's. "Relax," Erik mumbled, catching her attention. "They're merely prosthetics."
She watched him pull what looked like strips of flesh out of the bag on his side and her stomach went queasy. "Makeup?" She whispered.
Erik nodded, carefully coating a clear gel on each strip before securing the disturbing piece onto the dead mans face. "Water won't wash it away, I made them as durable as one can." He paused before gluing on the last piece. "I molded them on my own face to make sure they'd be…authentic." Erik placed the final touch, an older and cracked mask, onto the mans face.
"No one will question it, they won't dare touch too close." He stated firmly.
Meg believed him, and she stood when Erik did and sighed. As he reached into his pocket for the final part of their plan she blurted out "I'm coming with you."
Erik looked bewildered, his hand halfway in his pocket. She waited for him to snap at her, or even flatly tell her no.
Instead he met her eyes and was silent. "I'm already packed. I wrote a goodbye note. I'm going too." She said with her bravest voice, but they both still heard the small shake in it.
Slowly he nodded and quietly said "If you wish."
Erik gripped the small pistol in his pocket and pulled it out. He waited for Meg to nod, her hands coming to her ears, before quickly aiming at the body beside them. Erik held up three fingers and silently counted down.
On one, Meg let out a blood chilling scream and Erik fired at the mans chest. The pair wasted no time heaving the corpse over the side of the bridge, the impact with the water creating a deep splash. Lights began to flicker on in the buildings around them.
"He's here!" Meg cried. "The Phantom of the Opera!"
Her dramatics almost made him laugh, but knowing all would fail if they were seen Erik grabbed her hand. They ran, leaving the dreaded Phantom of the Opera behind.