[LOOK HE'S NEW]

[knows_no_nose]

For once, Erik was thrown off. He had slid back one of his numerous trap doors and no arrived where he had expected. Perhaps he was no longer mad, but had fallen into the category of stark-raving insane

Comments

[cant_shag]

Owen walked innocently down the hall. He was in his usual "oh hay I'm dead doesn't that suck" vaguely bad mood.

[knows_no_nose]

Erik watched suspiciously. Was this one of his captors?

"Parlez-vous Francais?" he asked, throwing his voice so it sounded as though he had whispered in the young man's ear.

[cant_shag]

"Gah!" Owen jumped as if someone had walked over his grave. Too bad he didn't have one :(

"the bloody hell-" he muttered. Jerking his head from side to side, he scanned the corridor. "Hello? Who's there?"

[knows_no_nose]

"English" Erik said with derision, now speaking into Owen's other ear.

"Don't you know better than to make demands of ghosts, young man?"

[cant_shag]

"Ghosts." Owen paused, sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh great, that's exactly what I bloody well need."

He took up scanning the coridore again. "It would be useful to have Tosh and her sodding gadgets," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he called out, "you sure you're an actual ghost, and not some kind of malicious alien with cloaking technology or something?"

He was stealthily slipping one hand around his back and sliding it under the edge of his shirt to pull out the gun concealed there. Moving slowly, he brought it around in front of him, destroying an pretense of stealth by chambering a round. The click was loud in the relative quiet of the hall. Owen couldn't exactly get in a fist fight ok? If he wanted to stay ... not alive, it was probably wisest to shoot first and ask questions later :(

[knows_no_nose]

Erik knew a gun when he saw one-- though this seemed a great deal more sophisticated than the occasional pistol he'd dodged. He laughed, and the chilling noise filled the hallway.

"That is not terribly kind of you, Monsieur!" He said. His yellow eyes gleamed with excitement, the only part of him that was visible through the crack between the ceiling tiles. "How do you expect to shoot me when I am here...or here...or here!" he threw his voice every which way.

[cant_shag]

Owen cocked an eyebrow. "An alien that speaks French?" he asked. "Doesn't have very good taste then."

Owen had worked for Torchwood long enough to know misdirection when he saw it, or in this case, heard it. The source of the voice would be wherever the voice was not. Owen let his eye shut and focused on where the sound was not coming from.

"Why should I be kind?" he called out, to keep the thing talking. "You haven't given me a reason to be ... What do you want with me anyway?"

[knows_no_nose]

"First," Erik drawled, "you may tell me what business you had bringing me from my Opera House to this place. I am a very busy ghost, Monsieur, and my pupil must not be left to her own devices, fragile thing that she is. I have a salary to collect, you know!"

Erik crept along the rafters moving as quietly as possible until he was positioned directly over Owen.

"How does one make a trapdoor change destinations? Even I have never accomplished such a trick!"

[cant_shag]

"I've never heard of ghosts being paid of having pupils," Owen commented to keep the 'ghost' distracted. A brief smirk crossed his features. The long speach had done the trick. Crouching slowly down, the gun still held at the ready with one hand, he slipped off one shoe.

He straightened slowly with it held in one hand, then moving with sudden swiftness, chucked the shoe straight upwards at the ceiling tile as hard as he could, while throwing himself sideways. Landing on his back he slid, the gun now held in a 2 handed grip, pointed at whatever might come out of the ceiling.

[knows_no_nose]

Erik's flaws were too numerous to count, but one of them was arrogance-- after all, his most recent competitors had been twelve year old ballerinas. He was not expecting this.

The ceiling gave way and before he knew it, his thin body landed on the ground with a 'whumpf'. He scrambled in a very un-ghostlike way, blinded by the sudden light and very eager to SCAMPER SCAMPER RUUUUUUUUUN

[cant_shag]

"Ha!" Owen exclaimed triumphantly. "Ghost my ass."

As Erik turned to scampter away, Owen was scrambling to his feet as well, gun still out in front of him. "Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere! Freeze!"

A warning shot whizzed past the coat tails, burying itself in the floor in front of Erik.

[knows_no_nose]

Erik skidded to a halt, internally cursing. Just how did one man figure him out had trap him so effectively? Clearly, he was going soft...this would have been the death of him in Persia.

Cool and catlike, Erik turned around and raised his hands in the air in the universal sign of surrender. "Ah," he said, dramatically, from behind his mask. "A gendarme."

[cant_shag]

"Good-" Owen was nodding as the man stopped and turned around, hands raised. Then he paused and cocked his head. "What did you just call me?" he asked. Owen had not taken French in school. "And what the hell are you wearing? You look like some kind of Phantom of the Opera reject" was the next comment as he finally got his first good look at his adversary.

Sure he looked human enough but- "and what's under that mask?" In Owen's experience it could be absolutely anything; a cyborg, an alien, a weapon, or even nothingness. It could be about to get very bad. Owen cocked the gun again, keeping it expertly trained on the apparent man across from him. "Move slow, hands where I can see them, and take that mask off."

[knows_no_nose]

Now Erik was just confused. How could one be a Phantom of the Opera reject? Had his fame spread outside of Paris and France itself?

"As you wish, Monsieur," he said, taking the mask from his face in one smooth motion and then leaping towards Owen.

[cant_shag]

Not only was Owen a member of Torchwood, he was also a doctor. He hadn't been kidding about expecting anything under that mask. A man that looked like a corps was not going to throw him; he'd seen far worse.

The leaping at him was a different matter however. Owen was in no hurry to get in a potentially bown breaking physical fight. "Stop!" he yelled. "Don't-" He fired, shooting Erik in the thigh. Hopefully it would be enough to deter him. Owen was rapidly backing up just in case though.

[knows_no_nose]

Today was not Erik's day. He went down and managed to land with his weight mostly on his non-injured leg, but still wobbled and needed both his hands against the ground to stay upright. He hissed through his teeth and drew his cloak around him.

I could do with a trap door right now...

He began edging backwards slowly, waiting for a miraculous escape idea to suddenly occur to him.