A/N: Thank you Danielle for your continued support. I appreciate all of it! =) Hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Standing out in the hall, Flynn ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He could still hear the performance continuing on, though it was muffled through the walls that separated them. The door to the box opened and Bell slipped out. He cocked his head at Flynn. "Is everything all right?"
Flynn gave him a curt nod, standing straighter. "I'm fine. I simply needed a moment."
Bell's eyes narrowed on him. "It's quite the performance, is it not?" Flynn nodded and Bell added, "Ye relate to the words."
Flynn knew it wasn't a question but a statement. He could see that Bell had figured more about his personal demons than the ones he lived with at the bunker had. He opened his mouth to retort when movement down the far hall caught his attention.
Bell glanced over and spotted a dark figure disappearing into a workers' corridor. He turned his attention back to Flynn, thinking nothing of it until he saw Flynn's concentrated gaze. "What is it?"
Flynn held a hand out to silently tell Bell to remain where he was as he began to make his way over to the corridor. He heard footsteps clicking behind him and Flynn fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing Bell didn't stay put as he instructed. He stopped by the door the man had darted into and pulled it open. He glanced inside carefully, seeing nothing but a long dark hallway with small lights illuminating through windows.
"It's probably a stagehand," Bell offered.
Flynn shook his head. "It didn't look like one…"
"What did he look like?"
Flynn glanced over his shoulder to look at Bell, who clearly hadn't gotten a good look at the figure. Flynn knew if Bell had seen the man, he would have been the first to offer going down the hallway in pursuit. "He had a long cloak over his head," Flynn stated. "I didn't get a good look at him."
Bell's brows knitted together. "Why would a stage hand wear a cloak?" He motioned to the opened door. "Perhaps we should take a look to ease your curiosity."
Without arguing, Flynn entered into the corridor; Bell close behind him. They navigated the darkened corridor together. The singing grew louder. The two realized they were entering the overlook of the dome to the auditorium. They had an eagle's eye view of the whole audience with clear sightlines of the stage where Christina Nilsson remained centered as they glanced through small porthole windows that lined the darkened corridor.
A bright light to their right illuminated the dark corridor briefly before the sound of a door closing brought the darkness back, causing them both to glance over their shoulders. "Looks like we've found our culprit," Bell whispered to Flynn with a pat on the back.
Flynn led the way along the catwalk toward the door. Reaching for the handle, he found that it was locked. Bell muttered, "How odd that he would lock himself out."
As the two turned to exchange glances, horrified screams erupted within the auditorium. They rushed over to the porthole windows, staring down at the audience. The crowds below were scrambling out of their seats, running down the packed aisles to escape the room. The massive crystal chandelier started to shake, the crystals rattling against one another before it broke off of its line, falling straight for the stage.
Christina Nilsson bent down, scooping her skirts up to rush away as quickly as she could. The glass and candle chandelier swung down, breaking the ornate ceiling overhead as it crashed. The candles fell, igniting the wooden stage. Stagehands rushed out from behind the side curtains to put the flames out.
Within the corridor Flynn and Bell stood in, they heard another scream from inside their hallway. They turned and rushed toward the sounds. Rounding the corner into another large stage room, an extra from the show cowered in the distant corner as they approached. Their eyes landed on the weight that held the chandelier up. Beneath the seven-ton weight, they spotted a pair of legs sticking out. Blood pooled out across the splintered wood floor, creating a river of crimson as it poured down the seams of the floorboards.
Bell comforted the horrified woman, trying to get her to tell him what she saw through her uncontrollable sobs. Flynn scanned the area, looking for their assailant. He noticed the door to the corridor opened quickly and the cloaked figure darted out. He shouted to Bell, "Stay here with her!" He didn't give him a chance to answer as he rushed after the figure.
Flynn ran out of the corridor, slamming into the door with his shoulder, glancing about the hallway that was filled with terrified fleeing guests. He stood up straighter, scanning the crowds as he searched for that familiar cloak. He spotted someone running against those rushing out of the opera house and pushed his way through the masses.
He managed to get through the fleeing crowds and found himself in a different room where stairs led deeper into the lower floors of the opera house. He started to follow when he heard a familiar voice shout out behind him, "Flynn!"
He halted, glancing over his shoulder to see Wyatt, Lucy, Rufus, Gaston Leroux, and Arthur Conan Doyle. He tried to steady his breathing as they rushed over to him. "I think they're going down-"
"Where is Joseph?" Doyle questioned, glancing about the area.
Flynn pointed in the opposite direction. "He's trying to get to the bottom of the attack-"
"Attack?" Wyatt repeated. He rubbed his temple, grimacing from pain for a moment before looking back at Flynn.
"The weight for the chandelier landed on someone," Flynn explained in a hurry. "He's back that way in the workers' corridor-"
"Why were you guys there?" Wyatt asked, blinking his headache away, face still contorted in discomfort.
Flynn sighed. "I don't have time to explain!" he called out as he started down the stairs.
"Wait!" Gaston shouted. "You shouldn't go alone!"
"You're right," Doyle agreed. "I shall accompany you-"
Flynn shook his head. "That's not a good idea-"
Wyatt started after Flynn. "I'll go with him," he said. "You guys find Bell and make sure everyone else is okay." His face contorted with discomfort as his headache felt worse.
Lucy and Rufus nodded, understanding what he really meant. They had to be sure that whoever was responsible for this - be it Rittenhouse or Bloodstone - every one of historical importance had survived and were accounted for.
Wyatt and Flynn darted down the stairs as quickly as they could. With every level they descended, the darker the lighting was. They reached the basement floor and Wyatt grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "Do you smell water?"
Flynn nodded curtly as he led them further in. "There's a lake under the opera house-"
"A lake?" Wyatt gasped. "How-"
"They never understood how it happened," Flynn informed him, eyes darting about the stone corridors. "When they built the foundation, there was a spring filling the area. They kept pumping the water out but were ultimately unsuccessful."
"So, they just built around it?" Wyatt questioned with a scoff.
Flynn nodded. "It's what inspired the Phantom of the Opera's phantom to live by a lake-"
Wyatt interrupted him, "I never saw it-" He hissed again at his headache.
Flynn narrowed his eyes at him. "You okay?"
"Migraine," Wyatt admitted. "It started during the singing-"
Flynn stopped him by placing his hand against Wyatt's chest. He pointed out across the water-filled basement. Sitting on an elevated platform was the familiar white Mothership. He exchanged glances with Wyatt. He mouthed orders to flank the machine.
Wyatt nodded and headed to the left, while Flynn headed right, both armed with their guns out before them. They were careful not to make much noise as they stepped into the cool water. The waters in the basement rose to their thighs as they pressed toward the Mothership.
Wyatt paused. His eyes narrowed at the machine before turning his attention back to the stairs they had come down. He slowly started to return to the stairs, feeling like they were being set up. As he returned to the landing of the stairwell, he heard heavy steps echoing against the stone stairs.
He kept his grip on his weapon firm as he waited until they fully descended the steps. He saw a familiar frame being carried by a cloaked figure. His mouth fell open as he saw the unconscious singer from the stage in the arms of a man.
Shaking the headache pain and shock of seeing the singer from his mind away, Wyatt raised his gun and aimed it at the cloaked figure. "Stop!"
The man whirled around. Wyatt's mouth fell open as he stared back into a pair of familiar crystal blue eyes - eyes that were filled with so much hatred and anger.
Wyatt's vision saw white from pain as he fell to his knees, gripping the sides of his head as he cried out. He heard the footsteps running away from him. He glanced up, forcing himself to look through the searing pain.
Flynn fired a shot, missing his target as the bullet ricocheted off the stone pillars. Wyatt shouted, "Flynn! No!"
Flynn shouted back, "Seriously?!"
The man entered the time machine with the opera singer. The door closed and the machine whirred to life, disappearing from the basement. Flynn felt the rush of wind as the Mothership vanished. Ripples in the water sloshed forward from the wind, creating mini waves until it finally settled back to a stagnant pool.
Flynn jutted his jaw out in frustration. He turned, wading through the water back to the stairs where Wyatt sat on his knees, holding his head. He stared at the soldier. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Flynn spat. "I could have stopped him from taking her!"
Wyatt lifted his head. His nose was bleeding and his eyes were bloodshot. "I'm sorry," he sighed.
Flynn's expression shifted from anger to worry. He knelt before Wyatt, studying his face. "What's the matter with you?"
Wyatt held his head, shaking it slightly. "That man was me."
The team regrouped in one of the smaller rooms near the exit. Flynn held onto Wyatt's waist, making sure he didn't collapse. "We need to get him out of here," Flynn stated. "We should head home before this gets any worse."
"We can't just leave," Lucy started. "I mean," she sighed, "we need to know what happened-"
"I kidnapped the singer," Wyatt groaned, his grip around Flynn's shoulder tightening.
Rufus opened his mouth to spout off a witty remark but stopped himself as he saw the pain on Wyatt's face, knowing now was not the right time for that sort of thing. Lucy, on the other hand, gasped in shock, "You kidnapped Christine Daae?"
Rufus's head swiveled over to her. "Hold up," he retorted. "As in the Phantom's Christine Daae? I thought her name was-"
Lucy nodded. "She was the inspiration for the character-"
A familiar British voice spoke behind them, "What happened to you lot?"
They looked over to see Bell, Doyle, and Leroux approaching them. Bell eyed Wyatt. "Ye seem to require a doctor."
Flynn was about to reject the offer but knew Bell saw through everything they had said to him so far and he wasn't countering them publicly. Bell approached Wyatt and began a cursory examination.
"Did anyone see the perpetrator leave the premises?" Doyle questioned, writing in his notebook he had pulled from his pocket. "It seems he just vanished into thin air." He turned to Rufus. "What do you believe, Doctor?"
Rufus cleared his throat. "Uh…" he stammered. "I would suggest the man slipped through some hidden doors within these very walls."
Lucy's lips pressed into a thin line. She knew he was only suggesting that due to the Phantom of the Opera's story about hidden passageways built into the Opera House.
Gaston cocked his head as his wide eyes darted about the Opera House, clearly envisioning his future story in detail.
Doyle tapped his chin with his finger. "Hidden passageways?" he asked. "How do you know there are those within this building?"
"Well," Rufus continued, shifting in place. "There is a lake under the building. It is also the only plausible way for someone to just vanish into thin air." Rufus caught Lucy's gaze as she rolled her eyes at him. He licked his lips and added, "Or he simply went out the front door during the panic from the crowds."
Doyle nodded slowly as he scribbled notes in his little book. "Elementary, indeed."
Bell stepped away from Wyatt, shaking his head. "It's the strangest thing…" he rubbed his chin, "he lacks any physical signs of a fight, yet he looks like he's gone three rounds with a pugilist." Bell lifted his eyes to meet Flynn's. The two seemed to have a silent conversation before Bell nodded slowly, almost understanding the unspoken words. "Ye best get him to a safe place to recover."
Flynn nodded. "Take care of yourself," he said sincerely, eyes turning to the others. "All of you."
Bell gave a curt nod before turning back to the others. "We should continue our statements with the constable."
The team watched as the three men walked away, shoulder to shoulder toward the auditorium. Rufus glanced back to Flynn. "We should leave before they figure out that we're lying to them."
"They already know," Flynn told him, adjusting his hold on Wyatt, his eyes lingering on Bell. "Let's get him out of here before he passes out."
