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itscurtains2016-11-20 01:45 pm
stagemanagers) wrote in itscurtains2016-11-20 01:45 pm
WEEK 7
[Seven weeks later. Half of your number remains.
Nothing in the opera house seems all that different. The Box Office door has been locked after the death of its occupant, and there's a new copy of the house rules nailed to the front, with the last one circled heavily in black ink. The point has been made; the rest of you had better play your parts.
The crew members still aren't visibly walking the halls, but every so often there's movement in your peripheral vision, or vague half-heard whispers from the shadows. Every so often there's a thud or a snicker from inside the Merchandise Booth, though the stagehand inside will continue handing out prizes to those who earn them.
This may be your last week here. Make the most of it.]
[ooc: don't forget to submit your memories and check into the roll call!]
this is long and it's your fault, you monsters
In the morning, Hans stops by the Merchandise Booth one last time—he would have hoped for a weapon once upon a time, but the bunch of stuff he gets isn't bad either, given the cold. I mean, he leaves the Tony and the boots and junk (he isn't even going to touch the rope,) but one particular item catches his eye: a brown bomber jacket, tucked almost haphazardly under his own winter coat.
Hans pulls the unfamiliar jacket from the pile. The style isn't exactly familiar to him, and the smell of gunpowder doesn't exactly bring back fond memories, but... look, Hans spent a lot of the last week with the Balladeer, and even more during the month they'd spent here. He'd know that smell anywhere. ]
What the hell is this...?
[ He holds it up, runs his hands over the lining and holds it close for confirmation. It's definitely the Balladeer's jacket. It smells just like him, gunpowder and all. But the Balladeer was gone now, he'd never get to see it, never get to wear it.
For a moment, Hans doesn't know what to do. He stands there, thinking about all the things he could have said to the Balladeer before he died, all the ways he made the weeks here bearable, how he'd changed his life for good just by being there.
But he's gone. The Management killed him. And Hans, for all that he may not have pulled the trigger, for all that he may have refused to sell him out, may as well have been complicit in his death. It's a thought that makes his stomach fall, like a weight in his stomach and an ache in his chest all at the same time.
He starts to cry. Softly. (Good thing no one is looking.) After a while, he finally speaks. Now would be a horrible time to walk up to him, just as he's done crying over a weird jacket in his hands, but maybe you can catch him mumbling to himself. Just don't ask what he was crying about. Please. Hans isn't supposed to cry!! ]
If this is what having feelings is like, it's terrible.
[ Later in the day, Hans can be found looking for something to do. He's wearing the bomber jacket, (which actually fits him, unlike some people) and not his winter coat. Plus now that he's lost all need for pretenses, he's not wearing his gloves. Maybe you'll find him in the Art Studio, trying to make another really crappy bowl. Or maybe you've caught him in the tea room, though he's really interested in having tea, he just wandered in here.
Either way, he's not going to be hitting the bar today, after yesterday didn't really go so well. So maybe if you wanna run into him anywhere else just handwave it and we'll say he was totally walking by and saw you. He's doing pretty okay now. Or he will be, maybe. At least for today.
Hopefully. ]
Did somebody say horrible - Merch Booth
What he doesn't expect is to walk in on Hans having a feeling. An uncomfortably familiar feeling, that he's pretty sure is about his double.
Basically this is one of the most awkward things ever, but hey at least Hans isn't still wearing a tasteful splash of B's gray matter on his clothes.]
...Uh. Hey.
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But no, Hans, the people here aren't your brothers, they don't take everything good out of your life. They're just normal, scared people. Easy targets... except lately Hans has been a normal, scared person too. How awful. ]
What do you— [ He clears his throat, working the "just been crying" rasp out of his voice. Maybe Billy didn't see anything, he can totally play this off. He's Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles! ] What do you want?
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At the question, he holds out the small handful of silver coins that he brought with them and rattles them slightly.]
Just came to check and see if maybe any of my- my equipment was still in here.
...I think I kinda, uh. Get how you're feeling right now, though.
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[ He doesn't sound nearly interested, but he's kind of trying to get rid of him too. But oh right, Hans is... kind of in the way. He steps away from the booth and uses that chance to wipe his face a bit and regain his composure. ]
Go ahead, I won't stop you.
[ Cough, yeah, totally. He's just gonna. Leave his winter coat here and put on the Balladeer's coat while Billy does... whatever. ]
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And then the shadowy black arms pass through a folded pile of red fabric, with a pair of large black rubber boots, black safety gloves, and a pair of welding goggles.]
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
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What is that? A costume from home?
[ Hans steps up and around. It's kind of cool, huh? ]
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It's my- my supervillain costume.
[Since he's already admitted what he used to be.]
This- this was the one that I dyed red, after... after I was accepted into the Evil League of Evil.
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The "Evil League of Evil"?
[ Look, he believes you, that's just a dumb name. But he sobers up at the implication. He gets it. ]
So this was... after the accident, huh?
[ He won't make fun of that, he's not. 100% evil (anymore.) ]
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...Yeah, it was- yeah.
[He folds it up over his arm.]
Hey, there was... there was nothing you could've done.
[With a segue like that, it sure doesn't sound like just lip service sympathy.]
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The Management wanted to kill the Balladeer since he started going "outside his role," Hans knows that. He can blame himself all he wants, but ultimately... it was on them. Same could be said for Billy. Maybe. Probably not, but even Hans likes fake sympathy now that he's feeling awful enough to need it. ]
I could say the same to you. [ Hans pulls the jacket righter around himself, subconsciously. ] The Management pulled the strings. It was... it was their fault.
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[He knows there's approximately 50 other things he could have done to save Penny - chief among them being "anything but what he ended up doing" - but B is a different story.]
...He was ready to take the fall - as me - so that I- I could take over as the Showrunner. I just...wish I could have found a way to tell him that that wasn't what I was trying to do, at all.
If I hadn't done anything, we would've- we would've all turned on Seymour, probably. They'd have made us vote and it would have been wrong, and he... probably would have done the same thing.
[His fingers clench in the red fabric.]
We found out the truth. It made us mad, and it kept us from turning on each other. This is what he wanted from the start - just all of us working together.
[I wish he was here to see it.]
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[ There's a lot Hans wouldn't have done before that he would do now, but this was surprisingly one of them. ]
I knew Seymour was innocent. He... he confessed to me that he had killed someone at home, before he told anyone else. I think if he'd killed Natalie he would have confessed. [ Not that what-ifs are helpful right now, but. ] Of course, with the evidence piled up against him... you're right, we would have all turned on each other, one way or another.
[ The Balladeer always wanted them to work together. To avoid murdering one another and just... survive. They could still put on a good show without betraying one another, couldn't they? ]
It was a last-ditch plan. [ Bal, you idiot. Hans shakes his head, closing his eyes. ] He succeeded in the end, even if... even if it cost him his life, he got us all working together.
[ Needless to say, Hans would have rather done anything else, but those are the facts. And stating the facts is easier than talking about feelings. ]
What was it you were trying to do?
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I didn't...think it was a stagehand who killed her. I thought... I don't know. If I pretended like he was one of us, if I did it convincingly enough, maybe they'd...bring him out from backstage, and we could protect him.
[Remember how he stood at the edge of the stage pleading for B to come join them?]
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[ The Balladeer may not have divulged what would happen if he kept breaking them, but he was obviously on thinner and thinner ice as time went by... ]
The price for breaking the rules as a member of the crew, for stepping outside his role... we saw it that day. It wouldn't have... it wouldn't have helped.
[ Hans hates to be a downer, but he didn't tell the Management about their first switcheroo for a reason. That shit had to be against the rules. ]
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...It's hard to accept that there's nothing we could have done. I keep thinking about if I'd done this, instead of that, if I hadn't done X or if I'd done Y instead.
But all we can do is avenge him. And- and work together. Like he wanted us to.
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[ Hans nods. If the two of them can work together, then surely everyone else can...? ]
We'll get it right this time.