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PhantomKnight -> RE: World Stage (2/2/2014 14:30:07)
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Obeying his command, Caitlyn Bryony runs off to inform all of Cemberburg that the nefarious Gentleman Phantom has returned from the depths of hell. Sadly, many of her cries fall on deaf ears, as the hands of time have marched forward to the early hours of Christmas Day. Much of the city is now slumbering with sugar plums dancing in their heads; oblivious to the nightmare that has reawakened this night. They will awaken on the morrow to find that the day their savior was born will also mark the day their devil came back to the earth.
While most of the city sleeps, her plea is not completely ignored. She manages to come across a police officer making their nightly patrol. Stopping the young officer, she tells him the gruesome tale and the horrible truth of the mass murderer’s return. Shocked by her story, he informs his chief about the troublesome news.
Many members of the Cemberburg Police Department remember the awful events that transpired during the Phantom Rebellions, as they lost many good officers and family members. Such an event to plague the city again would be disastrous. That is something they do not wish to see repeated. Thus they ignore the danger and prepare to attack Gentleman Phantom head on.
With old wounds burning for revenge, a group of six officers, including Police Chief Jennifer Watkins, are dispatched to Cemberburg Theatre. They are equipped for a fierce battle that most likely awaits them once they step inside. Soon enough, they stand at the entrance to the theatre.
The once beautiful Cemberburg Theatre has fallen into disrepair, a victim of the hands of time over the past year. The carefully carved marble pillars that stood on either side of the door have crumbled; transforming the magnificent murals into deformed monstrosities. The brass that decorated the doors has corroded, as the wooden doors lay on the floor; glass sprawled over the carpet inside. The officers must bypass the hazardous state in order to enter the devil’s nest, and face the fiend that awaits them inside.
Stepping over the caution tape they themselves set up to ward off trespassers, they enter the building. They find themselves in the lobby, which was once filled with a deadly array of traps of Gentleman Phantom’s own design. Now they are all deactivated, though traces of their use still remain. The chief notices old blood staining the floor at her feet. Overhead, they see remnants of cables that, at one point, were used to ensnare and strange a soldier; transforming the corpse into a gruesome decoration. Thankfully, none of the traps appear to have been reactivated, as they easily pass through the lobby. They reach the double doors, and enter.
The stage has all the seats missing for the audience, which were removed when Gentleman Phantom claimed the theatre to be his domain. No lights remain on the stage, cascading the theatre in complete darkness. However, the crumbling ceiling has allowed beams of moonlight to pour into the theatre to give it a dim, eerie glow. A single ray of cascades light like a spotlight, illuminating a single player upon the stage.
The officers stare at the single player, who in turn, gazes back at the lot of them. The look on his face is painted, as his true identity remains hidden behind the infamous mask that he wears. The surface is smooth, the white mask removing any features of its wearer, giving him an inhuman appearance. Around each of the eyeholes is an ellipse ring; right eye colored in black, while the left remains white. Above and below the darkened eyehole are triangles, each pointed away from the eye. Lastly, a bright red smile is painted from ear to ear, symbolizing the sadistic nature of the man behind it. Although the mask appears comical in nature, much like a jester, the wearer is far from it; making it all the more daunting to those who look upon it.
The player sits in a rather lavish throne upon the stage, peering down on the officers as if he were their king. His head lazily rests against his right hand, which props itself upon the arm of the chair. His other hand hangs off the throne. Standing just before him is his blade, which stabs into the wooden stage.
Keeping the same posture, he asks the officers, “So, you are the group to come and try to put an end to me?”
Chief Jennifer Watkins steps forward to speak for her and her subordinates, “Yes, we are. Gentleman Phantom, you are under arrest for murder and high treason.”
“How amusing,” Gentleman Phantom chuckles.
“If you are not willing to cooperate,” she continues, “Or if you show signs of resistance, we will use lethal force.”
“Do you mean to kill me?” Gentleman Phantom asks, picking his head up from where it rests. “My dear, there have been so man in the past that have spewed those very same, stale lines to me. Why not be a bit more creative?”
His right hand slides forward, reaching for the blade.
“Or better yet,” he laughs, “Simply be more honest with yourself. You are simply here to be offerings; sacrifices. Here you stand, ready to be food for my blade, and nothing more.”
Gentleman Phantom attempts to grab the blade, but never gets the chance. A loud “bang echoes through the theatre, as one of the officers pulled out their gun, and shot the masked madman before he could even grab his weapon. The body slumps back in the seat.
“Gregory,” Jennifer barks at the officer, once she realizes what had transpired, “We were supposed to capture him alive, if we could.”
“I-I am sorry, sir,” he apologizes, lowering his weapon. “I guess I got a little jumpy.”
“Fear not,” a sinister voice hisses from the stage. “Or rather, be afraid…”
All turn to see Gentleman Phantom, standing on his feet, with blade in hand. Gregory quickly takes another shot; acting purely out of fear instead of his obligation as an officer. The bullet strikes the fiend square in the chest, knocking him off balance, but he does not fall.
Seeing that he stands strong, the other officers reach for their guns, and begin a shooting spree; using lethal force to the point of excessive. As every shot penetrates him, the masked madman thrashes in response, the force of the bullet tossing his body like a ragdoll.
They continue to shoot, until their guns run out of bullets. Every member of the police force standing there waits patiently for his corpse to tumble onto the stage. To their surprise, as well as their horror, Gentleman Phantom remains standing. He surprisingly keeps his composure even after suffering such a terrible barrage, the blade at his side stays gripped firmly in his gloved hand. The force shivers as he lets out a sickening laugh; although by the wheezing of his breath, he is in pain.
“I am also familiar with this kind of resistance,” he says, staggering forward, before standing upright. “Humans are so predictable. You pointlessly struggle to stave off the inevitable. You all know that your lives will end tonight, and I shall be the one to slay every single one of you. So I ask you this: why fight your fate? Allow yourselves to give in, and allow my blade to feast.”
Like the typical humans he expects them to be, they do not accept the fate he wishes from them. He is shot once more, but this time it is from Chief Jennifer Watkins who discharges a bullet from her weapon. The wicked phantom has his head thrown back by the force of the shot. Fragments of the mask scatter at his feet. Blood splatters onto the stage, as the villain tumbles back into his throne; his body flailing like a marionette whose strings were just severed. Even as his body lies there lifelessly, he still keeps the blade bound in his hand.
“Good shot, sir,” Gregory speaks to her, almost bursting with excitement.
She glares at him, as well as the rest of her officers, “If you would have realized he was wearing body armor, you would have aimed for the head as well.”
“Yes sir,” the officers say in unison, apologizing for letting fear get the better of them.
Despite the serious attitude, she cannot help but allow a smile to creep onto her face, “Alright, get a body bag in here. We’re done.”
With the madness at an end, she turns to leave the theatre; allowing her subordinates to deal with the cleanup. Suddenly, she stops dead in her tracks, as a shock sends a paralyzing jolt through her body. A stabbing pain from her chest forces her to look down. Protruding from her chest is Gentleman Phantom’s sword.
“I-It can’t be,” she says, as she painfully gasps for air.
Fearfully, she glances back at the stage. The fiend stays slumped in his throne, but shows signs that he has not left his world. His left arm stretches outward toward her, frozen at the position where he threw his weapon.
The remnant of the mask that remains on his face reveals a beastly sapphire blue eye that gazes back at her. A manic smile is spread across his face, even as blood streams from his forehead. To her, as well as the others, he is not a human, but a monster; a demon.
Leaping off the stage with a second blade in hand, the hell spawn that is Gentleman Phantom approaches the slowly dying police chief. The wicked grasp of death is slowly reaching for her soul to drag it down to the underworld. But to Gentleman Phantom, her perishing slowly would not do. With no mercy, he beheads her. The image of his sinister expression burns into her eyes as her head hits the floor.
She leaves the terrified officers with the demon. The madman laughs evilly, as he rips the blade from her headless corpse. Now with two blades in either hand, he has become twice as deadly.
“I will tell you again,” he sneers, unable to control his laughing. “There is no hope for you. Simply accept the inevitable. Allow me to eat!”
Not wishing to accept such a fate, the officers back toward the exit, preparing to flee with their lives. He watches with an evil intent, consuming their fear for his own delight. To further torment them, he holds out his swords, making the holy cross with the blades. It is a blasphemous gesture for someone so wicked to do such.
“From the deepest depths of hell,” Gentleman Phantom hisses, “I rose from the dead to reawaken my performance. And with me, I brought the flames of eternal sin and sorrow!”
He pulls the blades apart, purposefully scrapping the steel against each other. A few sparks leap from the point of contact. A moment later, the blades are ignited with fire. Each weapon becomes wrapped in an intense flame whose heat can be felt by the officers. The black-hearted fiend has transformed the pair of rapiers into his own satanic swords.
Swinging the blades, the fire dances. Embers fall around him like hellish snow. Just the sight of the devilish blades seems to drain what little courage the officers had left. Every one of them turns to run for the exit.
Enjoying the sight of their flight, Gentleman Phantom calls out to them, “A meaningless effort. You cannot escape what has already been determined by the threads of fate.”
He stabs the fiery blades into the ground on either side of him. The flames slither from the blade as if manipulated by demonic powers, becoming twin fire snakes that chase after the police officers. The blazing serpents snake their way toward the exit, racing against the desperate men who flee for their lives. Though the police had a head start, it is the fiery snakes that reach the exit first. The fire quickly consumes the door, transforming into a gate of flames that cuts off the only way to escape.
These men must turn back to the stage, realizing they are trapped in hell with the devil himself. Slowly, Gentleman Phantom steps toward them while the theatre becomes engulfed in an inferno. Each sword blazes brightly, starving for human flesh.
“Come, come,” he taunts them, laughing sadistically, “One at a time, or all together, it matters not to me. Summon whatever pitiful courage you may have left. Come now, face me!”
Answering the call, the officers cast aside the devouring fear, and charge head on at the demon. Though they show signs of bravery once more, it is futile. Gentleman Phantom carves up every man that reaches his blade, laughing maniacally as he does so. The hellish rapiers slice through their bodies, burning their insides. Each of their deaths is extremely painful, as they shriek in utter agony.
Four officers lay dead; their corpses are slowly eaten by the fire that crawls toward them. Only the most cowardly, Gregory, remains. While the others were bravely confronting the masked devil, he was attempting to flee through the wall of flames. The flesh on his hands is scorched black, as he digs at the door on the other side of the demonic seal. Realizing there is no escape for him either, he turns to face the devil.
Gregory does not attack. Instead, he falls to his knees, cowering before Gentleman Phantom like a frightened child facing the boogeyman. Seeing the state the officer is in brings a smile to the fiend’s face, as he begins his approach.
“No stay away from me,” Gregory screams in a high-pitched voice.
His mind slowly corrodes, as his sanity breaks down from the unholy miracles that have taken place before his very eyes. Gentleman Phantom, the serial killer who was once dead has risen from the grave to bring about another horrible performance. To make matters worse, the masked madman appears to be immortal, having survived a barrage of bullets, and even a blow to the head. He seems to be able to summon and manipulate the fires of hell, no doubt an ability he obtained from his time in the depths of the underworld. To Gregory, the entity that stands before him is less of a man, and more of a demon.
Witnessing the demon coming closer, Gregory shrieks again, “Get away. You’re a monster! You’re a monster!”
“A monster, am I?” Gentleman Phantom laughs at the thought. “Then allow me to show you the monstrosities that I will ensue.”
Gregory screams again, until his throat strains from overuse. The once proud officer of the law has devolved into a mindless being. He is nothing more than another body for Gentleman Phantom to butcher.
Just before the blazing blades reach him, a flash of sanity enters the empty space of his mind. He does not wish to give the masked demon the pleasure of cutting him down. His hands quiver, as he reaches for the pistol at his belt. Frightened eyes look up at the masked man that has tortured Cemberburg, and killed thousands. Placing the barrel under his chin, he shuts his eyes for the last time. Then, he pulls the trigger.
“Such a waste,” Gentleman Phantom growls under his breath as he watches the man take his own life.
He seems almost agitated that he was robbed of his prey.
“And yet,” the madman speaks, giving a second thought. “I do not say I cannot understand his reasoning for making such a final choice. After all, a quick and painless death outweighed what I had in store for him. Regardless, I would have preferred that he had given his life to me to end.”
Chuckling softly to himself, Gentleman Phantom looks at the damage he has caused. The fire has nearly consumed the entire theatre, transforming the place into a hell on earth. Deciding that it would be unwise to stay, he passes through the blazing gates that blocked the exit. He manages to pass through without being burned. Stepping outside into the cold night air, he turns to Cemberburg Theatre; seeing the place he had at one point called home being swallowed by flames.
The fire casts a haunting glow over him, making his figure appear all the more evil looking. The masked phantom now stands alone on the streets of Cemberburg. On this Christmas Day an evil sets in motion for the people of this city.
“Quite a befitting opening scene,” he hisses to himself, watching the fires dance towards the heavens. “On the day the savior is born, I, Gentleman Phantom have escaped the fires of hell to join the land of the living once more. Let this joyous holiday mark the beginning of my glorious performance. I shall drown the people of this city in a sea of blood and despair. Prepare yourself, Cemberburg, for a monster has been let loose!”
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