For Author's note, see Chapter One. Amalita
Thank you to asp and Han Futsu Anti Normal who reviewed my first chapter! You both rock! And here…is Chapter 2…
Chapter Two: A new assignment
The sterile look of the lunchroom usually offended me, especially once you got a look at the boss's office. Chintz and antiques as far as the eye could see! Not that we ever spent that much time in the lunchroom. But today, one of those busted up wooden chairs with half the foam falling out of the cushion looked like heaven. I fell into one of them gratefully and let my head slump forward on the table. It had been a long couple of months.
I remember when Liz, the boss, had first given me the assignment. I was ecstatic beyond belief. A few months in 1890's London, in a swish, rich old house, with maids and beautiful French gowns, balls, parties and one very sexy young writer. Would you turn your nose up at that?
Of course it was only for two or so months. Unlike a lot of other Mary-Sue's, I was what you call, a Mary-Sue gypsy. We I only ever stayed with a Leading Man for a short while, giving them a beautiful memory to look back on, something which gave them inspiration. A great passionate affair they could keep with them always. I travelled from story to story, man-to-man in this fashion, before eventually deciding I loved him too much to be with him, or I befell some sort of terrible accident. So far, I had been hung, poisoned, shot in the stomach and probably most unforgettably, been stabbed to death by a pack of Orcs from Middle Earth.
But with Christian, I had run away. A notorious Whitechapel gang, who had taken me in when first I 'entered' their world, training me as a pickpocket, thief and prostitute, was hunting me. I had taken up with the leader, Arthur he was called. And when he found out Christian, a very wealthy man had taken a great interest in me, he sent me to him, to take up a place in his home as a ward, in the hope I would get my hands on account and safe numbers and many priceless items. I had not 'intended' to fall for Christian.
When Arthur found out he was furious. He kidnapped the both of us, putting a gun in my mouth and telling Christian if he didn't get what he wanted, I would die. I wasn't afraid of death. It wasn't real. In fact it kind of tickled. Anyway, cut a long story short, we realised we both loved each other, Christian murdered Arthur and I was charged with the crime. We decided we loved each other too much to endanger each other's lives. Christian left for Paris the next day.
My name is Vivien by the way. Vivien Delmar. I've been working as a Mary Sue for 5 years since my 19th birthday. Like every other girl here will tell you, I never thought something like this could happen to me. At home I was nobody. I lived in a normal house with my mother, father and sister. I slept in on the weekends and cursed Monday mornings, worked ordinary jobs and went to ordinary parties with ordinary friends. I guess the only thing that separated me from them was I wasn't content. I wanted to be extraordinary, but not as in becoming a Hollywood actress. But as being the stuff of legend, someone grandparents would tell their grandchildren about. I wanted to travel the world, dancing and singing, having many lovers and men at my heels. I never thought I'd get it.
I didn't just get it either, I got more. I've lived in palaces, in fairy tales, I've taken to the high sea and I've enchanted men with my ways. Well, sort of. Liz made it possible, sort of brought it out, but still it was me in those worlds.
I lit a cigarette and sat pensively at the table, my chin in my hand. I wondered if that world, that storyline was still going, now that I'd left it. Was Christian sitting in his room, crying his eyes out? I had never bothered to ask what happened once we left. I knew, that several girls went in as a Moulin Rouge Mary Sue, as Christian's Leading Lady, but was I therefore erased or were there more than one Christian? If there was just the one I felt kind of bad for him. Between Satine, and me I'd pretty much messed up half his life. A strange bubble of emotion welled in my stomach, an emotion I later came to recognise, as guilt.
I took another drag of my cigarette. Mary Sue's don't smoke normal cigarettes. Those of us who keep the habit were given a special brand of cigarettes to smoke called French Kiss. Those of you who smoke will know how much it stinks and how it makes you stink. (Let's be honest.) It turns your breath fouls and clings to your clothes, hair and fingertips, and not even a heavy dose of perfume or a good brand of toothpaste will cure. It may shift it momentarily, but it won't cure it. A French Kiss on the other hand doesn't affect the breath, its smoke clinging to you, but taking on the smell of your perfume, like a scent chameleon. If they had chosen to sell to the public, they would have made a fortune.
A cloud of white suddenly disrupted my vision and for a moment I actually thought I had smoked myself to death. There was no need to fret though. It was only Claudia.
Apparently things were going well with the Prince of the Mirkwood realm. Claudia was dressed in head to foot in white lace and satin, a belt of silver leaves draping her hips. Her hair was pulled back in a traditional Elvan fashion and an Evenstar was clasped onto her neck. The salad sandwich and bottle of Coke she had in her hands somewhat distorted the image.
"Hey Viv! Phew I'm whacked." She sighed breathlessly, plonking down into a chair. "I've been dancing for the past three hours now."
"Dancing?"
"Some sort of Army coronation of something." She explained as she ripped open the sandwich's white paper bag, a beetroot stain seeping steadily through the flimsy paper.
"And how is Legolas?" I asked pointedly. Claudia took an enormous bite of her sandwich and shrugged.
"You know, asked me to dance. Then we went walking in the forest. He kissed me. We'll probably go to bed together by the end of the week." She said matter-of-factly. "And? How was London?"
I smiled, "Yeah, yeah it was good." I said faintly. Claudia eyed me curiously.
"You OK?" I nodded. "Just a bit tired." Claudia turned her attention back to her sandwich.
"Guess anyone who travels as much as you would get tired-Oh! I almost forgot!" she gasped suddenly, carrot falling into her lap, "Liz wants to see you about a new assignment, she told me to let you know as soon as you got in."
I groaned, stubbing out my cigarette. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Laying my head on the table and falling asleep, now that was more like it. But with a great effort, telling myself that I could be doing SO much worse employment wise, I hoisted myself out of my seat and made for Liz's office, giving Claudia a friendly goodbye kiss on the cheek as I went.
"Don't get any beetroot on your dress." I smiled giving on of plaits a tweak.
Elizabeth De La Rona. To anyone else, this name means very little. But to anyone inside the Mary Sue system, it inspires great respect and holds tremendous sway, for who should no better than the woman who had turned Rhett Butler's affections from Scarlett O' Hara? Who made Tony Curtis forget all about Marilyn Monroe with one toss of her fiery hair and one look of seductive supremacy? Who put Mae West in the dark?
Back in the early 1940's Elizabeth spent day and night in her East London bedroom, rehearsing scenes from disintegrating theatre scripts, spending every penny she had on talking pictures and vocal training. To be an actress, that's all she'd ever wanted. When she met John, who worked for a great theatre company, it seemed as though God had sent her an angel to guide her way out of the shadows and onto the stage.
Until the angel skipped town with her savings and a seamstress.
Crushed, angry and betrayed, Elizabeth hunted for comfort in one of the only remaining glimmers of light on her otherwise dark horizon. She sat in that theatre and watched that same movie over and over and over again. In the early hours of the morning, the usher was told by the doorman to go and tell a young woman with red hair and a pretty green dress that the theatre would soon be closing.
But she wasn't there.
No one was. He checked with the other ushers who watched the hallways if they had seen a girl with red hair and a pretty green dress leave the theatre. But they hadn't. The staff was baffled. They combed the entire auditorium, front and back of house, the bathrooms and projection rooms, but there was no sign of the girl with red hair and a pretty green dress. They switched off the light and locked up the theatre, deciding she must have slipped out without them noticing. It wasn't until the next morning they found her, lying unconscious on the floor of the projection room.
Back in her apartment, Elizabeth sat down on the edge of her bed, shaking from head to foot. She didn't know how she'd done it. She didn't know why it had happened. She might have believed she'd imagined the whole thing, if it wasn't for the stunning diamond ring that shimmered on her finger.
60 years had passed and Elizabeth could still remember how she felt when Rhett Butler had laid that first kiss to her burning lips, the dizzy euphoria and sense of revenge she felt for John and everybody who had done her wrong! And for 60 years her mission had been clear. To give the same chance to those who dreamt the hardest, who deserved above everything else, that same intense satisfaction. And I was lucky enough to be one of those girls.
I entered the room and took my seat in complete silence, waiting patiently for Liz to turn round from the window. Elizabeth was over 80 now, her red locks had whitened, her porcelain skin had wrinkled but she still held an indescribable power, a strange kind of respect as if one were in the presence of a monarch.
"Good afternoon Vivien," she said at last, not turning to look at me, "How was London?"
"Cold." I shrugged. Elizabeth laughed and sat down opposite me, patting my leg with a formal sort of camaraderie.
"I bet you and Christian found quite a few ways of keeping each other warm." I laughed along with her. I would usually find discussing sex with an elderly person highly disconcerting, accompanied with a whole stack of disturbing mental pictures, but Elizabeth knew what she was talking about. She was a pretty hot tamale back in her day.
"What have you got for me Liz?" I asked. Usually I'd sit and chat with her for a while, but I was feeling oddly out of sorts today. I didn't seem to want to think of London, Christian, anything. Liz handed me a folder containing my next assignment. I put my glasses on and had a look. I could feel Liz watching me, like a mother who has just given her kid a birthday present they've wanted for months.
After a moment I looked up at her incredulously. "The Phantom of the Opera!"
"But of course. You are a Stage-Sue don't forget. With your musical and performance training you'd be ideal, he'd have you on stage at the Opera Populaire in a week. Besides he does fit your profile of the ideal man."
"Who? Claude Rains?" I asked non-plussed.
Liz laughed. "No, no my dear, Gerard Butler." She plucked a sheet of paper from her desk and handed me a photograph, of what had to be the sexiest man I had ever laid eyes on.
"Uh, w-when would you need me by?" I was somewhat dazed by Mr. Butler's good looks.
"By six o' clock this evening." Liz said looking at her gold watch. It was 3:30 in the afternoon.
"But Liz!" I whined, slumping back in my seat, "I just got back from London! Can't it wait 'till the morning?"
"No I'm afraid not dear. The 1880 Paris daylight is fast waning and we'd like you to be there when he wakes up. He sleeps through the day, you see." This all sounded so reasonable but I felt so flat. I just wanted to go down to the nearest bar for a few margaritas, then crawl into bed with my Indian takeaway and watch old Fraiser re-runs.
I must have been pouting like a spoilt child, for Liz sighed good-naturedly and said, "If you'd prefer we can put you under." I brightened at that.
"You could?"
"Yes," Liz smiled, "He can find you lying unconscious on the banks of the Lake and put you in bed. It'll give you time to recharge."
"Thank-you!" I sighed.
"But I want you to memorise all the necessary information before 6, alright? I don't want to have to hear that you took a nap in the Solarium again."
"But I was exhausted!"
"If Lily hadn't opened up the lid on the tanning bed before she warmed it up you'd be dead!"
"With a healthy glow." I smiled cheekily. Liz gave me a stern look. But she was smiling none the less.
"Get to work my girl." And she turned back to gaze out the giant window, that looked down upon her fantasy empire.
"Can't you do this with a pill?" I swallowed nervously. Susan, the medic, to out a large needle of anaesthesia and took hold of my forearm.
"It wouldn't work fast enough." She smiled sterilising a patch on my forearm with anaesthetic, which has that truly vile smell we all associate with injections. "Just practice your scale." She soothed, bringing the needle in closer. I lay back on the chaise lounge and sang the Opera scale to take my mind from the pain, but as it went in I hit a note so high I'm sure The Opera Ghost could already hear me.
Susan shook her head and placed the hypodermic back on her shiny metal tray. "Do you have your luggage?" she asked.
"Under my feet." I said, pointing at the brown leather bag propped under my combat boots.
"Has it got everything in it? Mobile, clothes, information?" Again I nodded.
"Make sure you keep the information well hidden." She was starting to get hazy.
"I always do." Susan rose briskly to her feet, brushed down the front of her white coat and smiled. A flash of pearly white teeth was the last thing I saw clearly.
"See you on the other side." She smiled.
A great roar of music swirled through the cellars of the Opera House, making the waters of the lake ripple and rats scurry away in fear. Or maybe it was the shadow in the water, edging closer and closer to the bank of the lake, which scared them so.
Seated at his organ, bare-chested in his flowing black robe Erik remained oblivious to all other sound and motion, as his music filled him, clouded his dark memories, obscured his loneliness and brought him a moment of peace from the hardship and isolation of his life. It wasn't until Ayesha, seated atop his piano stirred aggressively that he came out of his reverie.
"Ayesha? What is it darling?" Jumping down from the organ, Ayesha darted over to the edge of the lake where she sat swishing her tail and meowing menacingly in the back of her throat. Erik followed her down to the bank and looked curiously into the dark lake. He could see it now. A strange shape. Reaching into the murky water he took hold of it and dragged it onto the bank. As soon as it fell at his feet, he jumped back, partly from fright and partly from astonishment.
He didn't know how it had happened. He didn't know what he should do. Would it be wise or would it all end in tragedy?
What would he do with this young woman?
Ooh things are getting interesting! Hopefully anyways. OK now, if you read my story and liked/loved/hated it or want to give me a few pointers or if it made you retch PLEASE review and let me know! Reviews are the only ray of light in my dark life! OK a tad melodramatic, but still! Review!