I continue! Yay! I have had the most severe attack of writer's block and I couldn't do anything, but last month I saw the play at the Masonic Temple and I was like "NYAAAAHHHH! I MUST WRITE!". So I started, and then, lo and behold, I get pneumonia and bronchitis from someone in my school. I got better and tried to write again, only to break my foot in gym class and I had to be in the hospital for awhile, then spring break, I went to Florida. :sigh: So busy I be...and accident prone. By the way, Amile is sixteen like Christine. Erik found her when she was two years old and took care of her for fourteen years. Just to clear anything up that confused you. Now it starts to get good! Yay goodness! So read little good-fic seeking minions!
Chapter 36: Into The Warzone
The night of Don Juan Triumphant! came at last. Amile felt great, not caring about anyone except herself and Erik. It was like a high that she couldn't get off of. She had planned everything from start to finish. What she would wear, where she would be, everything. She had read the script two times and then looked through the music. It had to be good.
Erik had left around a half and hour before she started to get ready. She dressed in her masquerade outfit and her own mask, smiling at her artwork. She took her blanket just for good luck. It was perfection in its finest form. The set was black and red, so she would blend right in. But her common sense suddenly took hold of her. Should she really be doing this? Yes, it was for her father, who she wanted to please more than anyone in the entire world. But someone would suffer, or many people... She shook her head to clear her thoughts of anything that was going to prevent her from doing this. It had to be done. Before she left, she took an extra Punjab lasso, just in case.
Exactly as Erik had warned, the police were everywhere. Their eyes were glazed over so they could look like they were the most agressive creatures that ever existed. This wouldn't be easy. Then again, did Amile ever like things to be that easy? No, she didn't. She smiled as she remembered the back door to the stage. All actors and actresses came in through there, so she would too. She could try to trick the guards into thinking she was an actress that was never written, and if they didn't believe her, there would be consequences. Amile made two plans, knowing one would have to work. So she managed to sneak out of a window and used the shadows as a hiding place, going outside and into an alley, her eyes staring wildly at the guard. He was a big man, a rifle in one hand, a checklist in the other. But no one was too big for her. She could easily take him down.
As a precaution, she took off her mask and hid it behind her back as she walked up to him, managing a very innocent look.
"Excuse me..." she said softly, trying to keep a little innocent girl aura around her.
He looked down at her and smiled, his voice producing a very scratchy, "May I help you?" She nodded and looked at the checklist in his right hand. He also looked at it and set his rifle down and got out a pencil.
"Name please?"
"Amile LeCrux," she responded, knowing that her masquerade name had to work somehow.
He looked through a few pieces of paper and shook his head. Obviously a no. She put on a fake confused look, the best she could manage and stared at the back of the checklist.
"But, I have to be in there! How can I not be?"
"I'm sorry madamemoiselle, but I cannot let you in if you aren't on the checklist. But if you wish, I could go in and ask someone about this."
His offer was sweet, but Amile had no time for sweetness. She sighed and nodded, moving her eyes to the left, knowing it was the lying look. He turned around to open the door. Little did he know about her reaction time. She took out the lasso and threw it with as much speed as she could produce, putting on her mask as well. It was a perfect strike. She yanked back harshly on his neck and pulled him down, flipping him onto his stomach in the process. She placed her boot on his back and growled at him, "I know I'm not on that checklist because I'm really not an actress. But I am one thing. I am the daughter of the Phantom of the Opera. And you're not going to live long enough to tell anyone. They'll already know."
With that, she yanked hard and broke his neck. Releasing the rope, she stared at the hook holding up a lantern. It seemed strong enough...
She left him hanging somewhat off the hook, but not all the way. Using her knowledge of leverage and the pulley system, she peeled off a few strings off what made the whole lasso and balanced the rifle on the hook, tying the remaining strings to the trigger. If anyone tried to pull him down, they would be shot.
Going through the hallway in mass chaos was a deathwish, but she managed. No one noticed her because of the insanity going on and because of the fact that she blended in. Dodging hurrying people and stage changers, she got to a pillar behind some of the curtains on the stage. Thank you Lord for friction, she thought. Pushing her way up the stone pillar with her boots and her fingers, she got up to the higher rafters without being seen. There were police up there with the stage changers. She knew how to get past them though. Making her way to a staircase that went to the hallway that went the boxes, she slid in and closed it.
Police were there too, talking to eachother quietly. It scared her at first, but luckily Box Five was not far away. The police guard there was over at someone else's box, chatting to the other police officer.
"Stupid," she muttered.
She easily slid into the box without being seen by anyone. Raoul was not there yet so she took the chance to look over the stage. It was amazing. It made you feel like you were in Spain or someplace very warm. Sweat threatened to come out of her pores already. A click behind her told her to hide. Finding another pillar to hide behind, she heard Raoul and a police man come in. It took a minute for Raoul to get settled before the curtain finally rose.
