Disclaimer- I still own nothing from POTO... but I am working on changing that, hehe.
Yay! Check it out, I got the second part up! High five!... Alright, so anyways, thanks so much for the reads and reviews. I'm excited to get this story going, so here is a bit of thanks first:
Juilette Delphe- Lol, please don't pee in your pants, that would make an awful mess. Glad you like it girl- it would be damn shameful if YOU didn't like it.
Araiona Dubois - Yay! You loved it? Awww, thanks! And sorry, but no the spell does not exist --hides Erik in the closet and pretends he's not there-- ... to my knowledge... but we could attempt it anyways, just for kicks, and see what happens... not that anything will... --shifty eyes--.
Alright, so on we go. What oddness will we find? Nobody knows.
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Chapter 2:The Unlikely Truth
It is said there are three ways a human reacts in times of distress. Now to explain this I would rather recite it the same way it was told to me. Example, let's pretend there are three individuals who just began to cross the street when a Honda S2000 comes blaring around the corner with no intention of stopping. What do these people do? In moments like this it is only natural for human instinct to take over, in which it is said there are only three things an individual would do.
Individual number one is the most likely of the three, the type of person who would naturally step out of the cars way and proceed to curse and throw things at the vehicle as it passed.
Individual number two, not as likely as number one but just as common. Individual number two is the type of person who's body in time's of stress comes to a screeching halt. They are the few who, once that Honda came barreling towards them, would freeze like a deer in the headlights and most likely would collide with the hood of the automobile.
Individual number three, the most unlikely of the trio and yet oddly enough it does happen. Number three I suppose you could say holds the most animalistic instincts of all the others. The person acts more primitive in times of distress, and instead of casually moving out of the way or freezing instantly, number three takes more of a destructive approach. See, once the vehicle would come within arms reach, number three is most likely to try and attempt to PUNCH the car into submission rather than any other, more rational move. Sadly, it is something that people like individual three have a tendency to express with any sort of high distress, meaning even if the slightest bit startled a person like this first reaction would be to defend themselves.
Unfortunately, Olivia was one of these unlikely number three's. So anyone could imagine that when those lights came back on and a man stood in the place of a candle, Liv did not take the same approach as her comrades. While her friends felt is necessary to run about, screaming bloody murder, Liv felt it necessary to react.
And so she did...
Seated awkwardly on the floor, her outstretched legs the only thing between her and this towering man, Liv did the only attack she could think of at the time. With a cat like swiftness she automatically kicked her leg upwards... and landed a powerful blow square in the strangers groin.
Her eyes shot up to his, engulfing those green orbs in her own, watching to see if her little attack had worked. At first it seemed ineffective for the rage that flared in those vibrant eyes had not faded, but moments later they glazed over and his mouth fell open as if to release a silent scream. In one fluid motion the towering man toppled to his knees, his hands going to grasp painfully between his legs before he rolled over to lie on the floor like a dead fish. Liv took advantage of the moment and scrambling to her feet, tiptoed around the groaning man and vaulted over the sofa, coming to stand behind the couch with Hope and Cambria who were both still screaming like little girls.
From across the room Ryder called to Liv from her crouch position behind the table, her voice shaking with astonishment as she screeched, "I didn't think it'd actually work!"
Liv said nothing, just stared in utter awe at the man who had crumpled to the ground after she had brutally kicked him in the balls. He was moaning and crawling slowly across the floor, trying to gain his wits about him but failing miserably.
Hope and Cambria were still screaming like banshees, and Ariel had positioned herself behind the kitchen counter with a butter knife in hand, poised to attack.
Ryder stood up from where she had been crouching, being the only one doing so. After a moment of examination, although it was difficult to think with the two girls screeching, Ryder called to her friend once more, "Hey Liv, does that look like the Phantom of the Opera to you? Or am I just crazy?"
Liv's head poked out from behind the couch, her eyes searching over the crumpled male figure on the ground. "It can't be," Was heard being murmured from her lips, but she made no further movements but to stare at the large figure.
"So you see him too?"
Liv gave a small nod and moved a little further into view. Her gaze danced between Ryder and the man on the floor, her eyes asking so many questions her voice would not allow her to say.
Ariel stated loudly over the screaming, waving the knife to get attention, "I see him too."
Ryder nodded, "Alright, so I'm not hallucinating."
"Maybe the candle was mixed with some hallucinogenic plant for scent and we inhaled too much smoke," Liv suggested from behind the sofa.
"And we are all imagining the same thing?" Ariel groaned doubtfully.
"Can you think of anything better Sherlock?" Liv snapped back.
"Maybe... maybe the spell actually... worked," Hope said weakly, finally her and Cambria running out of air and unable to carry on with the shrills.
No one objected Hope's suggestion, but everyone was too stubborn to admit there was no other answer.
Ryder came up with another possibility, and laughing nervously she asked the girls, "Alright, who hired the stripper? This is one of these requested, be whoever you want him to be, actor in progress, strip routines right?"
The girls looked accusingly at one another, each waiting for someone to admit the prank. No one took the blame.
After several moments of exchanging bitter glances, Ariel sighed and said what was in the back of everyone's mind, "Well I guess we can rule that theory out. So... why don't we do the simple thing and ask him who he is?"
Ryder nodded, and clearing her throat, asked in her best French, "Monsieur, ce qui est votre nom ?"
The man on the floor stopped his squirming, his vibrant eyes snapping violently her way. They rolled along her image suspiciously, inspecting her like a carnivore stalking it's prey. For an agonizingly long time is seemed he inspected her and then with a thundering growl he spoke harshly, " Je vous exige me dis où je suis premier! Quel est cet endroit? Ce n'est pas une partie de mon théatre de L'Opéra. Qui êtes-vous les gens? Je vous exige me dis immédiatement!"
Liv questioned immediately, "What did he say?"
Ryder recited bluntly, "He wants to know where he is first."
"Well tell him he isn't going to get anything out of us until he identifies himself," Liv snapped, and when Ryder hesitated she snapped again, "Tell him!"
Ryder nodded and carefully translated Liv's message back to the crouched man. Once recited, his vibrant eyes shot from Ryder to Liv, inspecting her in full. Liv shifted uncomfortably for only an instant under his gaze, then showing her backbone, Liv dropped her eyes to stare just as viciously at him.
He was surprised by her stubbornness, that much was clear since his gaze faltered slightly when her eyes began to drill holes in his skull. He was just as stubborn though, and so the staring contest held fast for sometime before the silence was broken.
"Uh, Liv," Cambria said tenderly, "This... uh, this game is going to get us no where."
"Agreed," Hope and Ariel chimed in, "Ryder, ask him his name again."
Ryder rolled her eyes, but did so.
His gaze refused to leave Olivia's equally cold stare, but with his body once again in his control, the man slowly stood up, in all his glory. A velvet black cape cascaded off his shoulders, revealing a well built man in a dashing old fashioned tuxedo. His green eyes glowed brightly, and his jet black hair was slicked back as it shown in the weak light. A white mask hid the right half of his placid face, but the visible side was jaw dropping beautiful with strong, angular features and high dominant cheek bones. He stood erect and towering above all five girls, his refined posture allowing him to stand at his full height. From his thin, pink lips a deep baritone voice rang out with a polite unrecognizable accent about it, "Je suis le Fantôme de L'Opéra." He responded with pride in his speech and a hidden threat looming within them, warning the girls to mind their words.
"Oh shit!" Ryder muttered, her eyes growing large, "It worked. He... he's the Phantom Of The Opera."
Liv mouthed the title he had given himself, and then straining to look over his shoulder, stared at Ryder. For a few moments she stared, and then very suddenly she began to laugh hysterically. For several minutes it seemed she crudely giggled, and when she spoke it came out barely above a snort of, "Wow, great job. I mean seriously, you all really had me going there. Woo, good job guys, ha, real good birthday surprise."
Ryder looked confused at Liv, and tried to make her understand, "Liv, this wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't plan this. Honest to God."
"Right," Liv chuckled and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, "Ryder, cut the act. He can't possibly be the Phantom Of The Opera- that man is a fictional character!"
Ryder gave her friend a weak, bewildered shrug.
It was then that the towering man turned and faced his doubter, his voice coming out a clear English as he spoke, " I beg your pardon, Madame, but I am not a fictional character as you suspect. I have no idea how I got here, and do not appreciate such crude behavior from you," He turned then Ryder with a harsh glare, "And I most certainly do not appreciate such pranks young lady, nor do I wish to be bothered in this way again. Now, I demand you return me to my abode immediately."
Again the girls mouths gaped, only Liv was quick enough to get her wits about her to growl, "You can speak English?"
The Phantom nodded, "Fairly well, but the English dialect I know seems to have some serious differences than the language you all speak. The young lady offered a language I was more familiar with so I chose to go with that... although it seems the only manner of being able to express myself fully is by using your... unattractive speech."
Liv's mouth gaped, appalled, but Ryder snapped before Liv was able to reply, "Well, he definitely is crotchety enough to be the Phantom."
Liv nodded, but still she refused to jump to any conclusions. She rolled her eyes and sighed, "I believe...sure... Ryder, you managed to bring a fictional character from the 1800's to life, for my birthday... right..." She cleared her throat as if preparing to recite a speech and continued, "So Monsieur Le Phantom, how did you come upon or humble abode?"
The man stared at her like she was out of her mind. "I have no idea! I was writing at my organ, listening to Carlotta sing like a donkey in heat, and then everything went black. And now I'm here, with no clue as to how I got here or who you all are. Now, I told you who I am, now it is your turn to explain. Who are you?" He asked, harshly demanding.
Liv growled at his vicious reply and shot back with just as harsh of a tone, "Names Olivia Haylyn, and I would appreciate it if you didn't speak to me or anyone else as if we are inferior children!"
Ryder looked at her friend and timidly reminded her, "Whether or not he's the real Phantom of the Opera, I don't think it would be wise to piss him off... just a suggestion."
The Phantom looked at the two girls, ignoring the one girls advice completely and continuing to banter the infidel, "You are inferior children."
Surprisingly Liv snapped back with the same vigor, "Well you're a rude and insufferable fraud!"
A fire like rage crossed the Phantom's eyes, and in one fluid motion, his hands slipped beneath the midnight cloak, disappearing from sight.
Ryder had a flashback of what he hid under there, having read the book after Liv insisted upon her doing so. What was it again? Oh yes..."Oh shit!" She muttered, and then as swiftly as she could manage, Ryder bound across the room and leapt between the two. She held both hands out. "Stop!" Her voice was low and firm. Her eyes watched the Phantom, waiting for his hands to return, and the sneer on his face go away. "Liv," Ryder whispered over her shoulder, "Remember what the Phantom kept under his cloak? Even if it's not cat gut, it will still be a noose." She looked at him, and thankfully the hands reappeared. With a sigh Ryder dropped her own and stood so she could see both of them, "We will get nowhere by insulting each other. I don't care for a trial of wits at the moment... we'll deal with Shakespeare later."
Liv stubbornly agreed, knowing Ryder was right, and bit whatever insults she had left drifting on her tongue. Her eyes still held bitterly to the imposter, but she forced herself to sound at least a fake cheery as she spoke, "So, Monsieur Phantom, what brings you to Georgia?"
His eye brow arched. Wasn't it obvious? "However you brought me here," He responded coldly, attempting to not insult the girl.
Liv snapped rather crudely but was able to retain her temper as she questioned, "Believe in witch craft?"
The Phantom looked right in Olivia's eyes and spoke with less control than before, "How else would you explain how I got here?
Olivia's brows raised and shot back at him almost mockingly, "Trap-door?"
Ryder looked at her friend. "Mrs. Potmyer would kill me!" She exclaimed, talking about the landlord
From across the room a very faint whimper of Hope's voice said, "Since when has that stopped you?"
Ryder looked at her, thinking. "This would be a bit much...especially with my parents coming to town," She turned back to Olivia, "Liv, I swear upon a bible-any bible you want, that I in no way, shape, or form planned this. The spell wasn't supposed to work. And even if I had a trap door-which I don't!- how the hell can I make a person grow from the flame of a candle?"
Liv shrugged, "Not sure... but they do it all the time in movies."
"This would be a crappy movie,"
"Indeed," Liv agreed.
The Phantom interrupted their rather randomly brought up conversation by asking crudely, "Georgia? Did you say Georgia? Madame, you must be mistaken- I am in Paris, France."
"You ain't anymore buddy," Liv bluntly stated, her odd accent leaning a little towards the Southern part then, "This is Snellville, Georgia... like in the United States, as in America."
"Ah yes, you mentioned witchcraft," The Phantom said, tapping his chin lightly with contemplation, "Well, transportation from one country to another is obviously rather simple for you sorceresses, so I command you send me back to Pari-"
"It's not the simple," Ryder interrupted, taking a step back from the man a little, "I mean, yes, you are no longer in Paris and are in Georgia, but it gets a little complicated after that..."
The Phantom's brows creased in slight irritation and question.
Hope answered first, "Well... we aren't witches..."
"We're High School graduates," Cambria cleared up.
"With literally no witchcraft experience," Ariel commented, still waving the butter knife.
"And you sir," Liv joined in the explanation, the attitude still lingering in her voice, "Are most certainly, no longer in the nineteenth century."
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Alright, well that's it for today. I hope I got the French right, I'm a little out of shape with that language. If it isn't, blame it on Alta Vista. Ok, well thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, and I'll be back with an update soon. Thanks!