DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING YOU RECOGNIZE.
Okay, so I decided to post this for two reasons:
One, it's insanely short.
Two, I want to see if anyone can guess what story this little chapter is based around, because you'll see a lot more of these particular characters later. (hint hint)
Also, this is actually my most recent piece of work done with this book, so, in my opinion, it's the best work in this story so far. It isn't the most recent chapter, however. I've written up to chapter 24 as of now. (but I'm going to make you wait because I'm such a cruel person muhahaha)
Well,
ANYWAYS.
I just wanted to thank everyone for all of the incredible feedback.
You guys make my life complete.
Enjoy.
Chapter Nine
Unwanted Visitors
Pure and utter chaos erupted behind me and I sighed, turning around in the shadows and surveying the staff of the opera house who were busy tying up sandbags and whatnot.
Tonight the house was full, and music from the favorite Don Giovanni was ringing through the opera house above me.
I had decided to visit the staff who work under the stage throughout the entire performance for once.
I stood, covered in shadows, unmoving and silent. I store at the scene around me, feeling a smile creep across my lips behind my mask. The opera was really a well oiled machine, and I felt slightly pained upon realizing that Erik and I weren't efficient parts of it, but rather destructive.
A man whom I had never seen before was leaning against a wall directly across from me, puffing on what appeared to be a self rolled cigarette. He had sharp, beady eyes, and a scruffy golden beard. His head was covered by a cap, partially shielding his eyes.
He definitely wasn't an employee.
He appeared to be the only man who wasn't working, though.
He must be waiting for someone...I thought. I shrugged mentally. No matter. I decided to let history take its course. So what if not confronting the strange man led to dire consequences? So what if it led to the death of a few people, whom I didn't know. It was better that I didn't get involved. Besides, what if he were here on friendly terms? Unlikely. The smoke smells odd, not a normal cigarette. Not normal tobacco. This man traveled. Perhaps he was a sailor. Perhaps he was a soldier. His eyes were calculating, quick, seeing everything and zeroing in on the bustle effortlessly. The eyes of a sniper.
"You know, they say gray eyed men make the best snipers." I said, not really knowing what had possessed me to speak up. The man blinked a few times, his eyes widening.
"Alright, who's there?" He asked, his eyes narrowing,
I opened my mouth to answer when a train of unfamiliar faces walked between the man and I. The leader, seeming determined and more confident than the less, walking at a brisk pace.
This is...odd.
The man walking behind him, looking tired and worn out but obviously relying and trusting the man ahead of him.
A woman, shorter than I, was last in line, and I felt my blood boil at the sight of her.
"Gypsy." I spat, and the woman froze, staring straight ahead of her.
The man directly before her slowed down, looking behind him and gesturing to her. After a few seconds, the gypsy continued walking, her eyes flashing around nervously.
The mysterious sniper was scowling at the band of unfamiliar guests before taking a puff on his cigarette and walking away, completely silent.
I sighed, and, curiosity peaked, crept in the direction of the others. I felt my skin tingle as I heard someone's jaw snap, followed by rustling and struggling.
Sure enough, the staff were attempting to confront the visitors, but to no avail.
The man with near raven colored hair, who was still leading the band of guests, was simply ignoring the staff, where as the man behind him was beating the life out of the employees who were attempting to stop them.
I shrugged and walked out of the shadows, knowing no one would pay attention to me with that commotion.
The first man was climbing up into the bottom of the trapdoor which had been converted into something akin to an elevator shaft to fit the production of Don Giovanni.
I frowned and knit my eyebrows together.
Is he completely insane? I thought, shaking my head lightly and sighing.
A few minutes later, he turned, probably sensing me as I store at him.
We made eye contact.
He looked exhausted, unshaven stubble covering his chin and jaw, bags beneath his round, chocolate colored eyes. His hair was wavy and tollused.
He didn't seem disconcerted with my presence at all, though, which I found rather puzzling. He blinked a few times, and realizing I wasn't going to say anything, climbed up onto the stage from beneath the elevated platform.
I sighed once again and turned, walking back towards the shadows.
What a peculiar man...
Short and sweet.
Reviews are loved, and I'm baking virtual chocolate chip cookies for everyone to express my gratitude.
