Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the story… lets just leave it at that to make things less complicated.
Notes: I've been working over three months on this piece, so if you read, please be nice and review! I'll be putting up one section a month (the first four sections are already written).
The glare of white sand shown in the bright noonday sun like the soft glow of a lone moon lost in a universe of shining saffire blue ocean water. The island's grinning crescent shape added to the effect. It was small, lonely, a vacant paradise full of palm trees and exotic birds. It was untouched by the poisoning effects of human habitation, save for one small dwelling surrounded by a dark forest of palms.
The building was a fortress, a quaint and eloquent castle. It was beautiful, in an eccentric sort of way, built out of rough gray stones, surrounded by a spider web of deep green vines. A haze of magic, so strong as to nearly be a tangible entity in itself haunted the castle like a ghost, all radiating from one single person, the island's lone inhabitant.
She had no name and an empty storybook. She knew that was important somehow, though not why. She had power to do anything she wanted to. Though she was young, very young, she had the appearance of an ancient hag, a witch. Like the entire island, she seemed to shine with a sort of inner iridescence, to soar across the psyche on the wings of a dragonfly.
Deep green eyes reflected in a small crystalline globe made of the sea, yet solid to touch. Metaphysics that defied reality, and nurtured evil were reflected in her single magic object. She could hear music, all around her, coming from within. She knew she could make this music real, if only she could find the right voices. If only she could find the right voices…
"Florence Vassey!" The name came to her suddenly, the person, the character. Anything that came that quick had to be right, she thought. "And… Mark… Cohen…" She smiled crookedly as these two people appeared in her crystal ball, one a deceptively normal middle aged woman, and the other a young man with glasses and wild hair. But there had to be a third. Three to start with and thousands to add. "And Dinah, yes Dinah. The three of you will do beautifully. Do come to my island my dears…" There was a thunderous cackle, and the castle dissipated into the sand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinah winced and tightened her grip on Greaseball's couplers as something alarmingly bright flashed before her eyes. The light didn't go away as it should have. Instead I grew brighter, painfully brighter. It was the kind of light that seared the brain and melted gears. She wanted to cry out but couldn't. Then Greaseball wasn't there anymore…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the hell…" Mark blinked, giving his surroundings a confused stare. The congested streets of New York City were gone, swallowed up by a great flash of light. He was… he didn't know where he was. Somewhere green and sandy. It would be almost pleasant if only he knew what the hell was going on… "Roger?!" He called out his friend's name. After all, no more then a few seconds ago they had been sitting together in a run down little café… "Helllooo… is anyo…"
He was unable to finish his sentence as he was sent staggering backwards by an astounding impact. His head hit the sand, which was surprisingly hard… a perfect contrast to the surprisingly soft female who had just landed on top of him.
She seemed dazed for a moment, but then quickly slid off of him, a light pink blush creeping across her features. Mark couldn't help but stare at her, not only because she was rather attractive, but also because of her absolutely bizarre mode of dress. She looked like a waitress getting ready to attend a roller derby, with coppery brown hair and snow white roller-skates.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" She said quickly, brushing herself off, and smoothing her blue and cream checked skirt. Her voice had a rather cute southern twang to it. She got up quickly, looking at the ground below her feet as if it were some sort of vile demon. "No tracks?" She muttered under her breath. Her voice was very calm despite the look of terror that was slowly etching itself into her features.
"Greaseball!!!!!!" She suddenly yelled, more shrieked. Mark didn't know weather to laugh, run, or try to comfort her. He wasn't exactly accustomed to having pretty roller-skating girls fall into his lap and then start yelling out strange words. She was silent for a moment, as though waiting for someone to answer. "Greaseball!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She called out again, this time sounding more frightened. She carefully moved a few feet, nearly tripping as sand caught in the wheels of her skates. Mark grabbed onto her arm to steady her.
"Whoah… you might want to take those off." He said, gesturing to her skates, "Do you have any idea where we are? I'm…" He stopped, seeing that she wasn't really listening to him. Rather, she was looking down at his feet with an absolutely perplexed expression
"Where are your wheels?" She asked quietly, only after staring for a good two minutes.
"My wheels?" The girl nodded. "Well… um… I don't really have any…" Mark shook his head, and looked once again at the girl's skates, "They aren't good for traveling over sand… do you know where the heck we are?" The girl shook her head, fear creeping back into her features.
"No…" She seemed to have this talent for sounding like she was perpetually whining. "Do you?" She added. Mark shook his head.
"Great." He muttered. The girl, her eyes once again fixed on his feet, shook her head despairingly.
"I don't think it's so great. Did you just get here also?"
"Yeah, big flash of light and…"
"Same here…" Suddenly the girl looked him right in the eye, "What are you?" She asked.
"Erm… my name's Mark…" The girl didn't seem particularly satisfied with his answer. She gave him a small, polite smile.
"Yes… My name's Dinah." She curtseyed slightly "But what I meant is…" Her eyes lit up suddenly. "I get it!" She exclaimed loud enough to make Mark step back a few inches, "You're a passenger aren't you? But how did you get so big? Usually I can fit around fifty of you inside of me…" She paused just long enough for Mark to wonder if what she had just said was supposed to be some sort of strange pick up line. "I'm a dining car…" She said slowly, as if she wondered if a passenger could understand such a thing. Apparently it couldn't.
"You're a what?" Mark asked incredulously, looking Dinah over from head to skate. "Like waitress?" Dinah nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Like a train waitress…" Finally something dawned on Mark.
"You think you're a train?!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Florence yawned, and tried to pull her covers closer around her. The only problem was that there weren't any covers… or any bed for that matter. Only a vast mahogany floor stretched smoothly out beneath her. As cheap as the motel she had spent the night at was, she very clearly remembered being provided with a bed.
She opened her eyes, and entered the nightmare. She was on a huge stage, surrounded by a vast sea of plush red seats. Above her head black velvet curtains that seemed to be made of pure shadows, and were suspended by thin ropes like the sky preparing to fall on her. The only person in the audience was a single misshapen old woman.
"Good morning Florence. It's so nice to have you…" The woman gave Florence a crocked grin. Her voice was quiet, but rough like sandpaper. Florence sat bolt upright on the stage.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Were the first words out of her mouth. The old woman didn't seem overly concerned by the anger in her tone.
"I trust you'll enjoy your stay here my dear. You should find most of your… needs have been provided for." The hag had a sinister look on her face. "You mortals certainly do have interesting habits. You'll find food when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty and… other accommodations. I'll be getting your scripts to you shortly, and if you find you need anything, just call my name."
"Your name?" Was all Florence could think to say, still in a half awake stupor.
"Oh yes! I don't have one. Pity." There was a flash of purple smoke, a brief invisible shimmer of reality, and then the old woman disappeared before Florence's eyes. The empty stage stretched out imposingly behind her. For once she knew that there was truly nobody on her side.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Let me get this strait… you woke up on this stage, some woman appeared before you, said we'd be getting a script, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke?" Dinah listened to the two who called themselves Mark and Florence go over the details their abduction for what had to be the forth time. She was not a happy dining car. As if finding herself in a strange place among passengers with no tracks wasn't enough, she didn't understand half of the things they were talking about. To add to her problems, there was also the distressing fact that Greaseball most definitely wasn't anywhere in sight, or even earshot.
"Was she a passenger also?" Dinah piped in. Florence merely rolled her eyes. Dinah was beginning to get the sinking suspicion that she found her annoying. Mark nodded.
"Yeah, I guess she was." He said patiently, but not without looking at Dinah as though she had three heads. Dinah smiled. That made sense.
"I thought so!" She said triumphantly, "You see, for the most part trains try to avoid disappearing in puffs of smoke…" There was a long moment of silence in which Dinah was painfully aware of the fact that her two companions were staring at her again. "Did I say something wrong?" Florence sighed. Mark shook his head.
"No. nothing. Your fine." Mark said in a tone of exasperation. Dinah pouted and went back to listening quietly. She was feeling very outnumbered.
"This sucks." Mark said softly, looking from Florence to Dinah. Both nodded in agreement.
"This has to be a dream." Florence said, giving her arm a quick pinch. Dinah watched this quizzically.
"Only question is weather I'm dreaming or you are." Mark agreed.
"I didn't know passengers dreamed!" Dinah said, "I thought only trains did that." More exasperated stares. She'd have to learn when to stop opening her big mouth. At least nobody had told her to shut it as of yet… she hated when people told her to shut it.
She sighed and got up off the floor of the stage. She wasn't being of any use to the passengers anyway, and they certainly weren't of any use to her. They were completely off the rails, in more ways than one. Maybe if she looked around a bit more she'd find Greaseball. After all, she had been holding onto his couplings right when she disappeared. Maybe he had been brought here with her, and simply gotten misplaced along the way. Maybe he was wondering around right now, looking for her. She'd find him!
There was a convenient ramp leading on and off the stage, as if someone had been expecting her. She was glad of it. She didn't think she could manage those weird stair things that Mark and Florence had used. The two passengers continued to talk, plan, and gripe as she left, evidently paying her no attention.
She was almost out the door when something bright flashed in front of her eyes.
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Electra's eyes widened in fear, and all of her sleek black and tan fur stood on end, making her look almost fluffy. Where was she? What had happened to Etcetera and Sillabub? One moment ago she had been playing in the junkyard, and now she was standing in front of a weird looking human woman with wheels on her feet. She hissed, and ducked underneath the first object she saw, which just happened be one of many red velvet chairs.
"Is this the woman who appeared before?" The wheeled woman was asking. She started to roll over towards Electra, who hissed warningly. Electra was to scared to even wonder why she suddenly understood human speech. Another woman rushed down what appeared to be a huge stage, even bigger than the ones Gus had once performed on. She ducked under the chair to get a look at her. She was so little! Well, actually, she was the same size as Electra, but usually humans were so much bigger than she was. Other then that she was very normal, with brown hair put up in a bun, and business like apparel.
"No." The woman said, "Our evil mastermind doesn't have ears and a tail…" A human man joined the small group staring at Electra. She tried to duck further under the chair, but it was far to small for her.
"She looks almost like a cat…" The man said, in a disbelieving tone.
"A cat?" The woman asked.
"Well if that one can be a train…"
"She isn't a train. She's a mentally unstable girl in roller-skates."
"I am to a train!" A wheeled foot was stomped close enough to Electra's face to make her uneasy. She closed her eyes, trying to escape, praying to the Ever Lasting Cat to get her out of this situation, to let her wake up and go back to chasing rubber mice. The conversation raced passed her, the words to fast to catch. Harsh words, like when her humans called her a baaaaaaad kitty… but they weren't directed towards her.
"Enough!" The man shouted suddenly, sending an empty silence out across the room. "here kitty kitty kitty." He called softly, in a nice voice. Electra smiled a bit. He was using a nice voice, so things must be alright. She crept slowly out from underneath her chair. She sniffed his hand tentatively, before rubbing her head up against his chest. "That's a good kitty…" He said in the same nice voice. Electra purred.
"Something very strange is going on here." The wheeled girl commented, but everyone ignored her.
"What's your name kitty?" The man asked.
"Electra…" Electra whispered, sniffling. The man was nice, but the situation was still scary.
"I'm Mark, and these are Dinah and Florence." The man—Mark replied. "Do you know anything about how you got here?" Electra shook her head despairingly…
"I was playing with the other kittens and then…"
"This is ridiculous." Florence interrupted. Mark put a finger to his lips.
"It's okay…" He said gently, in a tone that suggested he didn't have any clue exactly what he was doing, "We'll get you back home with the other.. um.. kittens. We're all in this together now." Electra nodded. She thought she heard Florence whisper something to the effect of, 'nobodies on nobodies' side'
"Alright…" Mark said slowly, obviously frazzled, "So I guess we should go outside and look around. See where we are… or something. We can't just stay here".
"But I can't" Dinah whined in response, "The sand gets all caught in my wheels, and then I can hardly move!" Mark shook his head.
"Then take them of." Florence half suggested, half ordered. Dinah went very pale.
"Take off my wheels?" She asked horrified, "That'd hurt!" Florence shook her head.
"Then stay here." Florence said, "Wait to see if our mastermind comes."
"But I don't wanna stay here alone…" Dinah complained. Mark set a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"We won't be gone long…" He promised, "and… and maybe Electra will stay here with you?" He looked over at the cat girl, who shook her head.
"No… I want to stay with you." She nuzzled her head against Mark's arm.
"C'mon then." Florence said, starting out the door. She turned to Dinah, not unkindly, "We'll be back soon. And if you see the mastermind, try to find out as much about her as you can."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Mastermind… it was interesting the sort of names her guests were coming up with—took a dusty book down from the heights of her cluttered shelf. It was her storybook, and it was growing. Growing words, growing pages, feeding off of he characters she had brought in. Perhaps she didn't have a story, and that was why she had to borrow the stories of others. They did have stories, amazing stories that they never knew. Darkened studies where tired composers poured of their creation, ancient Operas, forgotten texts. Things that they never thought about or saw. All they knew was their own little worlds, just as all that The Mastermind knew was hers. They didn't understand the power of a pen and paper to be the tools for creation, or the power of music as the tool that brought them life. They didn't know anything.
She flew over to her magic ball, her feet light and airy. She needed more characters, rich and exciting characters to fill her storybook. She didn't need just any character though, she needed a composer, one who could give her characters new life. The ball showed such a composer, a masked angel baring a punjab lasso. He was a tortured man, capable of exquisite evil and exquisite beauty. He was a ghost, a phantom. He was her next victim.
"My dear Phantom, you are cordially invited to my island," The Mastermind cooed in a tone of sickening sweetness. Barely a second passed before a masked man was standing in front of her, his long ebony cloak flowing majestically. For a moment the man's elegant strength seemed to permeate The Mastermind's own powerful mind. Then with the smallest flash of red he began to dart away, seeming almost to fly into shadows she had never known to exist.
"Oh no you don't…" The mastermind flicked her wrist, and The Phantom was stopped dead in his tracks. He starred coldly at her. If he was afraid and confused as he must have been, his icy glare did not show such feelings. "You are here to write a musical for me…" The pitch black sockets that were The Phantom's eyes seemed to flicker with interest, for only the briefest moment.
"I will do no such thing." His voice seemed to embody all that was sinister, filling the room with stony echoes of pitch black malice. It was also soft, and beautiful, like the swan song of a fallen angel. His voice was a sublime enigma.
"Oh?" The Mastermind demanded. She walked over to her bookshelf and retrieved her magic ball. She shoved it in The Phantom's face. Reflected in it's crystalline surface was the smiling face of a beautiful young woman with a long mane of flaxen blonde hair. The Phantom put his hand to his heart.
"Christine…" The Mastermind merely smiled.
"I believe you're fairly familiar with torture chambers…" She said darkly. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the walls around her shimmered into non-existence, each replaced by a perfect life sized replica of Christine. There were four of them in all, carefree, smiling girls with pretty faces and figures. The Phantom stepped closer, in a trance, reaching out a bony hand to touch the girl's face, then stopped as if he couldn't bare to do such a thing. "It wont work anyway." The Mastermind explained. There was an ominous sound, like thunder, and one of the replica's of Christine burst, crimson blood spattering everywhere, covering the room in it's holographic non-reality. The Phantom turned away at the sight.
"It's not real." He said in an agonized growl. The Mastermind giggled.
"Exactly. It's merely an image." She bowed before him, and gestured towards the now decapitated image of Christine. "Enjoy". With that she disappeared, leaving The Phantom to watch the second image of Christine meet its macabre end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Mastermind sat comfortably in her study, with her beloved magic ball. Her manacle laughter mingled with the tortured angel's sobs echoing from the room below her, creating an apocalyptic storm that embodied all that was insane. So many characters, so little time…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ground was thick with weeds and roots around Mark's feet. It was slow going, and almost impossible to go very far without tripping. Every once and a while he'd glance back to make sure Florence was still following behind him, however slowly. He was glad they hadn't tried to bring Dinah along. She was a sweet girl, but she wasn't going to get anywhere with those skates of hers. Not that they were making it anywhere anyway. The only person moving at any speed was Electra, who apparently had the cat's ability to keep her balance on the most impossible surfaces.
"This is absurd." Florence muttered under her breath, as she narrowly avoided tripping over a root.
"Well, it's not anymore absurd than staying in the Theatre…" Mark pointed out.
"This whole situation. If it's a dream, it's certainly taking me long enough to wake up…" Silently though, Florence wondered exactly what she had to wake up to. An empty hotel room, filled only with cold knowledge and lost loves.
"I'd say I was tripping but…"
"Tripping?" Florence looked confused. Mark stumbled over a branch. Electra, a few feet in front of them, giggled.
"You are!"
"Um… what I meant was high on…" Electra smiled
"A tree?"
"Not exactly."
"A tire then?"
"Um… no…" Mark said as patiently as he could. He looked to Florence, hoping she would know what to say.
"Because sometimes tires go very high… all the way up to…" Electra explained.
"I believe he means drugs…" Electra stopped. While floating tires were not something unheard of to her, drugs were.
"Well, I don't. do them… some of my friends…"
"Your friends sound like people of low repute," Florence interrupted.
"I wouldn't say that… my friend's are people with problems, just like anyone else. What about you? What are things like where you're from?" Florence smiled wanly at this question.
"Complicated. Extremely complicated. I don't suppose you've ever been to a world championship chess competition?" Mark shook his head, "I didn't think so. That's what my life is like. If you've never played the game, you wont understand it."
"Ah .."
"Hurry up!" Electra called from somewhere far ahead of them, "You have to see this!"
"C'mon" Mark quickened his pace, moving as fast as he could considering the circumstances. His eyes widened as the woods cleared away before him, as if by magic. Suddenly he was standing on a huge beach full of snow white sand and sparkling water, a picture he'd expect to see on the front of a post card. Electra raced up to him and Florence.
"It's huge!" She exclaimed, "Just look at it! Isn't it wonderful? It's just like the ocean in Growltiger's Last Stand. Do you think there might be some pirates?"
"Apparently cat people have pirates." Florence whispered to Mark. He walked up to the water, as if in a trance. Huge waves rolled on and off of the beach, beautiful sea monsters foaming at the mouth, just waiting for their chance to swallow the beach up whole. He dipped has hand in the salty water. It felt warm and smooth against his skin.
"It is beautiful." Florence commented, coming up next to him.
"Yeah. Y'know, living in New York, sometimes I start to think that I've seen everything, that there's nothing new left. But I've never seen anything like this, ever." Florence nodded.
"It looks like we're on an island somewhere. Maybe we can set up a bonfire to alert any passing ships…" Mark nodded in agreement, but there was a slight look of doubt on his face.
"Yeah. Get the hell out of here and back where we're supposed to be."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinah sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the stage, and her head in her hands. She hated being left alone like this in a strange place. They had been gone for almost two hours now. She had already explored the little Theatre at length. It seemed that it consisted solely off the stage, the seats, and a tiny backstage area. There were also some stairs, similar to the ones that passengers used to board her, leading upwards. However, they were firmly barricaded, and Dinah didn't exactly trust her ability to climb up them anyway. The only thing left to do was wait, so Dinah waited with a growing sense of nervous impatience.
There was a soft sound from somewhere above Dinah's head, as if somebody was sobbing. Anguish and angelic beauty mingled in the sound, seeming to color the air inside the theatre with sublime emotion.
"H-hello?" Dinah called out nervously, looking at the ceiling. The crying became louder in response, surrounding her. It was the saddest sound Dinah had ever heard. "W-who's there?" No answer. Dinah curled up so her chin rested on her knees, and tried not to cry herself. The sound just kept getting louder and closer, until it was no longer crying. It was a shrieking tempest that wouldn't be silenced. Dinah closed her eyes tightly and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. Suddenly the crying went completely silent. Dinah looked up at the ceiling again, "I-is anyone up there?" She called in a terrified
voice. There was a horrible cackle, as a woman laughed maniacally, and then nothing.
There was an all to familiar shimmer, and the icy silence was replaced by a little girl with more curly red hair then Dinah had ever seen on a single head. She stood in front of Dinah for a moment, smiling through the look of disorientation on her face.
"Gee wilikers this place is big!" She exclaimed. She had a high pitched voice that seemed worn by just a bit to much sugary sweet happiness. She a stuck out her hand for Dinah to shake with such abruptness that she was taken aback. "Hiya! My name's Annie. What sort of a joint is this?" Her smile widened to the point that it was enough to make Dinah wonder if CB should try taking lessons from her. She took her hand reluctantly.
"Um… hi. I'm Dinah. I don't really know where we are but…" Dinah was unable to finish her sentence as there was another shimmer in reality—a very big shimmer. Within a few seconds the entire right side of the Theatre was taken up by a huge green plant. Dinah backed away slightly.
"Leaping Lizards!" Annie exclaimed, in a tone of excitement that made Dinah wonder exactly how lizards were relevant to the current situation. "That plant is huge!" The plant shook a tentacle like leaf.
"And it's moving…" Dinah stood up, pulling Annie away from the plant a little. The plant started laughing, an evil sound that sent shivers down Dinah's spine. Annie smiled vacantly, apparently unaffected.
"And it's got big teeth!" Annie clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh, lets go take a closer look!" Dinah looked at the plant's teeth nervously.
"Annie, I don't think…" But Annie was already rushing over towards the plant. Dinah followed quickly, trying to catch up with the very determined little girl.
"Yeah… that's right sweet thing, just a little closer…" Dinah stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the plant talk, something she was fairly certain most plants didn't do. Suddenly an arm like vine wrapped itself around Annie's leg. The little girl screamed, as she was lifted up towards the plant's gaping mouth. Dinah shot foreword like a bolt of lighting on roller-skates, and grabbed onto Annie's arm with all her might. The plant merely chuckled cruelly. There was a great crashing sound, and Dinah found herself face to pod with the giant plant. It seemed to study her intently, despite its complete lack of eyes. Then it yanked Annie out of her grasp, as easily as she could unhitch herself from an engine. He bit down hard on her, and swallowed most of her in one gulp, with a sickening slurp. A single foot fell from his mouth, landing by Dinah's wheels with a thud. A terrible puddle of red spread out around it. Dinah felt as though she might be sick.
The plant burped loudly, and licked its lips. It was then that Dinah realized that she was surrounded by vines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Phantom felt as though his heart was literally being torn from his chest. He could hardly breath, hardly see. All he could do was feel, as he watched Christine die over and over again. They were just images, holograms. They were fake, but they showed him things he never wanted to see. The logical part of his mind scolded him for his growing hysteria, but it was hard to control. He had been ill prepared for this situation. After all, it was not often that he was magically teleported out of his home and made to watch the death of his only love over and over again.
Finally, after what seemed like centuries, the images faded into nothing, leaving The Phantom alone with his racing thoughts. The silence echoed with Christine's fading screams, and The Phantom's mournful cries. Then The Mastermind appeared in front of him, and started laughing, nearly doubling over in maniacal school girl giggles.
The Phantom stood up, his cloaks swirling elegantly around him. In an instant he had resumed his façade of cold calmness, and the pain he felt existed only inside of him. He merely stared at The Mastermind as she regained herself.
"My dear Phantom…" She started
"I am not your dear Madam, and I suggest you free me immediately." The Phantom's voice was filled with quiet intensity. The unspoken threat hung in the air between them.
"Hmmm…. Well, I'm afraid that's simply not an option. Besides, I doubt you're in much of a position to protest. If I wanted to I could turn you into a spider and step on you…"
"Indeed?" The Phantom's voice was skeptical, and not even slightly afraid. Even if she could bring him to an end so easily, he thought, it might be for the best that she did that. It was difficult to dread death when one was already mostly dead.
"Indeed… though now is not the time to show you this. You'll see in time though for sure… I think you'll be very pleased with what I have in store for some of my performers…"
"I doubt that."
"Don't. I can do wonderful things for you as well. I can make you as beautiful as your voice. I can give you your Christine. Wouldn't you like that?" The Phantom was silent, "It's your dream. And you would make her happy, much more happy than he who she is with. All you would have to do is compose a musical for me. It's not difficult. Think well on that." The Mastermind made as though to walk out of the room. The Phantom's hand reached out for his Punjab lasso. It seemed to slip out of his grasp, flying into the hand of The Mastermind.
"Oh, and my dear Phantom." She cracked the lasso against the floor like a whip, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." With that she was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark heard a shrill screaming as he approached the Theatre. It sounded like Dinah. He exchanged glances with Florence, and broke into a run as the screaming became muffled. The brush around his feet obstructed their way, and only Electra was able to move quickly.
"Everlasting Cat!" He heard her calling out, "Hurry up! It's trying to eat her!" Mark quickened his pace as best as could.
"What is trying to eat her?" Florence called out, but the cat girl didn't respond. It didn't matter. They would find out soon anyway.
Mark skidded to a breathless stop by the open door of the Theatre, where a horror stricken Electra stood frozen, watching the grisly scene within. What looked like a monstrous Venus fly trap had taken over more than half the room, and it's snake like vines were stretching out even further. A pair of silvery roller-skate clad legs protruded from it's monstrous mouth, kicking wildly in a desperate and seemingly futile attempt at escape. To add to the strangeness of the situation, the plant appeared to be laughing maniacally as it tried to devour it's uncooperative feast.
Mark stood still, frozen. He didn't know what to do. He was in shock. He found himself watching Dinah's struggle with glassy eyes, as though it were some late night horror flick. Suddenly Florence handed him a sharp stick, and went racing in past him.
"Come on." She said impatiently, to his surprise running straight at the plant. He could do nothing but join her. Electra climbed up to the top of the plant, also holding a sharp stick. She pushed it furiously into the center of the pod. It seemed to try and look up, surprised if a plant could feel such an emotion. Dinah's legs still dangled from his mouth, but the struggle was getting slower. It struck Mark that there couldn't possibly be much air inside the plant's mouth.
Florence stuck her stick into what would be the plant's throat, if plants had throats. Mark struck its nose.
"Watch out!" He cried as a long vine almost wrapped itself around Florence's leg. Electra was riding the plant as though it were a bucking bronco. She tried to use her stick to pry the plant's mouth open. Mark and Florence joined this effort from below. Mark swung his stick at the plant's snout as if it were a baseball bat. Somehow he managed to cut off a sizable chunk of its leafy flesh. Whether out of surprise or pain it suddenly opened it's mouth and Dinah came tumbling out, nearly on top of Mark. He grabbed her arm. Already Florence and Electra were racing out, carefully avoiding the vines that tried to capture them in their grasp.
Dinah was wide-eyed and shaking, staring at the plant as though it were the grim reaper himself. Mark broke into a run, dragging her along with him, not at all gently. They had to get out of there. He reached the door, Dinah in tow, and turned around to see Florence using her staff to try and cut away at a thick vine that had grabbed onto Electra's tail. Finally it came loose, and the two ran for the door, hand in hand. They reached their destination, and the door slammed shut behind them, blocking the ravenous plant and its deadly tentacles. It didn't seem far enough away. Mark found himself dragging himself and Dinah into the shelter of nearby trees, plants that were far more benign than the one they had just encountered. Florence and Electra joined him breathlessly.
Mark finally had a chance to look Dinah over, who was being eerily quiet. She seemed unhurt, if a little disheveled. She was trembling violently, pale and terrified looking.
"Are you alright?" Mark asked lamely. Of course she wasn't. She had just nearly been eaten by a giant plant. Dinah's face crumbled, and her only response was a whimpering cry, that turned into a sob as Mark awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. He had never been comfortable with people crying, he could never figure out what to say or do to make them feel better. He sunk down to the ground, cradling Dinah in what he hoped was a comforting hug.
"I-it's okay…" He soothed, trying not to sound to clueless, "It's alright, you're safe now." Florence put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're doing fine." She said softly. Mark smiled at her.
"That was an amazing plan. I would have never been able to think of something that quickly." Florence gave him a wry look.
"I could tell." She paused a second, "You did a good job getting her out of there quickly." Mark grinned.
"Thanks." He said, still rocking Dinah in his arms. It was getting easier, and her trembling was becoming less pronounced. Electra got down on all fours, and gently rubbed her head up against Dinah's arm, letting out a soft purr. Florence watched this exchange, really smiling for the first time since Mark had met her.
"It was very courageous of you to climb up onto that plant Electra." Florence said. Mark nodded in agreement.
"We make a good team." He said. His companions nodded. For the first time he didn't feel like he was all alone on the island.
Notes: I've been working over three months on this piece, so if you read, please be nice and review! I'll be putting up one section a month (the first four sections are already written).
The glare of white sand shown in the bright noonday sun like the soft glow of a lone moon lost in a universe of shining saffire blue ocean water. The island's grinning crescent shape added to the effect. It was small, lonely, a vacant paradise full of palm trees and exotic birds. It was untouched by the poisoning effects of human habitation, save for one small dwelling surrounded by a dark forest of palms.
The building was a fortress, a quaint and eloquent castle. It was beautiful, in an eccentric sort of way, built out of rough gray stones, surrounded by a spider web of deep green vines. A haze of magic, so strong as to nearly be a tangible entity in itself haunted the castle like a ghost, all radiating from one single person, the island's lone inhabitant.
She had no name and an empty storybook. She knew that was important somehow, though not why. She had power to do anything she wanted to. Though she was young, very young, she had the appearance of an ancient hag, a witch. Like the entire island, she seemed to shine with a sort of inner iridescence, to soar across the psyche on the wings of a dragonfly.
Deep green eyes reflected in a small crystalline globe made of the sea, yet solid to touch. Metaphysics that defied reality, and nurtured evil were reflected in her single magic object. She could hear music, all around her, coming from within. She knew she could make this music real, if only she could find the right voices. If only she could find the right voices…
"Florence Vassey!" The name came to her suddenly, the person, the character. Anything that came that quick had to be right, she thought. "And… Mark… Cohen…" She smiled crookedly as these two people appeared in her crystal ball, one a deceptively normal middle aged woman, and the other a young man with glasses and wild hair. But there had to be a third. Three to start with and thousands to add. "And Dinah, yes Dinah. The three of you will do beautifully. Do come to my island my dears…" There was a thunderous cackle, and the castle dissipated into the sand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinah winced and tightened her grip on Greaseball's couplers as something alarmingly bright flashed before her eyes. The light didn't go away as it should have. Instead I grew brighter, painfully brighter. It was the kind of light that seared the brain and melted gears. She wanted to cry out but couldn't. Then Greaseball wasn't there anymore…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the hell…" Mark blinked, giving his surroundings a confused stare. The congested streets of New York City were gone, swallowed up by a great flash of light. He was… he didn't know where he was. Somewhere green and sandy. It would be almost pleasant if only he knew what the hell was going on… "Roger?!" He called out his friend's name. After all, no more then a few seconds ago they had been sitting together in a run down little café… "Helllooo… is anyo…"
He was unable to finish his sentence as he was sent staggering backwards by an astounding impact. His head hit the sand, which was surprisingly hard… a perfect contrast to the surprisingly soft female who had just landed on top of him.
She seemed dazed for a moment, but then quickly slid off of him, a light pink blush creeping across her features. Mark couldn't help but stare at her, not only because she was rather attractive, but also because of her absolutely bizarre mode of dress. She looked like a waitress getting ready to attend a roller derby, with coppery brown hair and snow white roller-skates.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" She said quickly, brushing herself off, and smoothing her blue and cream checked skirt. Her voice had a rather cute southern twang to it. She got up quickly, looking at the ground below her feet as if it were some sort of vile demon. "No tracks?" She muttered under her breath. Her voice was very calm despite the look of terror that was slowly etching itself into her features.
"Greaseball!!!!!!" She suddenly yelled, more shrieked. Mark didn't know weather to laugh, run, or try to comfort her. He wasn't exactly accustomed to having pretty roller-skating girls fall into his lap and then start yelling out strange words. She was silent for a moment, as though waiting for someone to answer. "Greaseball!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She called out again, this time sounding more frightened. She carefully moved a few feet, nearly tripping as sand caught in the wheels of her skates. Mark grabbed onto her arm to steady her.
"Whoah… you might want to take those off." He said, gesturing to her skates, "Do you have any idea where we are? I'm…" He stopped, seeing that she wasn't really listening to him. Rather, she was looking down at his feet with an absolutely perplexed expression
"Where are your wheels?" She asked quietly, only after staring for a good two minutes.
"My wheels?" The girl nodded. "Well… um… I don't really have any…" Mark shook his head, and looked once again at the girl's skates, "They aren't good for traveling over sand… do you know where the heck we are?" The girl shook her head, fear creeping back into her features.
"No…" She seemed to have this talent for sounding like she was perpetually whining. "Do you?" She added. Mark shook his head.
"Great." He muttered. The girl, her eyes once again fixed on his feet, shook her head despairingly.
"I don't think it's so great. Did you just get here also?"
"Yeah, big flash of light and…"
"Same here…" Suddenly the girl looked him right in the eye, "What are you?" She asked.
"Erm… my name's Mark…" The girl didn't seem particularly satisfied with his answer. She gave him a small, polite smile.
"Yes… My name's Dinah." She curtseyed slightly "But what I meant is…" Her eyes lit up suddenly. "I get it!" She exclaimed loud enough to make Mark step back a few inches, "You're a passenger aren't you? But how did you get so big? Usually I can fit around fifty of you inside of me…" She paused just long enough for Mark to wonder if what she had just said was supposed to be some sort of strange pick up line. "I'm a dining car…" She said slowly, as if she wondered if a passenger could understand such a thing. Apparently it couldn't.
"You're a what?" Mark asked incredulously, looking Dinah over from head to skate. "Like waitress?" Dinah nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Like a train waitress…" Finally something dawned on Mark.
"You think you're a train?!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Florence yawned, and tried to pull her covers closer around her. The only problem was that there weren't any covers… or any bed for that matter. Only a vast mahogany floor stretched smoothly out beneath her. As cheap as the motel she had spent the night at was, she very clearly remembered being provided with a bed.
She opened her eyes, and entered the nightmare. She was on a huge stage, surrounded by a vast sea of plush red seats. Above her head black velvet curtains that seemed to be made of pure shadows, and were suspended by thin ropes like the sky preparing to fall on her. The only person in the audience was a single misshapen old woman.
"Good morning Florence. It's so nice to have you…" The woman gave Florence a crocked grin. Her voice was quiet, but rough like sandpaper. Florence sat bolt upright on the stage.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Were the first words out of her mouth. The old woman didn't seem overly concerned by the anger in her tone.
"I trust you'll enjoy your stay here my dear. You should find most of your… needs have been provided for." The hag had a sinister look on her face. "You mortals certainly do have interesting habits. You'll find food when you're hungry, drink when you're thirsty and… other accommodations. I'll be getting your scripts to you shortly, and if you find you need anything, just call my name."
"Your name?" Was all Florence could think to say, still in a half awake stupor.
"Oh yes! I don't have one. Pity." There was a flash of purple smoke, a brief invisible shimmer of reality, and then the old woman disappeared before Florence's eyes. The empty stage stretched out imposingly behind her. For once she knew that there was truly nobody on her side.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Let me get this strait… you woke up on this stage, some woman appeared before you, said we'd be getting a script, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke?" Dinah listened to the two who called themselves Mark and Florence go over the details their abduction for what had to be the forth time. She was not a happy dining car. As if finding herself in a strange place among passengers with no tracks wasn't enough, she didn't understand half of the things they were talking about. To add to her problems, there was also the distressing fact that Greaseball most definitely wasn't anywhere in sight, or even earshot.
"Was she a passenger also?" Dinah piped in. Florence merely rolled her eyes. Dinah was beginning to get the sinking suspicion that she found her annoying. Mark nodded.
"Yeah, I guess she was." He said patiently, but not without looking at Dinah as though she had three heads. Dinah smiled. That made sense.
"I thought so!" She said triumphantly, "You see, for the most part trains try to avoid disappearing in puffs of smoke…" There was a long moment of silence in which Dinah was painfully aware of the fact that her two companions were staring at her again. "Did I say something wrong?" Florence sighed. Mark shook his head.
"No. nothing. Your fine." Mark said in a tone of exasperation. Dinah pouted and went back to listening quietly. She was feeling very outnumbered.
"This sucks." Mark said softly, looking from Florence to Dinah. Both nodded in agreement.
"This has to be a dream." Florence said, giving her arm a quick pinch. Dinah watched this quizzically.
"Only question is weather I'm dreaming or you are." Mark agreed.
"I didn't know passengers dreamed!" Dinah said, "I thought only trains did that." More exasperated stares. She'd have to learn when to stop opening her big mouth. At least nobody had told her to shut it as of yet… she hated when people told her to shut it.
She sighed and got up off the floor of the stage. She wasn't being of any use to the passengers anyway, and they certainly weren't of any use to her. They were completely off the rails, in more ways than one. Maybe if she looked around a bit more she'd find Greaseball. After all, she had been holding onto his couplings right when she disappeared. Maybe he had been brought here with her, and simply gotten misplaced along the way. Maybe he was wondering around right now, looking for her. She'd find him!
There was a convenient ramp leading on and off the stage, as if someone had been expecting her. She was glad of it. She didn't think she could manage those weird stair things that Mark and Florence had used. The two passengers continued to talk, plan, and gripe as she left, evidently paying her no attention.
She was almost out the door when something bright flashed in front of her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Electra's eyes widened in fear, and all of her sleek black and tan fur stood on end, making her look almost fluffy. Where was she? What had happened to Etcetera and Sillabub? One moment ago she had been playing in the junkyard, and now she was standing in front of a weird looking human woman with wheels on her feet. She hissed, and ducked underneath the first object she saw, which just happened be one of many red velvet chairs.
"Is this the woman who appeared before?" The wheeled woman was asking. She started to roll over towards Electra, who hissed warningly. Electra was to scared to even wonder why she suddenly understood human speech. Another woman rushed down what appeared to be a huge stage, even bigger than the ones Gus had once performed on. She ducked under the chair to get a look at her. She was so little! Well, actually, she was the same size as Electra, but usually humans were so much bigger than she was. Other then that she was very normal, with brown hair put up in a bun, and business like apparel.
"No." The woman said, "Our evil mastermind doesn't have ears and a tail…" A human man joined the small group staring at Electra. She tried to duck further under the chair, but it was far to small for her.
"She looks almost like a cat…" The man said, in a disbelieving tone.
"A cat?" The woman asked.
"Well if that one can be a train…"
"She isn't a train. She's a mentally unstable girl in roller-skates."
"I am to a train!" A wheeled foot was stomped close enough to Electra's face to make her uneasy. She closed her eyes, trying to escape, praying to the Ever Lasting Cat to get her out of this situation, to let her wake up and go back to chasing rubber mice. The conversation raced passed her, the words to fast to catch. Harsh words, like when her humans called her a baaaaaaad kitty… but they weren't directed towards her.
"Enough!" The man shouted suddenly, sending an empty silence out across the room. "here kitty kitty kitty." He called softly, in a nice voice. Electra smiled a bit. He was using a nice voice, so things must be alright. She crept slowly out from underneath her chair. She sniffed his hand tentatively, before rubbing her head up against his chest. "That's a good kitty…" He said in the same nice voice. Electra purred.
"Something very strange is going on here." The wheeled girl commented, but everyone ignored her.
"What's your name kitty?" The man asked.
"Electra…" Electra whispered, sniffling. The man was nice, but the situation was still scary.
"I'm Mark, and these are Dinah and Florence." The man—Mark replied. "Do you know anything about how you got here?" Electra shook her head despairingly…
"I was playing with the other kittens and then…"
"This is ridiculous." Florence interrupted. Mark put a finger to his lips.
"It's okay…" He said gently, in a tone that suggested he didn't have any clue exactly what he was doing, "We'll get you back home with the other.. um.. kittens. We're all in this together now." Electra nodded. She thought she heard Florence whisper something to the effect of, 'nobodies on nobodies' side'
"Alright…" Mark said slowly, obviously frazzled, "So I guess we should go outside and look around. See where we are… or something. We can't just stay here".
"But I can't" Dinah whined in response, "The sand gets all caught in my wheels, and then I can hardly move!" Mark shook his head.
"Then take them of." Florence half suggested, half ordered. Dinah went very pale.
"Take off my wheels?" She asked horrified, "That'd hurt!" Florence shook her head.
"Then stay here." Florence said, "Wait to see if our mastermind comes."
"But I don't wanna stay here alone…" Dinah complained. Mark set a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"We won't be gone long…" He promised, "and… and maybe Electra will stay here with you?" He looked over at the cat girl, who shook her head.
"No… I want to stay with you." She nuzzled her head against Mark's arm.
"C'mon then." Florence said, starting out the door. She turned to Dinah, not unkindly, "We'll be back soon. And if you see the mastermind, try to find out as much about her as you can."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Mastermind… it was interesting the sort of names her guests were coming up with—took a dusty book down from the heights of her cluttered shelf. It was her storybook, and it was growing. Growing words, growing pages, feeding off of he characters she had brought in. Perhaps she didn't have a story, and that was why she had to borrow the stories of others. They did have stories, amazing stories that they never knew. Darkened studies where tired composers poured of their creation, ancient Operas, forgotten texts. Things that they never thought about or saw. All they knew was their own little worlds, just as all that The Mastermind knew was hers. They didn't understand the power of a pen and paper to be the tools for creation, or the power of music as the tool that brought them life. They didn't know anything.
She flew over to her magic ball, her feet light and airy. She needed more characters, rich and exciting characters to fill her storybook. She didn't need just any character though, she needed a composer, one who could give her characters new life. The ball showed such a composer, a masked angel baring a punjab lasso. He was a tortured man, capable of exquisite evil and exquisite beauty. He was a ghost, a phantom. He was her next victim.
"My dear Phantom, you are cordially invited to my island," The Mastermind cooed in a tone of sickening sweetness. Barely a second passed before a masked man was standing in front of her, his long ebony cloak flowing majestically. For a moment the man's elegant strength seemed to permeate The Mastermind's own powerful mind. Then with the smallest flash of red he began to dart away, seeming almost to fly into shadows she had never known to exist.
"Oh no you don't…" The mastermind flicked her wrist, and The Phantom was stopped dead in his tracks. He starred coldly at her. If he was afraid and confused as he must have been, his icy glare did not show such feelings. "You are here to write a musical for me…" The pitch black sockets that were The Phantom's eyes seemed to flicker with interest, for only the briefest moment.
"I will do no such thing." His voice seemed to embody all that was sinister, filling the room with stony echoes of pitch black malice. It was also soft, and beautiful, like the swan song of a fallen angel. His voice was a sublime enigma.
"Oh?" The Mastermind demanded. She walked over to her bookshelf and retrieved her magic ball. She shoved it in The Phantom's face. Reflected in it's crystalline surface was the smiling face of a beautiful young woman with a long mane of flaxen blonde hair. The Phantom put his hand to his heart.
"Christine…" The Mastermind merely smiled.
"I believe you're fairly familiar with torture chambers…" She said darkly. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the walls around her shimmered into non-existence, each replaced by a perfect life sized replica of Christine. There were four of them in all, carefree, smiling girls with pretty faces and figures. The Phantom stepped closer, in a trance, reaching out a bony hand to touch the girl's face, then stopped as if he couldn't bare to do such a thing. "It wont work anyway." The Mastermind explained. There was an ominous sound, like thunder, and one of the replica's of Christine burst, crimson blood spattering everywhere, covering the room in it's holographic non-reality. The Phantom turned away at the sight.
"It's not real." He said in an agonized growl. The Mastermind giggled.
"Exactly. It's merely an image." She bowed before him, and gestured towards the now decapitated image of Christine. "Enjoy". With that she disappeared, leaving The Phantom to watch the second image of Christine meet its macabre end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Mastermind sat comfortably in her study, with her beloved magic ball. Her manacle laughter mingled with the tortured angel's sobs echoing from the room below her, creating an apocalyptic storm that embodied all that was insane. So many characters, so little time…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ground was thick with weeds and roots around Mark's feet. It was slow going, and almost impossible to go very far without tripping. Every once and a while he'd glance back to make sure Florence was still following behind him, however slowly. He was glad they hadn't tried to bring Dinah along. She was a sweet girl, but she wasn't going to get anywhere with those skates of hers. Not that they were making it anywhere anyway. The only person moving at any speed was Electra, who apparently had the cat's ability to keep her balance on the most impossible surfaces.
"This is absurd." Florence muttered under her breath, as she narrowly avoided tripping over a root.
"Well, it's not anymore absurd than staying in the Theatre…" Mark pointed out.
"This whole situation. If it's a dream, it's certainly taking me long enough to wake up…" Silently though, Florence wondered exactly what she had to wake up to. An empty hotel room, filled only with cold knowledge and lost loves.
"I'd say I was tripping but…"
"Tripping?" Florence looked confused. Mark stumbled over a branch. Electra, a few feet in front of them, giggled.
"You are!"
"Um… what I meant was high on…" Electra smiled
"A tree?"
"Not exactly."
"A tire then?"
"Um… no…" Mark said as patiently as he could. He looked to Florence, hoping she would know what to say.
"Because sometimes tires go very high… all the way up to…" Electra explained.
"I believe he means drugs…" Electra stopped. While floating tires were not something unheard of to her, drugs were.
"Well, I don't. do them… some of my friends…"
"Your friends sound like people of low repute," Florence interrupted.
"I wouldn't say that… my friend's are people with problems, just like anyone else. What about you? What are things like where you're from?" Florence smiled wanly at this question.
"Complicated. Extremely complicated. I don't suppose you've ever been to a world championship chess competition?" Mark shook his head, "I didn't think so. That's what my life is like. If you've never played the game, you wont understand it."
"Ah .."
"Hurry up!" Electra called from somewhere far ahead of them, "You have to see this!"
"C'mon" Mark quickened his pace, moving as fast as he could considering the circumstances. His eyes widened as the woods cleared away before him, as if by magic. Suddenly he was standing on a huge beach full of snow white sand and sparkling water, a picture he'd expect to see on the front of a post card. Electra raced up to him and Florence.
"It's huge!" She exclaimed, "Just look at it! Isn't it wonderful? It's just like the ocean in Growltiger's Last Stand. Do you think there might be some pirates?"
"Apparently cat people have pirates." Florence whispered to Mark. He walked up to the water, as if in a trance. Huge waves rolled on and off of the beach, beautiful sea monsters foaming at the mouth, just waiting for their chance to swallow the beach up whole. He dipped has hand in the salty water. It felt warm and smooth against his skin.
"It is beautiful." Florence commented, coming up next to him.
"Yeah. Y'know, living in New York, sometimes I start to think that I've seen everything, that there's nothing new left. But I've never seen anything like this, ever." Florence nodded.
"It looks like we're on an island somewhere. Maybe we can set up a bonfire to alert any passing ships…" Mark nodded in agreement, but there was a slight look of doubt on his face.
"Yeah. Get the hell out of here and back where we're supposed to be."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinah sat with her legs dangling off the edge of the stage, and her head in her hands. She hated being left alone like this in a strange place. They had been gone for almost two hours now. She had already explored the little Theatre at length. It seemed that it consisted solely off the stage, the seats, and a tiny backstage area. There were also some stairs, similar to the ones that passengers used to board her, leading upwards. However, they were firmly barricaded, and Dinah didn't exactly trust her ability to climb up them anyway. The only thing left to do was wait, so Dinah waited with a growing sense of nervous impatience.
There was a soft sound from somewhere above Dinah's head, as if somebody was sobbing. Anguish and angelic beauty mingled in the sound, seeming to color the air inside the theatre with sublime emotion.
"H-hello?" Dinah called out nervously, looking at the ceiling. The crying became louder in response, surrounding her. It was the saddest sound Dinah had ever heard. "W-who's there?" No answer. Dinah curled up so her chin rested on her knees, and tried not to cry herself. The sound just kept getting louder and closer, until it was no longer crying. It was a shrieking tempest that wouldn't be silenced. Dinah closed her eyes tightly and tried to imagine she was somewhere else. Suddenly the crying went completely silent. Dinah looked up at the ceiling again, "I-is anyone up there?" She called in a terrified
voice. There was a horrible cackle, as a woman laughed maniacally, and then nothing.
There was an all to familiar shimmer, and the icy silence was replaced by a little girl with more curly red hair then Dinah had ever seen on a single head. She stood in front of Dinah for a moment, smiling through the look of disorientation on her face.
"Gee wilikers this place is big!" She exclaimed. She had a high pitched voice that seemed worn by just a bit to much sugary sweet happiness. She a stuck out her hand for Dinah to shake with such abruptness that she was taken aback. "Hiya! My name's Annie. What sort of a joint is this?" Her smile widened to the point that it was enough to make Dinah wonder if CB should try taking lessons from her. She took her hand reluctantly.
"Um… hi. I'm Dinah. I don't really know where we are but…" Dinah was unable to finish her sentence as there was another shimmer in reality—a very big shimmer. Within a few seconds the entire right side of the Theatre was taken up by a huge green plant. Dinah backed away slightly.
"Leaping Lizards!" Annie exclaimed, in a tone of excitement that made Dinah wonder exactly how lizards were relevant to the current situation. "That plant is huge!" The plant shook a tentacle like leaf.
"And it's moving…" Dinah stood up, pulling Annie away from the plant a little. The plant started laughing, an evil sound that sent shivers down Dinah's spine. Annie smiled vacantly, apparently unaffected.
"And it's got big teeth!" Annie clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh, lets go take a closer look!" Dinah looked at the plant's teeth nervously.
"Annie, I don't think…" But Annie was already rushing over towards the plant. Dinah followed quickly, trying to catch up with the very determined little girl.
"Yeah… that's right sweet thing, just a little closer…" Dinah stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the plant talk, something she was fairly certain most plants didn't do. Suddenly an arm like vine wrapped itself around Annie's leg. The little girl screamed, as she was lifted up towards the plant's gaping mouth. Dinah shot foreword like a bolt of lighting on roller-skates, and grabbed onto Annie's arm with all her might. The plant merely chuckled cruelly. There was a great crashing sound, and Dinah found herself face to pod with the giant plant. It seemed to study her intently, despite its complete lack of eyes. Then it yanked Annie out of her grasp, as easily as she could unhitch herself from an engine. He bit down hard on her, and swallowed most of her in one gulp, with a sickening slurp. A single foot fell from his mouth, landing by Dinah's wheels with a thud. A terrible puddle of red spread out around it. Dinah felt as though she might be sick.
The plant burped loudly, and licked its lips. It was then that Dinah realized that she was surrounded by vines.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Phantom felt as though his heart was literally being torn from his chest. He could hardly breath, hardly see. All he could do was feel, as he watched Christine die over and over again. They were just images, holograms. They were fake, but they showed him things he never wanted to see. The logical part of his mind scolded him for his growing hysteria, but it was hard to control. He had been ill prepared for this situation. After all, it was not often that he was magically teleported out of his home and made to watch the death of his only love over and over again.
Finally, after what seemed like centuries, the images faded into nothing, leaving The Phantom alone with his racing thoughts. The silence echoed with Christine's fading screams, and The Phantom's mournful cries. Then The Mastermind appeared in front of him, and started laughing, nearly doubling over in maniacal school girl giggles.
The Phantom stood up, his cloaks swirling elegantly around him. In an instant he had resumed his façade of cold calmness, and the pain he felt existed only inside of him. He merely stared at The Mastermind as she regained herself.
"My dear Phantom…" She started
"I am not your dear Madam, and I suggest you free me immediately." The Phantom's voice was filled with quiet intensity. The unspoken threat hung in the air between them.
"Hmmm…. Well, I'm afraid that's simply not an option. Besides, I doubt you're in much of a position to protest. If I wanted to I could turn you into a spider and step on you…"
"Indeed?" The Phantom's voice was skeptical, and not even slightly afraid. Even if she could bring him to an end so easily, he thought, it might be for the best that she did that. It was difficult to dread death when one was already mostly dead.
"Indeed… though now is not the time to show you this. You'll see in time though for sure… I think you'll be very pleased with what I have in store for some of my performers…"
"I doubt that."
"Don't. I can do wonderful things for you as well. I can make you as beautiful as your voice. I can give you your Christine. Wouldn't you like that?" The Phantom was silent, "It's your dream. And you would make her happy, much more happy than he who she is with. All you would have to do is compose a musical for me. It's not difficult. Think well on that." The Mastermind made as though to walk out of the room. The Phantom's hand reached out for his Punjab lasso. It seemed to slip out of his grasp, flying into the hand of The Mastermind.
"Oh, and my dear Phantom." She cracked the lasso against the floor like a whip, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." With that she was gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark heard a shrill screaming as he approached the Theatre. It sounded like Dinah. He exchanged glances with Florence, and broke into a run as the screaming became muffled. The brush around his feet obstructed their way, and only Electra was able to move quickly.
"Everlasting Cat!" He heard her calling out, "Hurry up! It's trying to eat her!" Mark quickened his pace as best as could.
"What is trying to eat her?" Florence called out, but the cat girl didn't respond. It didn't matter. They would find out soon anyway.
Mark skidded to a breathless stop by the open door of the Theatre, where a horror stricken Electra stood frozen, watching the grisly scene within. What looked like a monstrous Venus fly trap had taken over more than half the room, and it's snake like vines were stretching out even further. A pair of silvery roller-skate clad legs protruded from it's monstrous mouth, kicking wildly in a desperate and seemingly futile attempt at escape. To add to the strangeness of the situation, the plant appeared to be laughing maniacally as it tried to devour it's uncooperative feast.
Mark stood still, frozen. He didn't know what to do. He was in shock. He found himself watching Dinah's struggle with glassy eyes, as though it were some late night horror flick. Suddenly Florence handed him a sharp stick, and went racing in past him.
"Come on." She said impatiently, to his surprise running straight at the plant. He could do nothing but join her. Electra climbed up to the top of the plant, also holding a sharp stick. She pushed it furiously into the center of the pod. It seemed to try and look up, surprised if a plant could feel such an emotion. Dinah's legs still dangled from his mouth, but the struggle was getting slower. It struck Mark that there couldn't possibly be much air inside the plant's mouth.
Florence stuck her stick into what would be the plant's throat, if plants had throats. Mark struck its nose.
"Watch out!" He cried as a long vine almost wrapped itself around Florence's leg. Electra was riding the plant as though it were a bucking bronco. She tried to use her stick to pry the plant's mouth open. Mark and Florence joined this effort from below. Mark swung his stick at the plant's snout as if it were a baseball bat. Somehow he managed to cut off a sizable chunk of its leafy flesh. Whether out of surprise or pain it suddenly opened it's mouth and Dinah came tumbling out, nearly on top of Mark. He grabbed her arm. Already Florence and Electra were racing out, carefully avoiding the vines that tried to capture them in their grasp.
Dinah was wide-eyed and shaking, staring at the plant as though it were the grim reaper himself. Mark broke into a run, dragging her along with him, not at all gently. They had to get out of there. He reached the door, Dinah in tow, and turned around to see Florence using her staff to try and cut away at a thick vine that had grabbed onto Electra's tail. Finally it came loose, and the two ran for the door, hand in hand. They reached their destination, and the door slammed shut behind them, blocking the ravenous plant and its deadly tentacles. It didn't seem far enough away. Mark found himself dragging himself and Dinah into the shelter of nearby trees, plants that were far more benign than the one they had just encountered. Florence and Electra joined him breathlessly.
Mark finally had a chance to look Dinah over, who was being eerily quiet. She seemed unhurt, if a little disheveled. She was trembling violently, pale and terrified looking.
"Are you alright?" Mark asked lamely. Of course she wasn't. She had just nearly been eaten by a giant plant. Dinah's face crumbled, and her only response was a whimpering cry, that turned into a sob as Mark awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. He had never been comfortable with people crying, he could never figure out what to say or do to make them feel better. He sunk down to the ground, cradling Dinah in what he hoped was a comforting hug.
"I-it's okay…" He soothed, trying not to sound to clueless, "It's alright, you're safe now." Florence put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're doing fine." She said softly. Mark smiled at her.
"That was an amazing plan. I would have never been able to think of something that quickly." Florence gave him a wry look.
"I could tell." She paused a second, "You did a good job getting her out of there quickly." Mark grinned.
"Thanks." He said, still rocking Dinah in his arms. It was getting easier, and her trembling was becoming less pronounced. Electra got down on all fours, and gently rubbed her head up against Dinah's arm, letting out a soft purr. Florence watched this exchange, really smiling for the first time since Mark had met her.
"It was very courageous of you to climb up onto that plant Electra." Florence said. Mark nodded in agreement.
"We make a good team." He said. His companions nodded. For the first time he didn't feel like he was all alone on the island.