OVERTURE

[stagemanagers]

You wake up, and realize you don’t remember how you got here.

This bed is soft and warm, but it’s certainly not yours. And the room is unfamiliar - unless perhaps you’re an actor, seeing as it looks almost exactly like every dressing room in the world. It's not quite large enough to fit the bed and trunk comfortably alongside the vanity, but it what it lacks in open space, it makes up for in coziness. This could be something you’ve seen in a movie, or dreamed about experiencing one day. But whatever the case, you aren’t supposed to be here.

There’s a silver key resting on your vanity, along with a thin program booklet. The cover - where the name of the show would usually be - is blank, but if you flip through it, you’ll find some startlingly familiar information. Maybe a few familiar faces as well…

The hallway outside is narrow and poorly-lit, lined with star-studded doors. But if you make your way past them and out into the lobby, you’ll find something entirely different: an elegant, refined opera house. Crystal chandeliers glitter overhead, and the red carpet is perfect for putting on a show. A large clock on the northern wall marks the time, though with the windows shuttered and locked it's difficult to tell whether it's morning or night. There’s also some framed information pinned up that you might find helpful. If you explore further into the adjoining wings, in fact, you'll see there's an identical copy in every room.

There’s also two sets of double-doors in the lobby: one leading back the way you came, deeper into the Opera House, and one leading out. For the moment, neither of them will open.

It looks like you’re stuck. But hey - at least you aren’t alone.

Comments

[blackstache]

[Hook is quick to note that this isn't his room, and it's immediately noted to be much more comfortable. The scent of blood is nonexistent here, and neither is the smell of seawater. It's curious, and he immediately thinks of it as some sort of prank conducted by that miserable Pan.

His attention is taken away from this upon inspection of the room, as he finds the booklet. James picks up the strange-looking booklet, and begins to read. He stops at his own entry, and chuckles.]

Such a delightfully handsome visage, if I do say so myself.

[He begins to read and his face sours, contouring into an expression of disgust.]

Captain Hook, [His eye twitches, and his mustache almost droops.] is not a washed-up coward.

[Oh, this takes immediate precedence. Such naysayers to the Hook name would be made to walk the plank, of course! He stomps out of his room, booklet impaled on his hook, and yells to nobody in particular.]

Who is responsible for this trite?! Who has attempted to sully the good name of Captain Hook?! Show yourself now!

[rockthistown]

[Hime shrinks back with a desperate wish to become one with the wallpaper, but shakes her head.]

I don't know. There's something weird about this theatre. I don't even remember arriving here!

[blackstache]

Aye, clearly this is the work of that rapscallion, Peter Pan. What of yourself, then? What grudge does the boy have with you?

[He sneers as he inquires, jabbing his hook forward.]

[rockthistown]

[She flattens against the wall and swallows hard.]


I don't know any Peter! Especially not one who kidnaps people. Is this really Harmonia? I thought it might be, but I don't remember actually going there yet.

[blackstache]

My dear girl, I've never heard of such a place in all of my life!

[He lets out a loud chortle, drawing back a bit.]

Certainly a long ways off from Neverland.

[rockthistown]

You mean, where you're from? Then who knows where we are... [deflates] Maybe it's on the signs.

[blackstache]

I am not from Neverland. I was last docked in Neverland. I hate Neverland.

[james sneers, bringing the hook up to his chin as he taps it in thought.]

Where would those signs be, perchance?

[dechagny]

[Jesus Christ what the hell just stormed out of that room? Does that man have a hook for a hand? No - no, that's only in fairy tales, men don't take to hooks for hands in real life!

See these eyebrows Hook? They're going waaaay up.]

Sir, you would have better luck finding whoever wrote all of this if you did not yell...

[blackstache]

I will yell whenever I want, sir. In fact, I feel that now is an especially appropriate time to do so!

[look at him go]

[dechagny]

Frankly, sir? It is a terrible time to be losing your head over a silly paper booklet.

[Yeah, if you're gonna insist on being loud and startling, Raoul is very much going to snark at you. He's trying very, very hard to keep his own patience here.]

[blackstache]

I take it you haven't read this schlock yet.

[Hook points his hook uncomfortably close to the other man, booklet still impaled on it.]

Lies! Libel and slander, all of it!

[dechagny]

I've seen enough of it to know it's completely suspect-

[Dooooodging the hook, Christ on a cracker, whose bright idea was it to implement hooks as prosthetics??]

That - the writer - sees fit to call us actors!

[breakingbread]

...I don't believe anyone knows that, monsieur. [He is surprisingly not freaked-out by the yelling stomping pirate, though that outfit (and the hook) do garner a furrowed brow.] Ah, but forgive me - it is Captain, isn't it?

[blackstache]

Correct. Captain James Hook, at your service.

[He extends the hook out...for a handshake.]

[breakingbread]

[...yeah you know what okay. Why the fuck not. Valjean takes the curve of the hook to shake.]

Ulti -

[The name comes automatically to his lips, but halfway through he hesitates, then smiles ruefully. Ah, that is pointless. His name and face have already been distributed here for everyone to see.

Who is he?]

Jean Valjean. [It seems to take him a little strangely, actually saying his own name out loud, but no reason to be rude...] Are you a ship's captain?

[blackstache]

I am indeed - good form! I am the captain of the Jolly Roger, my good man. The finest ship to have ever sailed the blimey blue.

[He smirks, pulling back his hook.]

What of you then, Mr. Valjean? What am I to make of you?

[breakingbread]

[So he really is a pirate. Well, Valjean isn't one to judge.]

A father, Captain. I only wish to return home to my daughter - she must be frightened, to have found me missing.

[lol, kinda his worst nightmare, nbd]

But there seems to be no way out. This is more like a prison than an opera house.

[solomonjihad]

...You mean the pamphlet?

[She's staring at the hook. An Undead...hook...vampire...um.........?????]

[blackstache]

[She gets an equally dismissive pamphlet.]

Yes, the pamphlet. The pamphlet and all of it's lies and misgivings and utter nonsense contained within!

[solomonjihad]

...Well, I know I'm not an actress...

[The pamphlet is kind of weird. Also do you need help getting those papers off the hook?? She is looking at it, trying to figure that out.]

[trettende]

[ Well, at least the "Hook" part was accurate? Hans had just been (mostly trying to) read the playbill in this awful light when Hook storms out. ]

Have they printed lies about you too?

[ Calling him "unwanted" and "unnoticed," how dare they. ]

[blackstache]

[swoggle me eyes, hook almost forgets to speak while he's trying to take in those freaking sideburns.]

Aye, I'm afraid so. They're no doubt trying to ruin me reputation! Of course, once I "speak" to the person who wrote this garbage, I'm sure their tune will change.

[trettende]

[ Look, he didn't say anything about your ridiculous stache, I would say we're quite even! ]

And what reputation might that be, if I may ask, Mr... Hook?

[blackstache]

That of the greatest villain of all time, of course.

[trettende]

[ Hans gasps! The shock! He's not shaking, of course, but he's impressed. ]

My goodness, that's quite the reputation indeed!