Third Trial

[stagemanagers]

[Once again, the sound of opening doors echoes through the opera house as the investigation draws to a close.

Time for your third trial.

The courtroom looks the same as ever, save that Darla and Eliza's podiums are now arranged in the same funerary fashion as the other deceased cast members. The lights from the bulbs standing in their places seem to cast the rest of the house even more in shadow, even as the crystal chandeliers still glitter dimly above. The Balladeer is hidden backstage once more, somewhere behind the red curtain drawn shut across the stage. Once everyone's taken their places, he speaks up.]

Alright. Let's do this.

Comments

EXECUTION: THE BALLAD OF HOOK

[tellthestory]

[As the final votes come in, the lights drop immediately. There's only a few seconds before the stage lights rise, with Hook somehow already up there. The Balladeer doesn't seem nearly as ambivalent about this execution as he has in the past; he fairly stalks onstage, hands empty, a piano melody Hook may find familiar starting around him.]

Captain, I am overjoyed
To meet you face to face
You've been getting quite a name
All around the place

Stealing fairies?
Fighting with some kid?
And now you've ended up in here
Let's discuss what you did

[The tone of the song turns mocking as he circles towards Hook. The by-now-expected shades of Eliza and Darla enter behind him, and for once, the Balladeer isn't deliberately ignoring them. He actually pauses and glances back to let them catch up, nodding a little at the Eliza double before turning back to grin at the Captain.]

So you are the Hook
You're the great Captain Hook
Why don't you try to get free?
You've just gotta get through me

Let's have this out, please!
You should do it with ease!
C'mon, king of the sleaze

Captain, you just won't believe
The splash you've made around here
Management loves your stuff
The laughing-stock of the year

Oh, what a pity
If it ends tonight
Still I'm sure that you can take
Us all out if you try

So if you are the Hook
You're the great Captain Hook
Prove to me that you're still fit
Kill someone who's expecting it

If you do that for me
Maybe you can go free
C'mon, you sleaziest sleaze

[He turns, spreading his arms wide in a “come at me” kind of gesture. When Hook lunges forward at him, though, he spins away as easily as if it were scripted, more a dance than a dodge.]

Or is there some reason you always fight with Pan?
Is it possible you are
Still far more boy than man?

I am waiting, yes, I'm dying to see
Captain, won't you show us
That you are not just cowardly~?

So if you are the Hook
Yes, the great Captain Hook
Ooze your way out of this fix

Hope you don't mind, my watch ticks
Or has something gone wrong?
Captain, why do you take so long?
Come on, king of the sleaze!

[The Balladeer doesn’t move as Hook comes at him again. Instead, the shadows do. Neither of them has any weapons, no cookies or no teapot, but they dart forward and grab for each of the man’s arms. As they take hold of him, Hook stumbles as if he’s been hit in the gut, even going gray in the face.

Except...no, that’s not it. It’s not his complexion that’s changing, but his skin. Lines are tracing their way across it, and his dark hair is beginning to pale. It may be true that no one ages in Neverland, but this isn't Neverland anymore, and it isn't long before Hook no longer looks quite like himself.

The Balladeer actually looks startled by all this, backing up several paces and casting a wide-eyed glance out over the heads of the audience into the darkness beyond. But he turns back as Hook begins to finally respond to him:]

...Oof! ...Oh-hooooo, yeah.

[Hook very visibly struggles to think of any sort of coherent response, and pounds his fist into his hands with frustration, grumbling to himself. He looks out into the audience with a dead-eyed glance. The Balladeer claps his hands and mouths “syphilis” to the audience, just before he continues.]

Oh! Are you frightened now, Hook?
Mr. Great Captain Hook?
You're a joke, you're just a tool
You're nothing but a craven fool!

Take him away
I've got no more to say
Get out, you sleaziest sleaze!

[He turns away again, waving a hand dismissively, and walks offstage as the shadows close in around Hook and the aging continues. It seems the man was, by rights, much much older than he seemed. By the time the stage lights finally go out, there's nothing but dust, running through the vague shadowy fingers of the two impostors.]