18. A Hive at the Opera part 7
"Where'd I get this stone?" an obese Mrs. Calico beamed with a glass of champagne in her hand. "Why, back in the Khaza mines of Madagascar! The land there is practically *saturated* with these sort of stones. It's a pity that everyone thinks mine's so rare. Ah hah hah hah hahhh!"
The affluent woman's cackle was a bloated one; the sort that only overly-blessed individuals are capable (and willing) to laugh. She proudly displayed the huge red gem glittering around her neck as she stood about in the lobby, floating and flirting her way around the richest groups of people in the world.
It was minutes till the opening number of Il Trovatore. The stage was set. The lights were humming. The orchestra was poised.
Women in shimmering gowns and men in rigid tuxes gathered about in homogenous clusters about the tables and booths of the lobby. The band played softly in the background. The slideshows cast paintings of Medieval Spanish landscapes all around the walls. The lighting was dim, and the overall ambiance was a soft droll formed by hundreds of chattering voices, clinking glass, and shuffling slippers and dress shoes.
"This is positively luscious," the nationally renown Veronica Vreeland mused to one of her many new fiancés. "I've never seen such a gala occasion! But there was that one opera in Toronto last April. You remember that, right Rufio?"
A dark haired suitor at her shoulder sweatdropped. "Um...Veronica...you were with Vincent then."
".....Oh yeah."
Over in a corner...
"So I said, 'Sell the whole damn hardware manufacturer!'," cackled Benjamin Powers to a rich business associate. "Hahaha...I mean, it's not like we need them! We're catching up to Wayne Enterprises anyways!"
"Doesn't the recent recession scare you?"
"Heh...the only thing that scares me is broccoli..........and Ted Turner."
After minutes of socializing and general monotony, the clock reached its quota and a charmingly dressed Ms. Cartwright walked towards a podium to the left of a huge set of double doors and cleared her throat into a mic.
Everyone turned to face her and drew pleasantly quiet.
"Good evening," she said, blushing too much for her own good. Tonight is the night. "And welcome to the WestHaven Opera House! We've been showing the finest in the musical artform over the last eighty years. And how fitting it is that tonight we're displaying a work that has captured our hearts for one hundred and fifty years!"
There was a round of applause. The men clapped with joy and emphasis. The women clasped their hands together, their eyes sparkling as they gasped in rich ecstasy (ick).
"It has been a work put together for you tonight by the greatest cast and crew of hard working human beings I have ever had the pleasure of associating myself with...," Cartwright said, smiling.
From the corner, a modestly dressed Sandy watched the proceedings with subtle anonymity and smiled at her boss' proud moment.
"Without further ado," Cartwright gestured to the doors which were now opening, "...I invite you to enjoy the final showing at WestHaven of Giuseppe Verdi's 'Il Trovatore'!"
People clapped, smiled, gasped, and chattered their way through the door...and into the many, open seats.
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It was nighttime outside. A black sky yawned over the country setting. The huge letter signs for 'WESTHAVEN' shone brilliantly. Trailing electric lights all around the front and rooftop of the opera house produced a dazzling kaleidoscope of golden glory into the ever expansive black. Two searchlights sliced the sky at random intervals and angles. The building was alive with luminescence.
At the front entrance, a couple of valets congregated, sharing a joke or two to pass the time. Beyond them sat a throng of rich luxury cars, classic automobiles, and limousines parked throughout the huge grass lawn in front of the House.
The moon blinked with cloud cover for one minute, and shadows cast themselves over the cars and the sides of the House suffering the cold shoulder of the highly placed lights.
Out from the shadows in the grass lot, three distinct bodies rushed into the clearing under the cloud's obsidian shade. They meandered through the cars and crept up to the southwest side of the building. They knelt before an iron grate leading into the cellar. A streak of pink light emanated from one of them, and the grate fell away. The three slunk in, and lifted the grate back in place behind them.
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"Art...it is an immortal artform. The expressed creativity of language itself is the ever-present epitaph of our communal mortality. It speaks volumes of our pasts, and interprets dreams about our future. Every facet of life...every nook and cranny of civilization is--in some way--touched by the honest hand of the arts. For the arts is from the people. It's breathed through them. It pumps through their arteries and sighs in their veins. To ignore the talent constantly before us is to ignore ourselves. Then, by admiring art...by allowing ourselves to be entertained, we enjoy ourselves. We indulge in the very fabric of our own life. And in that sense, we become immortal too. And I, ladies and gentleman, have thoroughly...overcome the practicalities of death. After tonight, I....we shall once again be reminded that life is not at all about getting up in the morning and getting your money's worth for the day. No. Life is about art. For art is about life. And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I implore you to enjoy tonight's presentation: Il Trovatore."
Mr. Anderson bowed and stepped off of the stage. A throng of applause and cheers lit his back. Then soon, the lights lowered. The curtain rose. And the orchestra began the first scene of Act One with All'erta! all'erta!.
The old man frowned once he was off stage, and looked for a wall to lean on.
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"All right...just where is that maggot muncher?!" Gizmo frowned.
They stood in the basement of the WestHaven Opera House. The three agents of H.I.V.E. Surrounding them, various props and costumes and suits of armor and figurines stood under the constant cover of dust and shrouds. Age-old paintings and musical instruments rested against walls and a smell of rust and lint permeated the air.
The sound of the thunderous opera music wafted through the ceiling and vibrated pleasantly throughout the chamber.
"Ugh...probably didn't want to come down to this boring place," Mammoth grunted. "It's a shame. I was hoping to get friendly with Killer Moth in person. Heheheh."
Sitting on a porcelain horse in the corner, Jinx said nothing. She alternated between flipping her locket open and close and playing with a pair of dice like hand massagers.
"Well, he's supposed to be here!" Gizmo looked at his impractically advanced watch and grumbled. "The show started minutes ago! Is he gonna put the fear into these people or what?!"
"Maybe he doesn't want to do it right away?" Mammoth suggested. "Or maybe he only decided to bail out on meeting us down here!"
"Or maybe you should stop talking, snotbrain, and go out and look for him!!" Gizmo cackled.
"Call me that again and they're gonna be naming you 'Gizless' on your tombstone!" Mammoth shook his fist.
FLASH!!
Pink light flew over them and smashed into a painting on the opposite wall.
Both boys looked over.
"Save it for the Titans," Jinx's eyes narrowed. "As soon as Killer Moth puts his plan into action, we put ours into action too. And then we're gone. No fights. No confusion. Just grab the Khaza Jewell and go."
"Awww...I'm not gonna keep a party going without us for too long!" Gizmo grinned. "Let's see if I can't hack into Killer Moth's hive, ya know? Make him sweat a little for trying to be such a smartass to us guys!"
"Yeah! Show him who's the real bugger!" Mammoth cheered.
"....," Gizmo glared at him with speck eyes of disgust. "You're a hopeless mound of steroids, man."
"What?! I was only trying to--"
"Shh!" Jinx lifted a finger and smiled as the music poured down through. "I love this part..."
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It was approaching the end of Act One, and the audience was fully in the lap of the entrancing show. On stage, in front of an elaborate medieval courtyard, the Count di Luna realizes Leonora's feelings for Manrico when she falls for the troubadour's song in the distance. Inevitably, Di Luna would challenge Manrico for a duel in desire for Leonora's sole affection.
Ms. Cartwright sat, beaming, in the front row. Every actor and actress she had worked with were performing heavenly. All her days of stressing and obsessing were coming to closure. Yet the one individual who happily distracted her from her anxious ways was absent that very night. She glanced over at an empty seat where Mr. Allenthorpe Jr. was supposed to be. A blank expression of confusion and melancholy crossed her face before she once again focused on the events unfolding on the stage.
The famous Second Act was about to take place...
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"Cram it...barf...snot...crud...slime...puke...phlegm...crap..." Gizmo grunted as he paced about and about and about the cellar floor.
"Maybe he slept in?" Mammoth said.
"SHUT UP!!" Gizmo hopped up and down angrily. "He is not getting the upper hand on us! He is not gonna treat us like dirt when he owes his very night to us here and now!"
Jinx jumped down to the floor and put her hands on her hips. "Speak for yourself."
Gizmo blinked. "Huh?"
She pointed behind him.
He spun around.
"Somebody's mouth needs to be washed out," Killer Moth said.
"YAAAH!" Gizmo fell back, his speck eyes wide. Then he growled and shook a tiny fist. "You twirp! Haven't you anything better to do than sneak up on us?!" He whipped out a remote and clicked a button. From his mechanical backpack, a laser rifle arose and pointed its barrel at the costumed adult. "I'd smile if I were you...unless you want your picture taken later." The little man grinned.
Killer Moth frowned...and was silent.
"Thought so," Gizmo lowered the laser rifle halfway with a click. "What took you so long?"
Killer Moth growled. "People."
"Heheh...little too crowded for your liking?" Mammoth asked. "What, you shy?"
"Let's put it this way...," Killer Moth gestured. He stood besides an old suit of metal armor as he spoke, "...I'd much rather be sneaking my way through human bodies when they're on the floor. Homo sapiens have their days numbered. The future belongs to the insects and anyone who--"
"Yeah yeah, whatever," Gizmo shrugged. "When are we gonna do this thing, old man?"
"We're going to do this *thing* after I tell you this," Killer Moth pointed. "You can have what you want. But realize that if you so much as try to hurt my creatures at all, there'll be Hell to pay. I chemically programmed an avoidance function in them just for you three so that they'll avoid ripping the skin off your bones with their mandibles. Believe me, I let them down greatly with the loss of such a meal."
"Lucky for us...," Jinx monotonously mused.
"You see this?" Killer Moth held out his gloved hand. There was a cylindrical device in it. At the very end of it was a switch. "This releases my children. One tap of the button and this opera falls under my control. None of you are allowed to even touch it. Only I am allowed to use this. If so much as a single inch of your skin grazes this device, I shall be very...very...very...angry."
SMASH!!!!!!
Suddenly, the suit of armor besides Killer Moth flew apart in a hundred pieces. Emerging from the metal shell, I brought my charged Myrkstaff back down, spun around, and swept Killer Moth's feet from under him. WHUMP!! I reached down, swiped the trigger from his hand, and somersaulted across the room.
The H.I.V.E. members watched, bug-eyed. Unbeknowst to them, a green dalmatian statue behind their legs turned into a green elf that charged, dove, and became a falcon in mid air.
I tossed the trigger up, which Beast Boy caught in his talons and flew off to a far side of the shadowed cellar.
"........." Everyone stared.
Then Gizmo jolted. "CRUD!" He slammed his fingers onto his remote. The laser rifle uprighted itself and blasted madly away at me.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
I flipped, rolled, and dodged each subsequent blast of the weapon with grace. At one point I knelt down and held Myrkblade up vertically, deflecting a blast or two back at him.
Gizmo shrieked and ducked a firebolt that singed a painting and a statue behind.
Mammoth came charging, growling at the top of his lungs.
I vaulted over his shoulders and nopped off his back--forcing him to plunge into a crumbling grand piano. SMASH!!
I landed right in front of Jinx, lifted my shades, and winked a black eyes.
The pink-haired witch stared breathless and wide-eyed for about half a second before I spun and kicked her shocked self in the stomach. WHUMP!! She flew back into the strings of an age-old stage harp and got tangled up in the cords.
Mammoth got up, rubbing his head, and was about to charge at me again when Killer Moth shrieked from the other side of the cellar: "Not him!! The green bird! He's got the control!!"
Gizmo stood up and saw the emerald falcon swinging around for an approach. He clicked a button on his remote, and his backpack launched an entangling net that swallowed the fowl and brought it down to the earth, sqawking and pecking.
Mammoth was about to stomp on it when Beast Boy swiftly turned into a snake, swallowed the control, and slithered out of the holes in the twine.
WHAM!!
He dodged Mammoth's massive foot, hopped up, turned into a pelican in mid air, and launched the control at me.
I jumped and caught it, landing with a blur that carried me--smoking--up and out of the cellar entirely.
"NO!!" Killer Moth shook. "Why didn't you tell me that the Titans were here?!"
Mammoth shrugged. The stupid oath was quickly slammed to the ground by a green kangaroo's pair of feet.
"We've got to get that control!" Gizmo growled. He turned his backpack into a jet pack and propelled himself up the stairs.
"You mean *I've* got to get it back!" Killer Moth shouted after him and ran in pursuit.
Beast Boy turned into a cheetah and made for the door as well.
Just then, an angry Jinx pulsed pink hex throughout her body, smashing apart the harp entangling her. She stood up, gritted her teeth, and aimed a hex beam at the stair way.
FLASH!!
A wave of energy soared ahead of Beast Boy and collapsed the ceiling of the cellar just before the exit. He stopped in his tracks in elf-form, trapped.
"Attack Pattern Delta!" Jinx growled. She and Mammoth went stealthily into hiding.
Beast Boy spun around.
There was no sign of his two enemies. They were hidden behind ancient set pieces and props. Stalking him.
"Hoo boy...," he sweat dropped and slowly snuck his way to the grated exit to the lawn outside.
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I blurred into the main hallway. The noise and music of the opera shook off the walls and filled my ears. I looked behind me and caught the shadows from the stairway that announced my villains in pursuit. I had to lose them somehow….I turned around, looked for options, and eventually headed for a corner that led backstage.
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Beast Boy snuck around a tall wooden crate and pressed his back against it. He peered around the corner at the grate in question. A touch of moonlight shone down through it. He whipped out his communicator and whispered into it.
"Good, you got the communicator, Noir…"
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"…now see if there's some way to activate the failsafe," his voice electronically murmured to me on my end. "Robin studied the last one Killer Moth used when we did him in. There should be some switch somewhere that shuts off the device altogether and makes it impossible to reboot."
I nodded listlessly, sneaking into the shadows backstage, undetected. I glanced around. I could see the curtain through a slit that separated the front of the theatre from the backdrop being used on the set. Suddenly, the curtains rose and before me stood-facing the audience-a plethora of gypsies in some sort of outdoors setting. Kitten was out there, dressed in her garb. An extra. I glanced to my left and then up. A complex set of pulleys and ropes and catwalks stretched vertically and criss-crossed the huge space behind the set's backdrop.
Act Two. Scene One.
"I'll rejoin you as soon…"
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"…I can, but first I have to get my green butt out of here," Beast Boy finished and snapped away the communicator.
"Party line?"
He gasped and stared up.
Jinx flew down at him from atop the crate, hexing fingers first.
Beast Boy mongoosed out of the way.
Jinx landed and flung a hex bolt at him.
The changeling flipped into a frog, leapt, bounced off of Jinx's head, and landed on a wall in the form of a monkey. The green primate grabbed brass candlesticks from a nearby, dusty pile and started lobbing them one by one at the cat-eyed witch. Jinx twirled, side-stepped, and ducked each projectile. She smiled and jumped nearly to the ceiling, making way for a charging (roaring) Mammoth.
"RRRRRGHHHHHH!!!"
The monkey swiftly turned into a seagull and flew over the giant's head as it plowed into the debris.
SMASH!!!
Beast Boy swiftly dropped down, turned into a green gorilla, and slammed both of its fists into Mammoth's back.
WHUMP!!
"UGH!!" Mammoth tumbled, got back to his feet, and ran back, growling. "RrrrrrrrRAUGH!!"
The two behemoths met in the center of the cellar, making contact with their hands. They proceeded to struggle and strain for physical dominance. Mammoth grit his teeth. Beast Boy furrowed his apeish brow.
Mammoth got control at a point. He put his weight into swinging Beast Boy's huge, hairy body into a nearby crate, smashing it into splinters. That pissed the changeling off. He slammed his foot into Mammoth's chest, pushing him back. The gorilla howled, jumped up, and started pummeling Mammoth's face left and right; left cheek and right cheek.
WHAM!
SMACK!
POW!
He gripped Mammoth's shoulders.
Mammoth gripped his neck.
They struggled in place for a few seconds until--
"Ahem…," Jinx muttered.
They both looked over.
She held two glowing, pink hands up and smiled. "Stay still, Mammoth." She proceeded to aim for the green gorilla in her partner's gasp.
The primate's eyes widened, and suddenly it turned into a tiny mouse in Mammoth's grasp.
The sudden change in mass forced Mammoth to topple forward with a gasp and directly in Jinx's line of hex.
FLASH!!!
Mammoth flew hard into a wall with a cry. The mouse fell out of his grasp, turned into a bat, and made straight for the grate when it was snatched from midair by Jinx's hands.
"GOTCHA!" The sorceresses grinned at the winged creature in her grasp. "And if I don't mind saying so…quite a cute one for once."
The bat frowned and turned into a green porcupine.
"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Jinx tossed him into the air. "YAAAH!!"
In mid air, the porcupine flipped and found itself sailing straight at Mammoth, who was holding up one end of a rusted crowbar.
"Batter up…," the giant threateningly mused.
The flying porcupine turned into a flying triceratops.
"….," Mammoth's eyes went wide.
SMASH!!!!!!!!!
The green dinosaur landed butt first against the H.I.V.E. mercenary, shoving him into the far side of the room. At the end of its slide, the triceratops got up, dragged its feet, and charged straight at Jinx.
Jinx leapt out of the way at the last second as Beast Boy smashed through countless props and cultural artifacts before leaping into a humming bird and finally flying out the grate.
Jinx grit her teeth and ran after it, motioning to Mammoth: "Come on!"
"What's there to come?" Mammoth asked, lying dizzily in a pile of pain.
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In the meantime, I was sneaking my way across the backstage. When I found a secluded enough spot, I stopped. Just beyond the backdrop, I could see the shadows cast by the gypsies and actors as the spotlight focused on them. Shadows danced and twirled all over me.
I turned the cylinder over and over in my hand, making sure not to press the button on the trigger. That would release all of Killer Moth's hideous creatures. I strained and squinted my eyes through my shades, and for a second there I swore I saw a meter on the bottom of the cylinder that hinted at an energy depletion for the trigger's signal…er…or something.
A rustling sound emanated from my right. I jerked to see.
Killer Moth was quite obviously entering the backstage area. He glanced over and saw me in an instant.
I looked to my left.
Gizmo hovered to the ground backstage, looked around, and saw me.
I looked up.
A rope.
I blurred. I jumped off the wall. I flew and grabbed a hold of the rope. I climbed it at murking speeds.
The music from the orchestra pounded and the chorus of the gypsies filled my ears.
Killer Moth and Gizmo ran to the center of the backstage and looked up at me. Killer Moth glanced down at Gizmo.
"We've gotta do this quietly. The sooner we alert the audience of our presence while he has that remote, the less of our chances of holding them all hostages by my creatures. It'd be a bad situation if the people got scared off before we could get to them."
"Tell me something I don't know," Gizmo stuck his tongue out. "Fartwing!" He switched to a stealth mode on his jetpack and hovered up after me.
Killer Moth jumped onto the wall in the back and used his razor sharp claws to climb up.
In the meantime, I had made it to a catwalk and was running down the metal platform that quite literally stretched over the stage performance. I looked down and below my feet—between the grating of the catwalk—I saw for the first time the hundreds of rich spectators comprising the audience.
Whoah…
CLANK!
C-CLANK!
Killer Moth and Gizmo landed on the platform on either side of me.
"Well looky here…," Gizmo grinned underneath his speck eyes. "The phantom of the opera…"
"Give…that…back…" Killer Moth flexed his gloved hands.
I gripped the trigger tightly in one hand. I looked from Gizmo to Killer Moth and from Killer Moth to Gizmo.
They slowly closed in on either side of me. Step by step.
The catwalk wobbled.
I whipped out Myrkblade. SWISSSSSH-CLANK!! It rested on the metal floor, murk warbling.
Gizmo stepped closer.
Killer Moth stepped closer.
I pocketed the trigger away.
I gripped Myrkblade in two hands.
The music pounded.
The gypsies danced.
The audience entranced.
Killer Moth growled, his mask's teeth glistening.
Gizmo clicked forth a laser rifle from his backpack.
I looked at Killer Moth.
I raised Myrkblade.
They drew to a stop.
Close enough.
I looked at Gizmo.
Gizmo looked back at me.
The gypsies paused.
The actors inhaled.
I grinned at Gizmo.
His specks went wide.
And the anvil chorus began.
I lunged at Gizmo, kicked him in the knee, and struck him upside the shoulder with the broadside of Myrkblade, throwing him back.
Killer Moth charged.
I spun, deflected his arm down, elbowed his chin, and spun-kicked him back a few feet.
Gizmo lunged and grabbed ahold of my back. I flipped murkingly in mid air, grabbed onto an over hanging rope, and yanked my lower body down—tossing him onto the catwalk.
The boy fell at Killer Moth's feet. Killer Moth leapt over him and raised his claws at me in mid air.
I spun on the rope and propelled myself downward. My foot sailed upside his cranium, causing his whole body to spin vertically in mid air till he fell with a loud CONG!!! that shook the whole platform.
Gizmo lost his footing on the shaking platform as I came down, landed on a railing spun, and smacked him good in the chest with Myrkstaff.
WHUMP!!
He slid off about ten feet till he literally fell off the catwalk and into the backstage below. "WHOAH!!"
Killer Moth stood up, shook his head, and charged at me.
He swung serrated fist after serrated fist.
The anvils clanged.
The gypsies bellowed.
I ducked, backstepped, and dodged every attack.
Killer Moth then struck upwards from below.
I twirled to the side, lifted his lunge further with a thrust of Myrkstaff, spun, and elbowed him deep in the chest with the hilt of my sword. He bent over from the impact, upon which I uppercutted him with a kick that sent him sprawling back.
Just then, Gizmo lowered in front of the incapacitated Killer Moth. Hovering from his jetpack, he whipped out two laser rifles and dove at me, firing.
Time slowed down as I jumped off a railing, positioned myself horizontally, and twirled in mid-air, dodging the streaking flamebolts that soared around and under my limbs by a hair's whisper.
Time resumed. Gizmo soared past me.
I landed lengthwise on the platform, winced, and looked up.
Gizmo came flying back for a return.
Suddenly, Killer Moth lifted me from behind in a headlock. I struggled, barely keeping his gloves' claws away from my neck. But he wasn't interested in me. He forced the trigger out of my pocket and into his grasp.
I looked ahead. My black eyes widened under the mask. I swiftly elbowed myself out of Killer Moth's grip and ducked low.
The costumed villain gasped as he suddenly faced the brunt of Gizmo's head-on laser rifle strike.
Gizmo zoomed over, but it was too late. A trail of flamebolts ricocheted off the hardened chest of Killer Moth's costume, knocking him back and forcing the trigger high into the air and out of his grasp.
"I got it!!" Gizmo cried and soared high over the resounding opera, returning with a hand outstretched.
I looked up at the mid-air device. I gritted my teeth, clenched the catwalk with my fingers, and surged murk through my body. I released, blurring myself up into the air, spinning, and snatching the trigger a half second before the flying Gizmo could. When he soared past me, my legs were in the right position to kick him square in the jetpack. And I did.
"YAAAH!!" he went spiraling down into a loud, clanging crash atop the catwalk.
I flipped from my kick and landed in front of a ready Killer Moth.
He punched me hard in the jaw and shoved me back with a foot.
The trigger went flying up into the air again.
He reached for it.
I countered, stepped forward, and swung Myrkblade in an upwards arc.
SWOOSH-CLINK!!
I knocked the trigger higher into the air with my wooden blade, swung, and smacked the broadside of it against Killer Moth's side.
SLAM!!
He fell hard against the railing of the catwalk as I jumped, vaulted off his back, and grabbed the object in mid air---only to have Gizmo soar down and smack into my side.
"!!!" I was sent spiraling down towards the open crowd below.
At the last second, I grabbed the edge of a rectangular, metal light fixture being suspended high above the theatre by four chains. I blurred my lower body and flipped myself up awkwardly onto the top of the precariously dangling platform of metal. I panted straight into the heated fans of two or three ambient lanterns.
Gizmo chuckled and hovered down onto a piece of the metal platform behind me. "Ha! Snotworm! Need a light?" he grinned.
I frowned at him…then grinned.
Holding the trigger in one hand, I swiped Myrkblade across the lengths of the two chains on my side, effectively severing them.
SLINK!! SLINK!!
Awkwardly balanced and awkwardly suspended, the entire light fixture swung like a huge pendulum high over the stage, over the backdrop, and sailed directly into the back wall, Gizmo-first.
"Uh ohhhh," he gulped.
I leapt off at the last second, sheathed Myrkblade, and grabbed onto a rope and pulley.
SMASH!!!!!
The orchestra and the gypsy's chorus drowned out the catastrophe.
Gizmo fell with the shattered debris, hovering as if his life depended upon it. And it did.
Dangling by one arm, I concentrated murk into my body and soared upwards on the rope, spiraling up it like an upside down comet.
I found myself progressing upwards into a literal cobweb of ropes and pulley systems for the various backdrops, stage pieces, and curtain folds. Far up above was another catwalk with a door that led towards the rooftop. I headed for it, jumping and grabbing from rope to rope at dizzying speeds.
But then, a few yards above me, Killer Moth swung in and grabbed the rope I was climbing. Using the sharp mandibles of his mask, he 'bit' through the rope causing it to fall in my grasp—and myself included.
I blurred over to another rope, swung, and propelled myself upward, grabbing onto Killer Moth's cord.
He merely slid down and rammed me with his foot.
From the contact, I lost grip of the trigger.
I let go of the rope, fell backwards, grabbed the trigger, flipped, and barely grabbed the end of another rope. As it turns out, the rope I grabbed this time was on one end of a cord that traveled through a pulley up above and dangled down onto the side that Killer Moth was holding onto. His greater weight took over. Soon he was gliding down on his end of the pulley system and I was flying up at him. A few feet away, he aimed a descending foot at my skull again. I pocketed the trigger, unsheathed Myrkblade, and positioned it on a cutting path up towards Killer Moth's ankles.
It's no surprise that he jumped out of the way. I managed to slice of a hard sliver of his mask. But no sooner had he leapt that I started drifting in the opposite direction, with my weight dragging me back towards earth. I was in mid-reach for another, nearby rope when something mechanical suddenly slammed me in the side. In mid flight, I managed to grab ahold of a nearby cord and swing around to face my enemy.
Gizmo was back, but now his backpack was sprouting four spider-like legs. He grinned, then came at me at full-force, his mechanical limbs acting as perfect arachnid limbs in their climbing of the ropes.
I spun around and made a break for it. I jumped and blurred from rope to rope like some sort of steroid, cyberpunk monkey with a tin daddy-long-legs chuckling in hot pursuit. At some point, Gizmo extended his laser rifles and started blasting as well. I spiraled around a rope or two and dodged as he chased me throughout the high-wire escapade. He then fired to distinct rounds that rang out in my ear. I grabbed hold of a rope at the far end of the rafters, swung around, and unsheathed Myrkblade in one massive swing that deflected the two blasts back at him. He ducked just in time to avoid the return fire, but was too late to escape my launched jump kick.
The contact turned into a sprawl and the sprawl sent the two of us falling down, bumping against ropes and cords, impacting a light fixture, rolling off, and plummeting to the backstage below. I grabbed onto a rope at the last second and slowed our decent—yes, the robot-legged Gizmo had grabbed onto me.
Needless to say, we struck the floor rather hard. He went tumbling and I went rolling and the trigger went sliding.
"AH!" Gizmo gasped. He tapped a button on his backpack and his robot legs 'snapped' off. Thus he had the lightweight mobility necessary to jump up and run over on midgety feet towards where the trigger lay.
Gritting my teeth, I tossed the metal legs off me, got onto my knees, aimed Myrkblade, and flung it straight at him.
SWOOOOOSH-SLUNK!!!
The blade skewered itself through the back of his jumpsuit and out the other side of the neckline. Though it avoided his skin, the utter velocity of the blade was sufficient enough to send him flying over the trigger, across the backstage, and embedded into a wall where he hung struggling: "Get me down! Get me down!"
I was about to dive for the trigger when a pair of fists slammed me down in the back. Despite the pain, I rolled over in the nick of time to avoid Killer Moth's stomping foot. I jumped up and faced him.
"Ha!" He cackled. "Not so tough with your sword, are yo—" WHAM!!!
After karate kicking him upside the chin, I gave his jaw a roundhouse punch then shoved both of my hands into his chest, sending him smashing through a set of wooden props.
Before he could get up, I spun around, dove, grabbed the trigger, rolled forward, hopped up, grabbed the Gizmo-skewered Myrkblade, and swung it at Killer Moth.
"WAAAAAAH!!!" Gizmo shrieked as he flung about on the end of my weapon.
Killer Moth jumped back with each swing I made.
SWOOOSH!! "AAAAAAH!!!" WOOOOSH!! "YAAAAAGH!!"
The costumed villain stumbled backwards.
I pointed Myrkblade at him, leaned back, and shoved my foot along the broad side of it, effectively sliding Gizmo off and kicking his body like a soccer ball straight into Killer Moth's chest.
WHUMP!! "OOF!" "UGH!"
I pocketed the trigger and was about to head back up towards the exit when a blast of pink light struck the floor beneath my feet. A wooden floorboard cracked and caused me to trip. The trigger went flying out of my hands and into the grasp of Mammoth, who had just entered upon the scene.
He grinned and waved at Jinx far above and behind me. Then he sneered down at me, "Looks like you're screwed, tangle-foot."
And that's exactly when a green pterodactyl dove in, snatched the item from his grasp, and soared up towards the rafters.
The look of defeat on Mammoth's face was priceless. I had to grin.
*GRIP*
My whole body winced as Killer Moth tightly gripped my skull in sharp glove-fingers.
Gizmo walked up beside my head and Jinx jumped down to join Mammoth and the gang as they all looked evilly up at Beast Boy, aimed various weapons and bludgeons and powers of pain towards my cranium, and threatened straight forwardly through Killer Moth: "Give us the trigger or we rip your friend up into a sideshow performance!"
Suddenly, a stream of bright power cut through the air and knocked all four villains off their feet. Freed, I jumped up with Myrkblade and looked towards the source of the salvation.
I smiled.
At the edge of the backstage, Cyborg stood with his laser rifle smoking. "Booooo…," he uttered.
Yah???
"Cy!!" Beast Boy waved the trigger from a rope on high.
A bright flash of pink flew at him, destroying a light fixture.
"Whoah!" the changeling barely caught his balance.
I spun around, saw Jinx standing with her hands outstretched, and kicked a piece of floorboard debris at her. She dodged, but was distracted in time for Cyborg to pounce in and ward the villains off with his laser rifle. Gizmo, however, flew out of range on his jetpack and pursued Beast Boy over our heads.
It had become 4v3.
"What took you so long?!?" Beast Boy called down, yelling over the noise of the play just beyond the backdrop and the ensuing orchestra. "We could have used your help sooner!" He yelped and dodged a blast or two from Gizmo.
"Long drive in the T-Car!" Cyborg shouted back, engaging in a fist-fight with Mammoth. "Almost got pulled over, dang it!"
"Only you?!" Beast Boy swung on a rope and perched atop a catwalk. "Where're the others?!"
"It's a long story. I'm as good as it gets!"
Cyborg dodged a punch from Mammoth, growled, and charged him straight in the stomach, slamming him against a styrofoam set of rocks and castle walls.
In the meantime, I was busy dodging and parrying Killer Moth's serrated gloves. Jinx stood in the background, taking a pot luck shot at me every now and then with her hex force. Floorboards and set pieces crumbled and flew at me, giving Killer Moth a fraction of a second of an advantage every now and then. I was starting to sweat.
Above me, Gizmo had caught up with Beast Boy and was wrestling with him for control of the trigger. The tumbled with each other on the catwalk. Gizmo sprouted various laser rifles, tasers, and robotic legs in his attempts and Beast Boy turned into just about every marsupial and primate in the book before the two slammed into a light fixture and the trigger fell completely out of their grasp and landed precariously on the very top of the stage's scenic backdrop. It wobbled, ready to tip over either backstage (on our side) or into the actual opera itself.
For once, everyone gasped at the same time. There was an unearthly pause as everyone considered their options at hand. Gizmo could have flown towards it, but he was entangled with Beast Boy. Killer Moth could have climbed up with his claws, but it would have taken too long. Finally, Jinx could have flung forth a hex bolt destroying the whole backdrop altogether. But that would mean the revelation of their presence and the possible catastrophe of their plan.
So I naturally did the selfish thing. I spun away from Killer Moth, ran towards the backdrop…and up it.
Every villain and every hero gasped or sweatdropped or bit their lip as I blurred my feet into whisping murk and literally ran up the flimsy backdrop. I made every effort to not fluctuate the illustrated scenery at all. I was in complete confidence that none of the rich people watching would have noticed a thing. When I reached the top, I grabbed the trigger, flipped, and perched gracefully on the flimsy backdrop in a victorious pose.
Both Beast Boy and Cyborg cheered.
And Jinx…well…she flung a hex bolt at me.
FLASH!!!
The trigger fell from my grasp.
In slow motion I watched, Killer Moth watched, Beast Boy watched, Gizmo watched, Cyborg watched, and Jinx watched as the device twirled in mid air, sailed down to the stage floor, and landed in between dancing gypsies.
Everyone flinched.
But the play went on.
Nobody noticed the intruding object.
Nobody save for a bratty blonde thing with her gypsy sandals on backwards. She bent over, picked up the device, and looked over the familiar item. Everyone gasped and waved and hissed from his or her spot looking into the play. Eventually she looked over and caught sight of her own father.
And nobody's sure what was in Kitten's head at the time. Maybe she was trying to get revenge for something her father did. Maybe she just wanted attention. Maybe she was high off of the chemicals Killer Moth constantly brewed for his creatures.
Whatever the case, she looked at all of us—Killer Moth especially—and proudly smiled and clicked her thumb over the infernal trigger.
And all our hearts fell.
-T-T-T-T-T-T-
Outside, to the rear of the West Haven Opera House, the Crystal Lake bubbled violently and then was still as the huge dome slid open underneath. Then, in the moonlit glow of the night, hundreds of ravenous, giant insects hovered their way about, fought amongst themselves, and then felt compelled by an inexplicable, chemically-induced instinct to migrate threateningly upon the unsuspecting theatre.