Show Business

"WHAT?!" Alice Kirkland's voice boomed throughout the entire room. "I have to get RESCUED in this play?!"
"You got it," the drama teacher said, looking incredibly humored. "You have proven yourself very good at screaming."
"THAT WAS A BATTLE CRY!" Alice screamed. She was in the show Rapunzel, and she had gotten the lead part.
"I'm sorry, but you make a better Rapunzel than a prince. If you would like, you could hand your script to somebody else."
"No, I'll do it," Alice said in a strained voice. "I'll play Rapunzel." She looked at the script skeptically. "Might as well give this a shot."

Bridge had to bite back a laugh as he watched the little prima donna's outburst. Rapunzel was a story old as time, and he had a hard time believing that there were people who didn't know the plot. He had to ask himself what this girl was doing, auditioning for the show if she didn't want to play the part of the damsel in distress. This was not the first time he'd seen a wannabe leading lady throw a hissy fit over the part she was cast in, and it certainly would not be the last, but he never found them any less entertaining.

The changeling himself was in the back, invisible as usual. He had his feet up on the unoccupied chair in front of him, his own personal copy of the script in his lap. Bridge was on crew for the show, like he always was, and he knew there was no better place for him. A good crewman was never seen, and that was exactly how Bridge liked it. A few of the regulars 'in the know' knew about Bridge's presence, others thought he was a ghost. Most of the time, his existence was explained with a simple 'if you don't see him, he's doing his job,' from either the teacher or one of the more experienced students.

But because one was never seen did not mean one was never heard. Sometimes Bridge liked to take advantage of his invisibility and mess with people. Making things levitate, or whispering random things when they thought they were alone. That was exactly what he'd planned on doing to the new prissy little princess. He tucked his script away in his bag, and made his way towards her, carefully weaving through the other people in the room. Running into people while invisible wasn't fun, and Bridge had already been on the short end of that stick. It wasn't an experience he'd planned to repeat.

He stood next to the girl, towering over her short stature. "If you didn't want the part, then why did you audition?" Bridge questioned quietly, waiting for her to jump. If they were alone, he would've become visible at that moment, but as it was, he didn't want Miss Montgomery getting mad at him for interrupting rehearsals. "Don't worry, there are hundreds of girls waiting in the wings to take your place." Bridge grinned to himself.

"I wanted the part of the prince," Alice muttered to the unseen voice, trying her best not to jump. Yeah, that wasn't weird at all.
She flipped through the script. "Maybe this is a diamond in the rough part." She stopped at one part. "That sounds pleasant. 'Rapunzel hesitates, then takes the prince's sword and kills the witch'. Ha! Who knew? Rapunzel is a—" She paused,not wanting to reveal she was a demon hunter just yet.

Bridge cocked an eyebrow. Wanted the part of the prince? At her height? This was a joke, right? Bridge rolled his eyes, glad no one could see him. Sometimes he genuinely wondered if the actors considered all the things that had to go into casting. It was more than just acting ability or how much you wanted the part. There was also a physical aspect. The phrase 'look the part' extended far beyond the use of costumes and make up. For example, shortly before coming to the states, Bridge had been at auditions for a touring production of Hairspray, and had seen more than one little white girl turned down for the role of Little Inez.

When he saw how excited she got about getting to use a sword to kill the witch, Bridge almost let out a loud guffaw. This girl couldn't handle a sword. Even the swords he knew were sitting in the props room would look gigantic against this girl. And even then, it would be stage combat. There would be no actual stabbing involved.

"Hate to burst your bubble kid, but you don't actually get to stab anyone. It's a prop sword, and you're going to be doing stage combat."

It did concern Bridge how excited the girl got at the thought of violence, though. That wasn't normal, by anyone's standards. "And I wouldn't get too excited about character development. You're playing a nineteenth century princess with a bunch of hair. Your entire character can be summed up as 'damsel-in-distress'."

Bridge thought for a moment, considering what the prince had to go through. "Oh, and the prince is blinded. So you've got that going for you."

Alice groaned. "Stage props? So I can't use my—" She covered her mouth and hastily changed the subject. She was not willing to reveal she had inherited a sword for demon-slaying and was kind of under a curse so demons followed her everywhere she went. "Damsel in distress, huh? Well, I tried..."

Bridge's eyes widened in incredulity. This girl was disappointed that she was going to have to use a prop sword, instead of a real one? That was a basic safety precaution. Theatre was all about the illusion, making the audience see what you wanted to see. In his time as part of the Masquerade drama department, Bridge had seen Miss Montgomery pull off some pretty amazing "theatre magic," which was saying something, because Bridge had seen real magic.

Real magic he'd vowed never to use again, because of his accident. The only reason he allowed himself to use his power of invisibility because it didn't hurt anyone. It protected him from the prying eyes and the rapid fire questions. Why do you wear the bandages? What's under them? Can you take them off? or what happened when they found out what was underneath. Oh my god! How did it happen? Can I touch it? That's disgusting! Bridge was still a person, not a sideshow freak, and he knew just how cruel teenagers could be. That wasn't something he wanted to subject himself to.

Instead, he decided to focus on educating this naive young child on the inner workings of the ancient art of drama.

"Of course it's a prop sword. You didn't think you'd actually get to stab people, did you? Do you have even a basic concept of how theatre works?" More often than not, Bridge had seen people come into the drama department not having a single clue about how things worked, or how much effort went into a show. There were hours and hours of rehearsal, most of which ended in blood, sweat and tears. And then there came the week of the show, colloquially known in some circles as "Hell Week" but was generally officially known as "Tech Week," and good luck if you were planning on getting any sleep that week.

"Because it sure seems like you have no idea what you're doing."

Alice sighed. "I have acted before. Each time, I played a prop. Please, do not ask. Glacfar rabadh dúr osnádúrtha úsáid mé mar liathróid sacair." The last part was in Irish. It was funny in that way. She burst into that language at random times. Translated, it meant 'those stupid supernatural jerks used me as a soccer ball'. Alice didn't bother to translate. She read the script once again. "Well, it's worth a shot. Tá súil agam nach bhfuil sé a fhios Ghaeilge," she added to herself.

Bridge's ears perked up when he heard the girl speaking Irish. That was something he hadn't heard in a long while. While he was born in a small town in Wales, his mother was a fullblooded Irish woman, and taught him a few things here and there. Most of it were phrases he never dared repeat, especially in polite company, but she taught him enough that he could grasp the basics of the language if he heard it. He couldn't speak it, because he'd never bothered to learn that much. Speaking Welsh was hard enough, he didn't need Irish cluttering his brain too.

He was amused that this girl had been used as a soccer ball, but questioned what sort of 'supernatural jerks' would do that to a little girl, even one as loud and pointedly obnoxious as this one. Obviously she was more than well versed in the world of things just beyond the scope of 'normal,' but Bridge had figured that when she seemed content to have a conversation with a voice whose source she couldn't see. Most people didn't carry on talking to disembodied voices. And if they did, they were generally not all there in the head.

"A soccer ball, huh?" he asked, allowing himself a small laugh. "Unfortunately for you, I do know a little Irish. And you might want to watch who you call a 'supernatural jerk.' Some of us might take offense to that."

Knowing what a huge risk he was taking, especially using the power he was about to use, he placed himself directly in front of the girl, and stuck out his hand. He wiggled his fingers, multicolored sparks flying from them. He pulled back from the sparks, allowing them to be visible to the girl. The source, his hand, however, was still invisible, so it seemed as if there were little rainbow sparks appearing out of nowhere.

"You have absolutely no idea what the people at this school can do. I'd watch your step if I were you."

Alice sighed, trying not to act amazed, even though her green eyes were larger than tennis balls. "I have a general idea." She didn't want to go into detail. "Let's just say that my hometown is—" She tried finding the word. "Interesting, cruel, insane? I'm the only mortal there, and I've kind of hidden in my manor with my servants for a while..." She really hoped this wasn't weird at all, being rich, mortal, and on the hunt for an evil demon. "Have you seen this demon, about fifty feet tall, light green, and very skilled in pyrotechnics? Blowing stuff up?"

Bridge shook his head, before realizing the girl couldn't see him. Of course he'd never seen a fifty-foot tall green demon. He tended to stay away from creatures of the underworld. They tended not to mix will with creatures of the fae realm like himself. Bridge didn't even like associating with other fae, and if he could avoid it, the other students at the school. For someone as antisocial as the changeling, demons with a fire fetish were a bit out of his comfort zone.

"Can't say I have. Not really my kind of company," Bridge said, shaking his head again, even if she couldn't see it. It still felt right.

"But demons aside, you've got more pressing matters to deal with. Doing a show is a full time commitment, and if you can't give it your all, I highly recommend you drop out now." Bridge advised. He'd seen a lot of people try to juggle a show with other activities, who weren't able to give the best performance. He'd even seen Miss Montgomery cut people from a show for not being able to show up to rehearsals due to conflicts. It sounded like demon hunting was something that was going to take up a lot of this girl's time, but as a lead, her head needed to be completely focused on the show.

"Remember, you are replaceable, and we will not hesitate to cut you," Bridge warned.

"Okay," Alice said. She would not let this demon get in the way of everything. "I think it's about time I took a break from my personal life."
She was right on her comment and would never miss any rehearsals, despite what was going on around her.
"I came here to act, and act I shall," she said to the voice. It sure was strange doing this. "I wonder who got the other lead parts."
(a way for somebody to jump in, I guess!)

This had been a giant mistake. Chance's entire goal at Masquerade had been to lay low, not draw attention to himself, so auditioning for the play was a terrible idea. And yet, Chance Dunway wasn't exactly known for making the smartest decisions ever. His criminal record could attest to that. And that was how he found himself already a half hour late to play practice, only further proof that he pretty terrible at making wise choices with his life.

He hadn't wanted to audition, but some of his friends had thought it would be funny to see Chance on stage, and never one to back down from a challenge, the bone-headed teenager had done it. And apparently the drama teacher, Miss Montgomery had seen fit to put his name on the cast list. He didn't think he was all that great of an actor, but apparently she did, and in the theatre, her word was law. Not that laws had ever been very high on Chance's list of priorities.

To get himself motivated to go, he saw it as another challenge, something to take on. There was very little Chance wouldn't do if he set his mind to it, and this show was just going to be another notch in his adventuring belt. Compared to cliff diving in Mexico or Parisian parkour, this should be a walk in the park.

But no amount of dangerous stunt pulling could've ever prepared him for the dirty looks he got when he walked into rehearsal, script in hand.

"Sorry I'm late," he said sheepishly, one of the few times Chance had ever felt sheepish in his life. He was usually confident to a fault, what some might even describe as cocky, but this was a whole new ball game for him. It would take him a while to get his footing.

"But let's get this over with, yeah? 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your long hair' and all that jazz?"

You have got to be kidding me. Bridge thought to himself when someone decided to show up late to rehearsal. Drama was an art that waited for no man, not even a cocky jerk like the guy that had just walked in. Bridge stared daggers into the guy, even though the newcomer couldn't see him. Bridge hoped he could feel the seething heat of his anger, and was actually a little relieved that his sparks came from his fingers and not his eyes, because if they were an optical power, there was a good chance that the new guy would've been set on fire by now.

"At least you're not that guy," Bridge whispered to the girl. It took a minute, but he recognized the guy from auditions. He didn't seem to take much of anything seriously, and it had blown Bridge's mind that Miss Montgomery had cast him, as the Prince no less. Bridge could name at least four different people off the top of his head that would've been better choices for the Prince, but Miss Montgomery's decisions were final, and no amount of pleading from the stage manager was going to change her mind.

But that didn't mean that Bridge couldn't try running the guy off. Sure, most theatres were supposedly haunted, but no one outside those who knew about the things that go bump in the night believed in those sorts of things. But he would keep it simple for now, a brush here and there, maybe a couple of whispered words or moving objects. Nothing to make him too suspicious his first day, and nothing to garner any attention from Miss Montgomery. Bridge didn't want her to get mad at him for running off her male lead before it was too late to do anything about it.

He left the girl behind, walking over to the new guy and should checking him. It was difficult for someone lithe and lanky like Bridge to push past someone as solidly built as the new guy, but he managed to do it with a little effort.

Alice looked blankly at Chance and said nothing but, "bloody hell, why am I suddenly lightheaded?" Oh, yeah. She still was resentful.
"So, you got the part of the prince," Alice said, trying not to make her voice rise in the constant anger she normally had. "That's...nice..." She closed her eyes. Backing away was rude, as she had figured out later. Might as well make conversation..."Read any good books lately?" What a stupid question...