When Writers Go Bad: Chapter Two
Chief Inspector Javert awoke with a splitting headache, which he thought rather odd, for dead people did not generally have splitting headaches, or so he was led to believe. Nor did they generally wake up in cells with nine other people, sitting on straw without having the slightest idea as to why they were there.
Groaning, he ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at it and massaging it with his fingers. "I must be in Hell," he thought gloomily. He then turned to see a sleeping Jean Valjean next to him, and immediately jumped five feet back.
"Damn!" he shouted aloud, waking the other nine occupants of the rather spacious, straw covered cell. "I am in Hell!"
To his left, he saw a young couple awaking, the girl grabbing her lover's arm. "Raoul! Look! Erik's waking up!"
And to the left of them, indeed, a tall, masked man was waking up, groaning as he did so.
"How is this possible?" shouted the boy that was obviously Raoul. The masked man, Erik, blinked.
"I'm not doing anything extraordinary, am I?" he asked rather sourly.
"But...but you were dead! I saw you!"
"Was I?" he asked rather surprised. He then poked himself in the ribs, and concluded that he was most certainly not dead. "Well, I'm not anymore."
Javert sighed. "Oh good. Than neither am I."
Valjean, sitting on the right of Javert, scooted away slightly, and closer to the man Javert recognized as Baron Pontmercy, and the woman that was presumably his wife, for they were clutched in each other's arms.
Sitting across the wall from these five were another three people; two men, and a woman. The woman sat between the two men, but her strawberry blonde head was leaning on the blonde man's shoulder, while the dark haired man had sort of slumped to the side.
"Should we wake them?" asked Erik to no one in particular.
"We might as well," responded Javert, who picked up a pebble and lobbed it at the trio. It hit the dark haired man's head, who groaned, and slowly opened his eyes, clutching at the rather large and nasty looking lump on his forehead.
"Ohh..... my head....." he moaned, and turned his head to see the woman and other man. This, apparently, startled him quite a bit, for he jumped back, and then saw the other occupants of the cell, and was surprised again. "Who on earth are all of you?" he demanded quite loudly, waking the pair up.
Erik, adjusting his mask, seemed quite miffed. "We could ask the same of you."
"Well, I asked first, so ha!"
"Let's not make a scene!" cried the blonde haired woman sitting near to Erik. "That's Erik, he's the Phantom of the Opera."
"The Phantom of the what?" asked the blonde man who was snuggled with the woman, waking up.
Erik looked rather dejected. "You mean you've never heard of me?"
"Certainly not, my good chap." The accent surprised them all.
"You're British?" asked the phantom.
"Indeed I am," he responded, gently waking the woman next to him. "I say, Margot, do get up, love. We are in a most peculiar situation."
Drowsily, the woman awoke, but was apparently not a morning person, for her eyes were glazed over, and she did not seem to fully comprehend what on earth was going on. "I don't seem to fully comprehend what on earth is going on."
"Yes, we know," the blonde woman spoke again. "The narrator just said that. I think we should get on with introductions. I am Viscomtess Christine de Chagny."
"And I suppose that would make you Viscomte de Chagny?" asked Baron Pontmercy.
"Oui," agreed the young man. "My name is Raoul, monsieur."
"Am I to guess," asked Javert, "that I am the highest ranking officer of France among us?"
"Well, I know I'm the only representative of England," said the blonde man. The dark hair man wanted to contest Javert's assumption.
"Not necessarily. Your name, Citoyen? I am Citoyen Chauvelin, chief agent of the Committee of Public Safety of the People's Republic of France."
"Le Republique?" asked an astounded Raoul. "But the Republic's been gone for nearly a century!"
Citoyen Chauvelin paled, and his companions grayed slightly. "W-what?" he stuttered.
Javert seemed surprised as well. "Not a century, only a few decades."
"You, monsieur, have your dates wrong then," responded the Angel of Music.
"Then who's date is right?" cried a frustrated Christine.
"I suggest," said Javert coldly, "that we all keep are heads about this thing and continue with the introductions. I am Chief Inspector Javert."
Jean Valjean was trying hard to calm down, seeing as it was his turn to speak, but was having a terrible time repressing memories from Toulon. "I a-am Monsieur Fauchelevent," he lied, going under his fake name. He'd planned on telling Cosette the truth that day, but, events being as they were, things didn't quite go that way.
"I am Baroness Pontmercy," said the young girl next to Valjean. "Monsieur Fauchelevent is my father. My name is Cosette."
"And I am her husband, Marius Pontmercy," said the dark haired youth, clutching his wife all the closer to him. "And you?" he asked of the three people who so "mistakenly," believed the time to be 1792.
"My name is Lady Marguerite Blakeney," said the strawberry blonde haired woman. "I would say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but being locked in a cell makes few things pleasurable."
"That's my clever wife," the blonde haired man said with extreme pride. "I am Sir Percy Blakeney, baronet."
"Well, now that we're all one big, happy family," said Chauvelin rather sarcastically, "does anyone know where we are?"
Groaning, Erik rose to look out the barred window, but saw only blue. "I haven't a clue."
"More importantly, does anyone know when we are? I'm terribly confused!" cried Christine.
"And how do we get out of this odd place and time?" Raoul asked.
Javert glanced at the heavy wooden door, and stood, trying the handle. "Locked."
"Well, I don't know what you expected," snapped Cosette rather irritated, because cells tended to put her in a rather bad mood. "'Let's just abduct them from their homes in the middle of the night, stick them in a cell, and leave the door unlocked! What a marvelous joke it will be!' Really, let's be realistic!"
It was then that the door flew open, knocking into Javert with a thud, and sent him flying, landing sprawled out on the straw floor.
From the door, in marched a four girls, trailed by several bunnies. One, was wearing bandages on her head, and she had a few cuts on her face. Another was dressed completely in black and wore a black eye mask, irritated-ly clutching her cape. The third was in a red, flowing gown, and was buffing her nails in a rather bored manor, while the final one was carrying a large bag full of assorted candies, and popping another one into her mouth every few seconds.
The hands of the bandaged girl flew to her mouth in horror when she realized she'd given Javert a cut on his head. "Oh my goodness!" She then flew to his side and fluttered over him much like a bird, and spoke far too quickly for the whole conversation to be heard. "OhmygoshareyouokayIdidn'tmeantohityouAreyoubleedingHowmanyfingersamIholdingupOhdearohdearohdearI'msoterriblysorryThiswasn'tsupposedtohappenI'llhaveitreatedimmediately!"
As she said this, Javert rather impatiently, waved his arms in the air. "I'm fine, woman! Who on earth are you?"
Standing erect, the young girl bowed and grinned behind the bandages. "Why, I am Shadow13."
To Be Continued.....