"The Cylon of the Opera - Act 1" - BSGxPOTO - PG13 - 3/7 (2/4)
Title: The Cylon of the Opera
Fandom: Battlestar Galatica/The Phantom of the Opera
Rating: PG-13
Notes: When I say Phantom fandom I mean ALL of the fandom. A lot of it is based on the book, bits of it from the Webber's musical, and hints of Kay's "Phantom" and the Yaston/Kopit musical.
Warning: this chapter opens with a brief mention of suicide.
Prologue
Act 1, Scene 1
Act 1, Scene 2
Act 1, scene 3 - The Rebirth and Return of Leoben
--------------------------------------------------
[cut for possible triggers]
Death isn't the end, death is simply the beginning of a new cycle. With that thought fixed firmly in mind Erik Leoben pushed away the pain this body was in, pushed away the ache in his arms, pushed away the stretching of skin in his hands, pushed away the popping of blisters on his palm - pushed that away and grabbed the razor blade Brother Cavil had left after his visit.
With all the force of will he had left in his scared, broken, body Leoben ended this life and rushed towards a new one.
All this has happened before.
Waking with a gasp, Leoben found himself back at the Opera House, yet not the backstage labyrinth he was familiar with but the main auditorium. The rich reds and glowing golds warmed him as if they gave off heat. Sparkles of light, fracturing into rainbows that danced across his skin, flowed down from the crystal chandelier the hung high in the dome. His gaze drifted over the painted ceiling and gilded statues to the tiers of boxes and then - his breath caught. There in the Olympic Box stood five figures robed in white so bright they could be mistaken for stars.
The Final Five.
The figure in the middle gracefully lifted an arm and pointed towards the stage. Forcing himself to turn around Leoben was presented with a sight just as amazing.
An angel!
On stage was a young woman. Her pale blond hair was lose around her shoulders and she was wearing a simple shift; yet it was the same shining white so her whole body seemed to glow. She lifted her arms, as if begging the gods, and then began to sing.
The beauty of her voice, this place, the small glimpse of his creators, it was all too much. Leoben dropped to his knees as tears ran down his face.
The angel on stage turned to look at him, “Don't weep for me, Erik. I have my destiny.”
All this will happen again.
A wave swept over him and he began to struggle; fighting to reach the surface, to get back to her.
“It's alright brother, you're safe now.”
He sat up in the birthing tub, coughing and spitting out liquid.
“Your pain is over, Leoben.”
He looked at the Six who was stroking his hair away from his face, “My name is Erik.”
--------------------------------------------------
The small council room was filled with the chatter of voices and One was sick of it. “Yes!” he smacked the table with enough force to make it shake - and get the other models attention. “It's strange, this sudden name change but I've never been in favor of using names beyond the covers for our embeds. If he calls himself Leoben or if he calls himself Erik, I don't give a frak. The only thing I want to know is can he continue his mission or do we need to waste time training someone else?”
“We've always been sensitive to the cycle of time and the voices of God,” the Two representative spoke up, “Leoben claims that during his download he saw an angel. Maybe she is a warning from God.”
“But a warning for us or for the humans?” the Eight asked.
“It's not like there is an exact science to interpreting visions,” Two shrugged as he answered. “One person says a tree means one thing, a second person says it means something different. Sometimes a tree is just a tree.”
“Yes, but is this girl just a girl?” One failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Four broke in, “Physically this Two is fine.”
“And a review of the logs shows no data corruption to the download,” Six added.
“Wonderful.” One looked around the table, “So this is just a new quirk to an already eccentric model. Send him down and get him back to work.”
--------------------------------------------------
It was all as he had left it. The flashlights on there shelf, the long dusty tunnel, the large workshop full of scenery, the Assistant Carpenter's office.
“Holy Hara!”
He spun quickly, coming face to face with Joseph Buquet, the chief stagehand.
For a long moment the only sound was the shattering of the bottle of ambrosia that slipped from Joseph's hand.
Without really thinking about it Erik threw his flashlight at Buquet face, then grabbed the sconce and let himself be swung along with the wall.
Fandom: Battlestar Galatica/The Phantom of the Opera
Rating: PG-13
Notes: When I say Phantom fandom I mean ALL of the fandom. A lot of it is based on the book, bits of it from the Webber's musical, and hints of Kay's "Phantom" and the Yaston/Kopit musical.
Warning: this chapter opens with a brief mention of suicide.
Prologue
Act 1, Scene 1
Act 1, Scene 2
Act 1, scene 3 - The Rebirth and Return of Leoben
--------------------------------------------------
[cut for possible triggers]
Death isn't the end, death is simply the beginning of a new cycle. With that thought fixed firmly in mind Erik Leoben pushed away the pain this body was in, pushed away the ache in his arms, pushed away the stretching of skin in his hands, pushed away the popping of blisters on his palm - pushed that away and grabbed the razor blade Brother Cavil had left after his visit.
With all the force of will he had left in his scared, broken, body Leoben ended this life and rushed towards a new one.
All this has happened before.
Waking with a gasp, Leoben found himself back at the Opera House, yet not the backstage labyrinth he was familiar with but the main auditorium. The rich reds and glowing golds warmed him as if they gave off heat. Sparkles of light, fracturing into rainbows that danced across his skin, flowed down from the crystal chandelier the hung high in the dome. His gaze drifted over the painted ceiling and gilded statues to the tiers of boxes and then - his breath caught. There in the Olympic Box stood five figures robed in white so bright they could be mistaken for stars.
The Final Five.
The figure in the middle gracefully lifted an arm and pointed towards the stage. Forcing himself to turn around Leoben was presented with a sight just as amazing.
An angel!
On stage was a young woman. Her pale blond hair was lose around her shoulders and she was wearing a simple shift; yet it was the same shining white so her whole body seemed to glow. She lifted her arms, as if begging the gods, and then began to sing.
The beauty of her voice, this place, the small glimpse of his creators, it was all too much. Leoben dropped to his knees as tears ran down his face.
The angel on stage turned to look at him, “Don't weep for me, Erik. I have my destiny.”
All this will happen again.
A wave swept over him and he began to struggle; fighting to reach the surface, to get back to her.
“It's alright brother, you're safe now.”
He sat up in the birthing tub, coughing and spitting out liquid.
“Your pain is over, Leoben.”
He looked at the Six who was stroking his hair away from his face, “My name is Erik.”
--------------------------------------------------
The small council room was filled with the chatter of voices and One was sick of it. “Yes!” he smacked the table with enough force to make it shake - and get the other models attention. “It's strange, this sudden name change but I've never been in favor of using names beyond the covers for our embeds. If he calls himself Leoben or if he calls himself Erik, I don't give a frak. The only thing I want to know is can he continue his mission or do we need to waste time training someone else?”
“We've always been sensitive to the cycle of time and the voices of God,” the Two representative spoke up, “Leoben claims that during his download he saw an angel. Maybe she is a warning from God.”
“But a warning for us or for the humans?” the Eight asked.
“It's not like there is an exact science to interpreting visions,” Two shrugged as he answered. “One person says a tree means one thing, a second person says it means something different. Sometimes a tree is just a tree.”
“Yes, but is this girl just a girl?” One failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Four broke in, “Physically this Two is fine.”
“And a review of the logs shows no data corruption to the download,” Six added.
“Wonderful.” One looked around the table, “So this is just a new quirk to an already eccentric model. Send him down and get him back to work.”
--------------------------------------------------
It was all as he had left it. The flashlights on there shelf, the long dusty tunnel, the large workshop full of scenery, the Assistant Carpenter's office.
“Holy Hara!”
He spun quickly, coming face to face with Joseph Buquet, the chief stagehand.
For a long moment the only sound was the shattering of the bottle of ambrosia that slipped from Joseph's hand.
Without really thinking about it Erik threw his flashlight at Buquet face, then grabbed the sconce and let himself be swung along with the wall.