14. A Hive at the Opera part 3

Half the people on stage screamed. Others ducked and covered their heads in vain.

The huge light fixture sailed mercilessly down over them.

I flinched, momentarily reaching for Myrkstaff—which was tucked away behind my back and under 'Allenthorpe's' coat. In slow motion, I wondered how successfully I could leap up, unsheathed the blade, and snap the object in two with Destructive power before it had a chance to crush any skulls.

But the one thing holding me back was the sudden fear of revealing my identity…and blowing my cover. Even if it meant saving the one crooked person I was there to spy on.

Out of nowhere came a charging sound of hooves. Ms. Cartwright and I gasped as a green-colored beast with wide-rimmed horns dove onto the stage, flared its nostrils, and jumped up to meet the falling structure head on.

SMACK!!!!!!

The metal fixture dented and flew across the stage, smashing into a foam-molded mountain scenery with a thunderous roar. No sooner had it happened, the green animal disappeared in a cloud of dust and down a nearby hallway: startled stagehands in pursuit.

Everyone stood up and sighed with relief.

Heartbeats turned to normal.

Cartwright nearly fainted.

I sweatdropped and stepped backwards—only to be yanked towards a table erected alongside the rows of seats by a conspicuous, green elf. Beast Boy lifted a phone receiver off the table, jammed it into my hand, and firmly—desperately—whispered into my ear.

I nodded, cleared my throat, and let Beast Boy—in the form of a parrot on my shoulder again—provide the ventriloquism. ~Um…I just got done talking to the manager of the local zoo…~

Everyone turned and looked at me in silence.

"………" I looked back. I pointed at the phone. ~…to tell them we've spotted their runaway yak!~

"Ohhhhhhhhh," chimed everyone, who then chuckled helplessly to toss away the tension.

I wiped the sweat off my brow and Beast Boy wiped the sweat off his feathers. I planted the phone back down, readjusted my sleeves, and sauntered back towards the stage.

"How on earth did that ever happen?!" Ms. Cartwright was all the rage…literally. "I thought you all fastened those lights in securely!"

"We did, ma'am!" a master stagehand said, standing over the debris and scratching his head. "Plum wyrdest thing I ever did see. It's like it was sliced off its supports!" He looked up. We all looked up. Metal chains and cords dangled loosely. "Maybe it's rust."

"Well maybe it is and maybe it isn't!" Cartwright boomed. "You send your men up there and you tell them to check every light and every fixture twice over now! You got me?!" She looked over across the stage, "Sandy…?????"

"On it'm," the brown-haired girl scampered off.

"What's wrong with you people?!" Rachel Plath—er, I mean Kitten boomed brattily. "Can't even run a decent opera without someone's head nearly getting split in two!"

Cartwright's head throbbed with a hidden artery. She lifted a finger, prepared to give Kitten an admonishment she wouldn't forget. But Beast Boy voiced in—and I stepped in.

~If I may…this is a rather awkward situation, so I suggest we all take five and gather our wracked senses. And, if need be, we can continue rehearsals in another location until this theatre becomes free of the recent poltergeist.~

People chuckled. Cartwright looked at me. I smiled back at her from under my shades, being the 'suave' Allenthorpe Jr. that I was supposed to be…or something.

"And just how's that gonna help?! And, dang it, I STILL WANT MORE LINES!!"

~Ms. Plath~ Beast Boy spoke as I calmly gestured to her. ~Might I have a word with you?~

"What for?!"

I cringed to think what Beast Boy would say. I cringed all the more when he said it. ~I thought I might compliment you on your acting skills. I can see some definite talent in you. And as financier, it would be in the best interests of the play if I got to talk to you a little.~

Beast Boy then whispered into my ear. "Do something Robin would do."

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Do it!" his beak clattered.

I raised a hand and—slowly—smothed it through my hair like a come and gave a thumb's up.

Kitten blinked. "Oh….um…." (I could have sworn I detected a sickening twinkle in her pupils at one point. "Sure thing…s-sir…"

Everyone sweatdropped.

Kitten sauntered off the stage in her half-gypsy garb and into a nearby hallway.

"What are you trying to do?!" Cartwright grasped my arm firmly—but not so as to piss Allenthorpe off. "What's your idea singling her out that way?"

I smirked even before Beast Boy provided the words: ~Humoring her…~

Cartwright took off her glasses and cleaned them with a small cloth. It was rather habitual. "I see….just, do us all a good favor, sir. Please….whatever you do…don't give her *any* impression she's getting a bigger role in this opera. I swear, that brat belongs only in two-bit impromptu garbage in the main city…"

~On the contrary, madame, we are here to see she gets as far away from the opera as possible.~

Ms. Cartwright blinked. "'We'??"

I sweat.

~Er…me and you, of course. We're like a team, Ms. Cartwright.~

The woman blushed. "Er…hehe…I-I suppose that's right."

I cringed, but tried to hide it.

~If you excuse me, I have a Kitten to tame.~ And I wandered off, per Beast Boy's direction.

Far behind, Cartwright stood alone, smiling….then thinking, puzzled. "'Kitten'????"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Kitten was outside, pacing back in forth around a flowing fountain in a courtyard behind the structure of the opera house. She tossed her hands and yelped and yelled every now and then, her lips flaming with spoiled heat.

"Why can't they understand?! Why can't they listen?! I was born for acting! I was made for singing! I can turn this stinkin', boring play upside down! And what is the thanks I get?! What is the standing ovation?! A stinkin' near-fatal accident! It's a plot! They're all trying to kill me! They all hate me for my talent! If I had my way, I'd—"

~What's a young, pretty girl like you doing in a stiff, boring place like this?~ Beast Boy voiced for me as I stepped up, hands behind my back.

"Pfft! Haven't they TOLD you?!"

~I hear your father's a rich man. Undoubtedly, he and his daughter must be of significant sophistication for her to be here.~

"Er….y-yes…well," Kitten sweatdropped, looking out through the corners of her eyes.

~May I ask…~ Beast Boy cut to the chase and I leaned forward, lipsyncing forth a grin. ~…is your father around?~

Kitten suddenly frowned up at me. "What business is it of yours?! I thought you were a financier! Not an investigator!"

Gabriel' lost a few feathers on that one. I, on the other hand, was pleased. Instead of directly lying, Kitten was merely evading the answer. Perhaps Beast Boy was right in us staying here after all. We might have a Moth to trap yet.

The green bird countered for us: ~Quite true, but I make an added effort to get to know everyone who's in high places. And I do mean, high places.~ For a split second, I was unsure what Beast Boy meant, so I spare-of-the moment rubbed my fingers together to signify 'money'.

That seemed to get Kitten's attention. "Are you….a business partner to my father?"

Considering what business her father was in, she knew as much as we did—no matter who 'I' was—that we had no honest answer to that question. But it was all right, because it wasn't an honest question that she posed.

~I could be.~ We 'said'. ~Given the right respect paid back…~

Kitten glared at me funny. "What do you mean….?"

~You're a very talented young girl.~ I cringed. ~I can see it in you.~ I cringed again. ~And quite frankly, this….stupid play is not worth the exhaustion of your creative energies.~

Beast Boy?! Where're you going with this?!

Blink. "I'm listening," Kitten grinned evilly.

God, she's blonde…

~Promise me, Miss Plath, that you'll peacefully take this opera as it is…and once I've critiqued it, I'll consider hiring you for one of my more……….~

Kitten leaned forward. "??"

~……urban, endeavors.~

"YOU MEAN CLOSER TO THE CITY?!" the girl leapt and hugged me dangerously about the neck. "Oh yes, sir! By all means!"

Beast Boy wheezed. I wheezed. Allenthorpe wheezed. ~A-And then…~ I pushed her back and held her by her shoulders. ~…your father and I can have a little talk about business. I'm sure he'd be…most interested in her daughter's exploits.~

Kitten paused momentarily, then gave me a squinted look of suspicion. "Do you know my father…..like Mr. Anderson knows my father?"

I blinked behind my shades. What the heck does she mean by that?

Beast Boy didn't seem to care.

~I most certainly do.~

I…winked behind the shades.

"Allright then," she grinned devilishly.

Hoo boy…

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Oglethorpe—"

~*Allen*thorpe~

"Whatever…I've got rehearsals to attend to. Hopefully in a relatively SAFE location!" she grinned, upturned her nose, and gypsy-sandaled away.

I stared after her in the waning sunset-light. Beast Boy looked at me. I looked at Beast Boy.

"Guess now's a good time to start the recon," he squawked forth a whisper.

I gave him a full-feathed smack on the back.

"!!!" the parrot flew off my shoulder. "Okay…Okay…I get the picture. Meet you upstairs in the attic at nineteen hundred hours. HA! I just love saying that!"

I exhaled exhaustingly as he fluttered off. I was alone by the fountain. It felt strangely….comforting, that loneliness.

I glanced off and—froze—upon sight of Sandy's unmistakable face peering around the corner of the building side. At first look at my…look, she disappeared.

Umm………okay…………………not a bad idea though.

After a few seconds, Sandy suspiciously glanced from around the buildingside again. But did a doubletake.

Nobody was there.

I had blurred into invisibility and rushed inside—and upstairs.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Throughout the rest of daylight, while Kitten squawked out her meager lines, annoyed the heck out of the casting director, frowned and threw tantrums every chance she got, and stormed off and on stage, a green bird tracked her. This same green bird—initials B.B.—fought drowsiness in all its lonely offices, but still pressed on. It was a hard task in and of itself to flap about in pursuit of the banal blonde without being sighted by a stressed Cartwright or a curious Sandy.

But as the sun fell outside the windows and the rehearsing lot wandered off from the site, a sulking/sighing Kitten made her way up the stairs to a room in the far side of the second story of the opera house. An anxious Beast Boy fluttered after her…curious…beak grinning.

Kitten's room was a pocket of a place. More like a walk-in closet or supply room, than anything else. The wall was littered with props and old-fashioned items like bicycle wheels and costumes hanging on hooks and wireframes. Kitten, with her meager cot in the corner, tried her huffy best to sashay the place with various frocks and confetti of pink nature. It about blinded Beast Boy as he snuck in a flutter through the doorway after the girl and hide up in the shadows of the rafters, watching. For what, he wasn't sure.

Kitten tossed her gypsy sandals off with more or less remorse, paced over to the bed, paused, and then rolled her eyes. "For goodness' sake! You can come out, now!"

"???" Beast Boy's feather head craned to look.

A wall panel slid open, revealing a vertical crawlspace of sorts within the woodwork. Only one villain the Titans knew would resort to such creepy, shadowed hiding spaces. And it was the one villain that Beast Boy could not imagine actually fitting his goofy mass inside.

And yet, somehow, Kitten's father—the one and only Killer Moth managed it. He slid out, took a deep breath, and glared down at his daughter through the serrated teeth of his mask.

"What took you so long, Kitten?"

"Unghh! Like, you know what, Daddy!"

"You're here to keep an eye on things, not play prima donna!!"

"Well what else do you expect of me?!" she stomped her foot. "You drag me into this dusty, crummy place! Force me to listen to that stupid casting director ramble her mouth off! And then—to top it all off—they don't even want me to be a part of their show! The nerve of these people! What were you thinking in bringing me here!"

"Now, Kitten…believe it or not, things are *not* all about you…," Killer Moth grumbled.

"Pfftchya!! They sure as heck are! Who was it that helped get this hiding place for you?!"

"Kitten…."

"And who is it that's reporting from the inside for you?!"

"Kitten…!"

"And who is it that's gonna win over the favor of Ms. Cartwright and Mr. Anderson while you go play around with your stupid little maggots?!"

"Kitten, you're not helping at all! I can hear your shrieks all the way from the Underground! If you're gonna help Daddy with this new gig, you're gonna have to fly straight!"

"I don't go pasting stupid wings on my back like some psychos, Daddy!" Kitten pouted, her arms folded. "I can handle myself! You just have fun with your little bugs and I'll get Mr. Anderson to talk to you by and by."

Beast Boy scratched his feathery head and listened.

"I hear there's a new person in the opera house…," Killer Moth mumbled. "The son of a Mr. Allenthorpe."

"Yeah…rich fellow. I think he could be of help to us!"

"I'll make the decisions around here of who is helpful and who is not helpful, Kitten!"

"Awwww, Dad! But he's cute!"

Beast Boy blinked…frowned…and shook his beak.

"DON'T YOU DARE SAY THAT WORD AGAIN!!" Killer Moth hacked at his daughter. "The last time you had a crush on a boy, I was in the slammer for three months! No way is your father doing that again! Not so easily!" He marched over to a wooden chest, opened it up, and gathered a few chemical formulas stashed away in a briefcase. "This plan is to go flawlessly. In two and a half days, Kitten, there'll be more rich people watching the final showing of Il Trovatore than you can shake a stick at!" He held his bundle of chemical vials close to his suit's chest and turned to face his daughter. "Imagine the ransom for them as hostages? There'll be a fortune big enough to feed every single one of my winged children for a lifetime! Not to mention petty profits off of whatever's in the audience's pockets!"

Beast Boy's bird eyes widened. Jackpot indeed.

WHAP!!

The trunk closed and Killer Moth headed back into the vertical crawlspace—which Beast Boy figured must have been a passage way to the 'Underground'.

"Keep an eye and ear out, Kitten," 'Daddy' said. "About this Mr. Allenthorpe figure….he may just have to be one of the victims in the end. I'm not nearly as trusting as I used to be."

"Pfft…like I'm one to learn!" Kitten rolled her eyes. "You won't even let Fang near the house anymore."

"ENOUGH! I have work to do. Try to keep a low profile. Everything depends on the success of this show! If there's no show, there's no audience. And if there's no audience, there's no hostages. And if there's no hostages…..well…no college fund for you."

"Oh joy."

"Have a good night's sleep. Forgive me if I don't tuck you in." He slammed the wall panel close behind him.

"Rrrrrrgh! He makes me so mad!" Kitten whined to the air, huffed, and sat down and began taking off her socks.

Beast Boy knew it was time to go. He headed towards the door and turned into a lizard just as a sudden flash of bright, pink light illuminated the room.

"Huh??" Kitten looked up. "What was that?"

The green lizard blinked. Stared.

"Oh well," Kitten shrugged.

So did Beast Boy…before slithering out from under the doorway and parroted through the halls, heading upstairs with urgent news.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

I had been lucky.

I found a deck of cards and was busy playing solitaire to bide the time while Beast Boy performed his reconnaissance. It was well after nightfall outside the Victorian Window and—to be honest—I was a tad bit concerned.

Thankfully, there soon was a knock on the door.

I got up and—without thinking—swiftly answered it.

Ms. Cartwright's face smiled in the reflection of my shades. "Mr. Allenthorpe," she spoke. "Am I disturbing you?"

I blinked.

Uh………crud. What to do. What to do. What to do. What to do.

The lady just stood there, looking at me. Her eyes trailed behind her glasses. She smiled awkwardly and sorta lifted an eyebrow in desire for a response.

I blinked again. Standing still. Staring.

Finally, I cleared my throat and…gestured for her to come in.

"Why thank you…," she said pleasantly and strolled over to a rocking chair, leaning on it. "I just thought I'd let you know that a full checkup has been performed on the lighting fixtures and other major structures within the interior of the theatre. I had my people working around the clock and even doing overtime to see to the safety of the opera house. So whatever caused the falling structure earlier today---I deeply apologize. Just rest assured that something of its nature will not happen again."

I nodded slowly, staring at her…shifting up my collar so as to hide my neck.

Silence.

Cartwright swung her arms absent mindedly.

Silence.

I scratched my neck.

Silence.

"And….um….," Cartwright rubbed her forehead, looking down and hiding a smile. "I was wondering if…."

I saw a bit of green feathers appear from behind the doorway. I glared and mouthed something towards the door and hissed—carefult not to grab Cartwright's attention. The green feathers hid just in time as she looked our way.

"…if perhaps you'd give me the honor of having dinner with you?"

I snapped out of it and looked at her, surprised. My lips opened--

"You don't have to!" she blurted, blushed, then cleared her throat. "That is to say, Mr. Allenthorpe, I will not oblige you to dine with me since you're the financier and I'm the director. It's just that…we're so glad to have you here, it would be a shame if I---er---one of us didn't try to show you our…er…appreciation."

I simpered. Nodded. And shrugged.

Cartwright looked to the side, rubbing her neck.

A green bird bolted in and hid on the other side of the room.

I about pratfalled.

"Well then, at least it's something to think about, right sir?"

I nodded.

She nodded.

I nodded.

She nodded….and headed for the door. "Have a good night's sleep, sir."

I waved nervously.

She was about out of the room when--

~I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow.~

My whole body cringed. I spun around and stared daggers into the bird that was suddenly perched on my bedpost.

Cartwright turned around, flushed. "Oh, you would?"

I quickly spun to face her, blushing…smiling…simpering.

~Most definitely, madame! Forgive my silence, I was merely meditating on the themes prevalent in Il Trovatore!~

"That would make…w-worthy discussion, wouldn't it?"

~That it would, indeed.~ Beast Boy beamed. I was dying.

"How's about twelve o'clock?"

~I beg your pardon?~

"….on the veranda. For dinner!"

~Oh yes, but of course! Ha ha ha! Wouldn't miss it for the world.~

My fists clenched.

"Splendid…until then, sir."

~Goodnight, fair lady.~

And the door shut.

I immediately spun around and performed a silent, soundless scream long into the green fowl's face.

Beast Boy materialized in elf form, sitting cross-legged on the mantle. "Relax! She's a stressed woman! She'll forget everything in the morning!"

I palmed my face over my hand and wished—for once—that I could moan.

"Besides, I have good news!"

Suddenly, the door opened again.

Ms. Cartwright peered in. "I'm sorry, but I must ask. What species is Gabriel?"

I looked at her. I looked at Beast Boy, who had performed emergency metamorphosis in the nick of time.

~Pardon me?~

"Your parrot. What species is it?"

Both of us blinked.

~…Bird.~

"……..oh….a-allright then. Cya tomorrow."

~Bye…~

The door was closed again. I walked over and locked it.

"Good call," Beast Boy reappeared, slumping to the ground and groaning.

He said it right.

Somehow, I was no longer angry at him.

"Anyways…I have good news."

"????"

"Killer Moth is here and he's planning on making hostages out of everyone in the audience during the Final Show."

"!!!!"

"Now just hold your horses!" Beast Boy exclaimed, pushing me back as I reacted emphatically. He yanked out a communicator from his pocket. "This is something we've gotta report first! Remember, Robin called this a covert op! Can't be too hasty!"

Yeah…can't be to psychotic either.

"Boy…the guys are gonna be sooooo psyched to hear we found Killer Moth in hiding!" Beast Boy grinned, then thought to himself—aloud: "I wonder what color my medal should be?" A pause. "Oh, and you get a color too, Noir. I dunno 'bout a medal, but you get a color," he added, purposefully boastful with a twitch of his grin.

I shook my head and returned to solitaire while Beast Boy radioed home.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Downstairs….in the cluttered lobby…at a desk, dimly lit.

"Hey Sandy…," a worker wandered to the girl filing paperwork with a note. "I just got a phone call. Mr. Anderson should be coming tomorrow afternoon. He'll call again first thing in the morning to check up on us."

"Thanks for the update, Claire," the brown haired teen replied.

"Should I tell him that Mr. Allenthorpe's son arrived safely?"

Silence.

"Sandy??"

"No, Claire," Sandy said. "I don't believe that will be necessary."

"….all right then. Have a good night, Sandy."

"Good night, Claire. Drive home safely."

"I will."

The brown haired girl was left alone. Her eyes trailed the ceiling. She removed her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and was still.

Silence.

Finally she shrugged, gathered her things, and switched off the light.

-click-

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

Nighttime outside the opera house.

A few lights could be seen in the tents where stagehands were still up late working on construction and props. A few other tents housed those who were staying for the sake of the show itself. A troupe of sorts.

A light that couldn't be seen—however—was a pink streak of almost magic illumination that crossed the countryside and came to a stop between the crystal lake and the old manor house itself.

After a pause, the streak of pink leapt, flipped, and landed at the front lawn of the opera house and died out.

Silence.

FWOOMP!!!

A flash of bright pink appeared briefly before streaking away.

A ring of fire had been set at the base of the mansion…and was slowly eating its destructive way towards the building structure itself….