I do not own Xiaolin Showdown, I also would like to say that this will be inspired by "The Phantom of the Opera" but not follow exactly... hope you like it, and this is me, pimpin' by review button XD.
Muted light from the large chandelier poured through the theater, causing shadows to spill across the deeply intricate paintings of cherubs on the ceiling and giving the room a gloomy and almost sinister allure. A young man of 17 glanced up at the cherubs and smiled lightly and glanced back down to the script sitting lightly on his lap. The director glanced down at the boy, a smile pasted onto his frog-like face. The director was a squat man of his late fifties with graying hair and beady black eyes. This man had once been the top director in the country but was tossed from his pedestal after a string of failing plays, causing him to be forced to work in what he considered a farce of a theater.
"Monsieur Spicer!" The youth glanced up at the man, wishing to every god he knew of that the man would get struck by lightning or something equally as satisfying and painful. "Monsieur, you have no need to yell, I assure you I have no problem with hearing." The director pasted that sickening smile back onto his livery lips and bowed mockingly, "Of course, anything for the owner's son. The cracks in his facade were pouring out cynicism as Jack stared at him, his eyebrow quirking. "Sssiirr," He drew out the syllables in his weaseling voice, "I don't understand, why do you not like the play? I wrote it especially for this theater you know." Jack sighed heavily, tossing the horribly written script to the director's feet.
"Monsieur L'Sharpe, that is exactly why. I cannot bear to have the poorly written garbage of a washed up director spewed across the stage. I have decided that you will do a production of a play of my choosing. I will give the script to you by the end of the week." Jack stood, pulling on the coal black frock coat so well known around the town that anyone could spot him a mile away, if they didn't notice his coloring first. Jack's skin had a milky white pallor and his hair and eyes the color of blood. A man of French descent, he was the child of Harold and Celene Spicer of Spicer Trading Co.
L'Sharpe began to sweat profusely, his eyes flicking to and fro in his attempt to figure a plan to have his production go on. Critics were going to be at the next show and he promised them a come back by the great L'Sharpe, this little freak knew nothing of the stage he was sure. "Monsieur, I assure you, my play is what the peasants want!"
Jack stared coldly at the squat little man, "And I assure you sir, that your play is THE worst play I have ever read, in fact, you're fired." With that, Jack strode down the aisle all the way to the back of the theater, through the curtained doorway and into the lobby. L'Sharpe wheezed wildly, almost having to run to keep up with the Spicer heirs long strides, "But Sir! I am one of the most esteemed directors in the entirety of France! Many theaters would be banging down my door to attempt to have me be the director of even one of their productions! You cannot do this, you're just the son of the owner of the theater!" Jack turned sharply, his hand resting on the handle of the door. "I assure you," Jack began, his voice dripping with venom, "that I am perfectly capable of firing someone as lowly as you. You were one of the most esteemed directors in France, what you are now is an irritating little toady that my father should have gotten rid of ages ago. Also, you silly little man, I am the owner now."
L'Sharpe panicked, scrambling in his mind for if only one reason that Spicer couldn't get rid of him. He inwardly gasped, he knew what to say. A small smirk slithered across his face, and he pompously began, "The Opera Ghost left the former owners a letter saying nothing would be changed without his express permission!" Clearly he thought he had won. Jack reared up to his full impressive height of 6 feet 10 inches. "To be frank sir, I am sure that this...what did you call it? This Opera Ghost would agree wholeheartedly with my decision." Jack shoved the door open. "Now you may leave and never darken the doorways of my theater ever again." Jack could clearly see the outline of L'Sharpe's veins in his forehead and the popping arteries of his neck. Finally fed up, the director stormed out the door shouting at the top of his lungs how Jack would regret ever hearing the name of the great L'Sharpe and how he would be sorry.
Jack sighed, happy to have the entirety of that business taken care of and thankful that he would be able to return to his mansion on first avenue, he had several small projects to attend to. He stepped out of the theater, breathing in the cool night air and let it revitalize his senses. He loved the end of autumn. Jack glanced back for a moment at the impressive building, "Opera Ghost hmm?" A small smile graced his full pink lips as he walked away, maybe having this theater wouldn't be so boring after all.
Edit* I realize that the first chapter is WAAAY too short, and as I read it over realized that a theater doesn't have a sky light *sweatdrop*. Just went through and fixed some mistakes, lengthened the chapter a bit, and made it historically correct and such. Hope you like it a bit better XD.