Finale

A peaceful week passes safe
The Composer stands alone
She watches all the people move
In heights away from them

From nowhere falls the Phantom too
Watching with the girl
For many moments they speak no words
Only watch the living

The Phantom says she doesn't have
To stay and live this life
Once in too long i can take control
She may never escape

But she disagrees with a shaking head
All other paths were gone
For the people who couldn't they both would fight
As long as they knew how

It's said they shook, an alliance made
Two minds fight much better
Through music and a genius mind
Perhaps all would be safe

They're rarely seen and not for long
But they'll watch forever more
The shadowed boy and lonely girl
Now Phantom and Composer.

END OF BOOK ONE

Victory

The Flight and Phantom know full well
The style of the other
As smoke began to fade away
Neither was winning the other

A giant blade pierced through his leg
The newer robot leg
Scraping metal, dislodging parts
He kicks him in the face

Now so careful the Phantom moves
Almost crippled again
But upright and tall he held himself
The fight not over yet

In one crazed cackle the Flight roars
He's already won
All help was gone and he was strong
The PHantom couldn't beat him

But a horrid bang fills the air
Blood drips from the Flight
A horrified face stares at the wound
And falls straight to the ground

Behind him stood the Composer tall
A rifle in her hands
One masked face meets the other
A sign of sheer respect

As live police arrive to help
The crowds and fix it all
The city's heroes fade away
Their work for now complete.


Next Week: Finale

Evil vs. Good

With brand new ally the Composer runs
A cure they hoped they found
They ran to meet the dying cops
Time was running short

All the doors around HQ
Were shut and locked so tight
Bars blocked every single window
They could only watch the anguish

But Composer smashed the glass behind
The bars supposed to guard
An anxious tune moved from her mouth
As she slammed the gas can through

Blue-grey mist seethed from the can
Expanding in the room
For an awful moment it looked too weak
But then it won it out

Evil fog was swallowed in good
Men could breathe again
They all stood up and found her there
And gave her silent thanks

She met the gaze of the now weak friend
His eyes urged her away
Humming still she sprinted off
They'd do the rest alone.


Next Week: Victory

So Close

The Phantom moves 'cross rooftops now
As panic riles below
The death of cops was projected to all
They thought themselves unguarded

But from the dust the Flight rises
Projected from the middle
HIs voice made big for all to hear
Attention turns to him

All the city's protectors are gone
Destroyed by just one man
Now he'd come to take their place
They'd give him their respect

But in his speech the smoke rises
Pervading everywhere
The Phantom man tackles the Flight
A second fight ensues

The Flight rises with blades so thick
And dives to take his foe
All the blinded people hear
Are shouts and desperate screams

And through it all the clock still ticks
Bringing nearer death
The Flight has one more foe to kill
And then he'd meet his goal.


Next Week: Evil vs. Good

Hurry

Good luck trying to understand this one. I changed my mind about three times while writing it.

With one last blow the Flight slips free
Vanishing in the blaze
A split decision must be made
Which end are they fighting for

The death of friends and destruction of Flight
Or the life of them for his conquer
The Composer still holds the curing leaves
But both must make it work

In silence soon they must agree
Which path they'd race to take
Through threats of life and death they find
A lab to help them build

A merciful act from a Flight ally
Who knows what they seek
The Composer stays to save the cops
The Phantom'll face his foe

But as rushing feet continue on
They meet a muddled haze
Curing leaves slip into fire
And burn their one last hope

The determined woman won't lose hope
She searches all the room
There must be something left to help
She couldn't let them die.


Next Week: So Close

Infection

The head of them won't listen to
The warnings of a low cop
He says no evidence has he
The friend is threatened out

Surrounding cops are nervous now
Of maybe threats unheeded
The friend urges them to be prepared
But things do fall too late

A traitor cop traps all inside
And runs so fast away
A countdown done, gas air fills the room
Infiltrates their lungs

Gasping, dying, all the cops
Are filled with poison deep
On film for all the people to see
The Flight's official blow.


Next Week: Hurry

Too Late

The Phantom and Composer lunge
Trapping in the Flight
He ducks and kicks at parries and blows
Fire fills the room

Even when some guards arrived
The blaze did block their way
The fight alone had to be fought
No more intrusions here

In bursts of smoke more fire rose
Tossing, burning all
Weapons thrown and yells abound
Light blood did stain the ground

When at last the Flight was trapped beneath
The Phantom's steely grip
He cackled loud unnerving them
A beeping filled the room

"Too late." He hissed. "Infections start."
No cure had they with them
Long old friends would burn inside
No rescue to be made.


Next Week: Infection

Confrontatin

Not long had he walked when the lights flickered on
Revealing a large empty room
The Flight stood alone guarding his prey
The bound and gagged Composer

The Phantom glared and faced the man
Prepared for anything
The Flight just smiles and opens his arms
And welcomes him again

Next thing he knew a small explosion
Threw him to the side
He used his leg to catch himself
And barely hit the wall

Another goes off so near
Again, again, again
Until the man has learned to stand
Amidst the Flight's cruel cackles

A tranquilizer gun he holds
Filled no doubt with drugs
He point it straight at the Phantom's head
A test now to be made

But one masked face meets the other
The Composer's sliding free
In just a moment they could fight again
But the Phantom was uncertain

Even so he ducked and dove
Toppling with the Flight
A knife he pulls and frees the girl
They'll both face him this time.


Next Week: Too Late

Ignore

An address the voice had shouted out
One the Phantom needed now
He wonders at the foreign voice
But pushes it aside.

As he prepares the friend still warns
This could be a trap
The Phantom still could be a target
But he's not worried yet

He leaves his friend to warn the cops
And races for the address
The Flight it seemed was undaunted
For his voice did boom about

The same old words he told the people
Of definite death at noon
The PHantom feels the panic rise
But hurtles his way through it

More then once some mobs attacked
Of angry protest people
They said that he was failing them
But he escaped them barely scathed

Near the address more guards did wait
Time to test out his leg
He kicked and punched and threw sparking armor
Until his path was clear

Now into a pitch black building
The Phantom finds himself
Utter silence fills the air
The Phantom dares to walk


Next Week: Confrontation

Choices

The Phantom's work is closing up
Both the leg and plotting too
On two people would the Flight want revenge
The Phantom and the cops

The question still was who he'd strike
Few questions had been answered
But soon it wouldn't matter for
The Flight would fill them in

Again the radio crackled on
A cackling voice intrudes
The Flight now speaks to the Phantom only
No others would overhear

He asks if he has seen the news
All the angry people
The massive deaths has reached their ears
They blame it on the Phantom

He offers him a second chance
If a very slim one
the Phantom can now step aside
End his days dishonor

But if that's not accepted a second choice
the Flight is offering
Dare to try to save his cops
For at noon they all would die

But then a shout roars on the mic
The Flight's growls now for silence
The Phantom fixes his fresh leg on
And readies for a mission.


Next Week: Ignore

Kidnap

Through a desecrated camp she slithered through
The home that she'd escaped
She searched around for the yellow leaf
That surrounded the Devil's Demon

In frustration she urged her mind to think
Remember all she could
Once the Flight's own garden had been . . .
Blast it! Over there!

She spots the treasure and leaps for it
Collecting all she could
A lighter chuckle breaks the quiet
Just behind her back

She quickly stands holding the leaves
And stuffs them in a pocket
The Flight watches, waiting too
A hoard of men with him

Again the asks for his pupil's return
But her choice has been made
He sneers and speaks again of lies
The lies that taint her past

He cackles of her mother the whore
And a barely honorable father
She'd been destroyed for selling herself
To the spawn of worthless men

The woman doesn't stir for the Flight doesn't know
She already knows this tale
Enraged by her lacking use
The Flight's men then descend.


Next Week: Choices

Building and Brainstorming

The Phantom welds and bends and builds
Balanced on one limb
A robot leg he'll build himself
While research the fowl poison

When at last his friend finally called
He'd already found
The Devil's Demon poison plant
The friend still filled him in

He said the girl was going to
Fetch a plant to cure
The Phantom cursed that she went alone
And couldn't help her quest

Until then though the friend and he
Would find their enemies target
Where would he hit, how and when?
Unravel all his plan

In heated talk they worked and spoke
The Phantom now most anxious
He welds and bends and builds his leg
As the Composer makes her way.


Next Week: Kidnap

A Desperate Plan

She leans forward now an idea springing
A hopeless, desperate plot
If she could find a plant to cure
Could someone, anyone make it

Of course, the Phantom was more than a hero
But where could it be found?
Somewhere she hoped was long deserted
But hopeful nonetheless

She leaves then quick without a word
A plan then to fulfill
Her heart was racing her palms were sweaty
But run alone she did.


Next Week: Building and Brainstorming

Collaboration

The friend's in late at his office now
On call with trusted doctor
The Phantom's refusing a fake leg to be sent
He'd make one for himself

He hangs up soon and rubs his eyes
He still had work to do
His eyes turn back to his black screen
And see a reflection there

He whirls about to find her there
The one who'd helped his friend
Garbed in white like a fallen angel
She stood so straight and tall

She asked of him what killed the gypsies
He tells her of the poison
He pulled up an email to show her a picture
Of the suspected flowers

She stops and points to one red one
She dubs it Devil's Demon
A special plant bred by her clan
The Flight had liked it much

Long before she'd run away
He'd be working late
With water mixtures he tampered with
But little else she'd seen

Had he found a deadly poison
And infected all the clan?
How much further did he intend to go?
And just how quickly could he?


Next Week: A Desperate Plan

Hurt

She sits and stares around the room
No noise then to be made
No debtor sitting at the breakfast table
Or urging her to train

Alone she was in a house not hers
She felt a gypsy again
But there she could no more return
That home was now buried

She stared at her costume the debtor made
It now was stained in death
Yet it now held the only life
She had left to her

Over and over she heard the Flights words
Of lies and summons back
She saw his grinning face and the
Falling body of debtor

She stood up straight and grabbed the clothes
She'd made this choice already
She'd push and shove with all her might
Until her life was spent.


Next Week: Collaboration

Poison

The news again reminds them both
Of what was now past fights
The woman sits so still and listens
The Phantom just the same

His leg now sinks and swells more
The venom's spreading thin
His homemade cure holds little back
The poison still remains

The friend observes and knows it too
The damage has been done
No time to fined a cure to heal
Action must be made

A trusted doctor's summoned quick
To do the work at home
The leg must go, no other choice
Before it killed him too

For through autopsies done on gypsies dead
They'd found their blood stream tainted
It matched the Phantom's fowled up leg
But spread all through the corpses

Somehow they'd all been filled
With poison to the brim
The Phantom's may be working slower
But work it still was doing.


Next Week: Hurt

Fallen

The debtor's body falls to the ground
The woman's insides freezes
Phantom hisses and jumps to fight
But tumbles by the corpse

A remote type thing the Flight held up
The gypsies all were screaming
The Phantom grabs his enemies leg
And yanks him down with him

Composer joins a bloody fight
Messed and muddled up
Before too long the Flight escaped
Amidst the gypsy bodies

The woman hefts the Phantom up
And heaves him fast away
He calls for cops on hidden phone
Sirens bleed the air

A lone friend meets them soon
To help the moaning man
In silence as she did the best
The woman vanished then

Alone again in a once past home
She pulls away her cloth
Her face now wet she curls to ground
And trembles ever still.


Next Week: Poison

Decision Made

A crowd of men appeared to fight
The debtor ready too
Knives he brandished and sliced about
Backing them away

Phantom and Composer too
Leapt to free the prisoners
The woman fights to side of friend
He grins, critiques her work

Midst music and crowds a howl was made
All eyes turned to Flight
He held the debtor's blade to neck
Another prisoner

He snaps he wants an answer now
Or friend's the first to go
The Phantom looks for a trick to play
He fingers his arm armor

The woman meets the eyes of friends
Frightened gypsy friends
They gaze unseeing in her face
She turns to face the Flight

The Flight holds up five fingers
And starts counting down
The debtor meets her eyes again
And softly shakes his head

The Phantom throws a sparking flash
The countdown is complete
The woman leaps and blocks the flash
The Flight slices through.


Next Week: Fallen

Inward Battles

Silence rains upon their heads
Acid silence rain
A war is raging  in their minds
In moments like eternity

What right had the Phantom to choose his fate?
Yet he was not a he
The boy had said the spoils were she
A woman fought like him

So couldn't she choose for herself
Why should he handle her
The Flight must only see rejection
What matter could she be?

The same old thoughts the woman thought
She knew the choice was hers
Face her terrors, let them go free
It made the horrors simple

Past Flight lessons haunt her mind
Crowding with friend faces
But before they choose an intruder appears
A debt now to repay.


Next Week: Decision Made

The Flight's Speech

"Three years ago you Phantom pest
Fell me to my Hell
All my work you trampled through
Leaving me with nothing

"I had a plan, a great one then
One to snatch my stature
Then you arise and rip me up
We'll see whose falling now

"And you who they call the Composer
I know who you are
A little cloth can't hide the truth
I've heard your music too

"So much you could've risen to
Right here at my side
But instead you chose to dishonor my teachings
You the spawn of wretch

"You think you know your hidden past
What lies they've given you
But the truth I won't give you tonight
I'm much too kind for that

"A choice I'm giving both of you
Phantom's already heard
Return me my spoils, they all go free
Otherwise, can't you guess?"


Next Week: Inward Battles

Welcome

In alley bare the Phantom comes
A lone man waits for him
Moments pass and the Composer appears
They eye each other carefully

Two strangers stand together now
The man will guide them too
They stand so far apart this time
As though they're still alone

In the dankest rotten alleyway
A crowd awaits the two
The Flight at head and prisoners gagged
He holds one by the hair

The Phantom sees him as the boy
Who'd spoken to the cops
The Composer sees a forgotten friend
But he can't see her now

The Flight strides forward with maliciousness
Etching all his features
He opens up his arms to speak
And welcome them all there

"For once we're all gathered together
The two who've halted me
I'm glad you're here for now you'll see
Just how high I'll rise."


Next Week: The Flight's Speech

The Composer Starts

Watching news again of the
Flight's investigation
The woman listens to every word
But sees there's little progress

The debtor' interrupts suddenly
And pulls her to a mirror
Confused she waits and soon he brings
Her disguise ready now

In cloth that flows so willowy
Halfway pants and dress
She could whip or smother and fade away
"White just like a saint."

Last of all a hoods drawn up
With cloth across her face
Hidden completely beneath it all
She's just about complete

But suddenly the TV changes
The Flight's face then appears
Behind him bound and gagged appeared
Many gypsy prisoners

He called them then to find him quick
The prisoners could not wait
He wants to see his two great foes
And so he would so soon.


Next Week: Welcome

The Second Blow

When the Phantom awakes he's not in pain
The cure will work for now
And while it does he has work to do
The new man may know more

But just as he affixed the mask
The fools phone rang so loud
He answer's quick to a distressed friend
The Flight's next move is made

Suddenly the radio's on
A long since hated voice
Across the wave the Flight summons
The Phantom and Composer

Muffled voices in the back
Cry the Flight's cruel plan
Time is running very short
As the man reminds

Part two is just beginning, now
Its time for a rebuttal
"Come quick young heros
we're waiting patiently."

Away the Phantom runs so quick
Soaring 'cross the car tops
For now his leg is holding out
Just pray for long enough.


Next Week: The Composer Starts

A Cure For Now

The Phantom sticks the needle through
A bit of blood to take
His mind is clear enough to test
And see what taints his leg

The bullet he'd removed he'd found
And scanned it as he worked
He checked the blood through microscope
And found it not the same

Tainted like with poison deep
It festered beneath the skin
the bullet was soaked in toxin rich
Some foreign, evil plant

Further search while fighting pain
He works straight through the night
Until at last a help he builds
Or something of the sort

He injects himself and waits so calm
He waits for anything
Of course he vomits in a bin
And quickly passes out.


Next Week: The Second Blow

Panic Attack

In the solace of the empty streets
The woman storms about
Already blood stain her face's cloth
But she's not finished yet

Another gang she comes across
And beast them to the earth
In dust she moves away midst moans
Another fight to find

She turnes a corner running on
Something snatches her
In solitude the debtor tears
The cloth from her face

He finds it battered, bruised, and bloody
Her breathing's hard and shallow
She hums now with all she had left
To chase away her demons

The debtor wipes away her blood
Mingling with the tears
He gives her shoulder a fatherly squeeze
She's not alone quite yet

She trembles as he guides her home
But not a word is spoken
Her tears recede, her humming fades
At least they're gone for now.


Next Week: A Cure For Now

A New Ally?

Again the Phantom wakes so hot
His leg now swollen slight
He just sits up to find the friend
Reading news in silence

Before he has the chance to ask
The friend just says, "A day."
He throws away the newspaper
He's all business now

Just last night more men were caught
By a stranger new
The face was masked and hidden well
Much like the Phantom

Strange enough the person sang
As he did attack
The Phantom starts, he'd heard such tales
Of a slumming trouble maker

He's rising, curious to see
But how would his tale end
A brand new ally couldn't take
The Flight's experience

Whoever he was he'd need to quit
Before he got too deep
He knew from experience he could get trapped
Never to escape.


Next Week: Panic Attack

The Flight Knows

A perfumed room like gypsy home
She looked to find a mark
Of who would possibly join the Flight
There were none she recognized

But near the window scratched on wall
Was a note meant just for her
A sign of domination and a threat
He's drawing closer

When the cops arrive she vanishes
They'll take what she needs not
She hurries home to tell the debtor
Her head a mess of thoughts

He tries to keep her calm and yet
She's panicking for now
How'd he know she'd be there then?
And how'd he get her friends?


Next Week: A New Ally?

The Gypsy Men

Time to test her fresh skills now

And hope it all works out

Just for now she's draped in cloth

Prepare her for her costume

Around the slums she slithered through

Waiting for teh sounds

When at last they came she followed quiet

But had to hide in shadows

Some men in shadowed rooms stood

Echoing their noise

But badly hidden a cop did see

She felt a fight draw near

As guns were drawn she leapt before them

Humming as she moved

She held her arms in warning but

They moved in anyway

She banged their skulls on knee and stone

They fell hard to the ground

She observed them quick and her stomach turned

They were gypsy men

She turned them to the cop and said

"Flights. Ask them when they came."

Away she moved to check the hideout

And search for more Flight men.


Next Week: The Flight Knows

Working So Well

Far away in blacker domain
The Flight observes it all
He smiles as the Phantom stumbles on
The poison worked so well

A cautious voice intrudes his thoughts
A henchman yet confused
He humbly states they've caught the last
The prison room is full

Excellent, things went so well
Much smoother then before
He looks to yet another screen
A gypsy woman roams

Interesting how things turned out
Not quite how he expected
When she'd run away he'd never guessed
She'd try to be a hero

But best she was for it worked so well
His plan moves smoothly on
He rises to go check and see
The prisoners are comfortable.


Next Week: The Gypsy Men

Foreboding Chat

He slithers away where none can see
Thy gypsy man is guarded well
But with one glare from the masked man's face
They step aside for him

The Phantom strides into the cell
Trying not to limp
They gypsy man's eyes go wide
At the sight of him

The Phantom stands and stared him down
What more does he know
He shakes his head but the Phantom shouts
He won't be trifled with

The men outside plan to use him
For foolish misplanned ventures
He can't dissuade them but he works alone
He can stop it sooner

The man stutters he knows no plan
Only of the spoils
His head bowed low he finally said
She was a friend of his

Intrigued the Phantom asks for more
Of this gypsy girl
The man speaks of her grand escape
And the use she was before

So this woman was the Flight's lost ally
What could she now know?
He starts away but the man's not done
He's trembling ever still

He warns him not to underestimate
The Phantom never does
But the man insists his leg's just the start
The Flight's hand reaches far

Only then did the Phantom feel
The blood drip down his leg
His mind growing faint, he hurries away
A far out hand indeed.


Next Week: Working So Well

A Foolish Plan

The Phantom wakes in aching pain
His leg it seems in flame
he found it shrunk as though sucked dry
He moaned but moved besides

A message he found upon the table
From the good old friend
A meeting amongst the fighting men
While the Phantom did rest

In throbbing pain he dresses up
To join them anyway
The friend's unsure, the rest relieved
Discussions carry on

The man they've caught will speak no more
They'll keep him under guard
But what he speaks could be a lie
No reason have they to trust

But what if jtye could return the man
A mole for them to be
The Phantom scoffs, the Flight's no fool
He'd never fall for that

Yet now the men are taken by
The notion of a spy
If they could twist it to the Flight's own game
They could maybe win

The Phantom's words are drowned in words
And he hasn't strength to fight
He vanishes away into the dark
His own plan must be made.


Next Week: Foreboding Chat

Patterns of the Past

Late that night she roamed the streets
With troubled heart and mind
Sounds so like owls and planes
She hums a hollow tune

Just before the Flight had come
To take the gypsy camp
They'd heard such sounds all around
Then he'd come to them

But to echo the sounds across the slums
One had to be assisted
One thing for sure, the Flight had friends
What else did they do to serve?

But what bothered her most was the possible pattern
Between the past and now
These sounds he made could just be a mark
A sign that it was him

Yet something itched behind her thoughts
An itch she couldn't scratch
She wandered home in the heavy dark
Something was very wrong.


Next Week: A Foolish Plan

The Composer's Investigation

Tired of endless sewing and picking
The woman leaves for some air
Once out of sight the debtor's eyes
She ran towards the alleys

The Flight wanted something
Very very badly
She'd find something out no standing still
She'd somehow find a way

In a bar room she walked so firm
Silence falls around her
All eyes watch her warily
As she takes a seat alone

Slowly chatter rises again
A wide berth's given her
Soon a young one approaches her
Words begin to share

Soon a crowd is gathered close
As she tells old gypsy tales
In comfort they begin to speak
Of their own strange happenings

Odd sounds that echo in the night
Sounds like owls or planes
The woman recognizes the mark
The Flight is not alone.


Next Week: Patterns of the Past

Burn Hole

Dreams of past fights haunting him
Day and night it seems
Old Flight methods rage in his mind
Preparing for who knows what

A god friend wakes him from a nightmare of
The Flight's teasing face
He says for now the streets are safe
Men posted all around

Many precautions have been taken this time
Against the Flight's next move
But the friend still wonders as the Phantom does
What are they warding against?

Was it simply revenge the Flight did seek
And his "spoils" too
That didn't ring true to either of them
Their must be something more

Memories shared and theories passed
Barely inching closer
Just then the wound in the Phantom's leg
Begins to smart and burn

It burns a hole right through his shin
No blood or mess is made
The Phantom finds his world dimming
And thusly passes out.


Next Week: The Composer's Investigation

Held Back

The woman hears the people cry
And wrestlings unjust
But the debtor holds her arm so firm
And says, "No fight today."

People scurry about with signs
Proclaiming the Flight's new reign
Old fears are coming fresh to light
Fears she'd seen before

But she knew this was just the start
As must the Phantom too
For reasons that she couldn't see
The Flight had more in store

The debtor though just strolled away
Through the little market
Searching through fabrics and testing much
Ignoring all the crowds

She was relieved when it was time to leave
A fabric chosen well
Her arm felt bruised from the debtor's grasp
But she was not released

At home he let her go and held
The fabric to her face
Her time to fight was drawing near
Her mask first to be made.


Next Week: Burn Hole

Menace in the Slums

The fool works at his daily duties
Sweeping, cleaning things
But in the lowest places he works
Ears are at the ready

A drunken slob comes stumbling in
Making new messes for him
He falls into a chair and calls
For more drunkenness

The barman joins him and in loud tones
They make good sport of the fool
But soon they're off in their own little world
The fool sweeps near to listen

From the slums they'd both come from
And each had tales to tell
Of a strange dark figure, caked in mud
Tormenting all who passes

No one knows if it's creature or man
But a right good mess it's made
The streets, they said, used to be safe to walk
Now you'll never know

The fool left them quite irked at it all
No matter what this creature was
It couldn't have aught to do with his foe
This menace of the drunks.


Next Week: Held Back

Music of Comfort

Extra training begins so quick
For the threats are now abounding
The debtor knows tricks of silence and sight
He'll teach them to his friend

With every session the debtor notes
The woman always hums
A tune to match whatever she does
He listens all the while

At one point yes, the debtor asks
What her music meant
She smirks and says it soothes her soul
Whenever danger's near

She learned it from a gypsy friend
When she was but a child
He'd sing to her to help her sleep
Before he'd passed away

Since then she'd kept the habit up
A fond old memory
The debtor greatly encourages it
In all their training sessions.


Next Week: Menace in the Slums

The Composer's Disguise

The woman sits before the TV
A frown across her brow
All kinds of news and footage
From just the day before

She starts and leans when images come
Of the Phantom racing quick
He wore a blackened mask so fine
And some odd made armor

They said he helped in rescues made
Of many buried deep
But in the clips he'd seemed to lean
And favor just one leg

She started when the debtor came
Notebook in his hand
dHe glared at the TB screen
And handed her the pad

A person was so carefully drawn
One set in disguise
She wore a warrior's old fashioned gown
The hood around her face

It was her costume for her exploits
The debtor had designed
He said if they were to make her known
She must be made to be remembered

"Besides, he notes, the day must come
The Phantom will know of you
Fight like him and then perhaps
He'll know you fight together."


Next Week: Music of Comfort

Losing

The Phantom acts immediately
Disguise thrown in place
The explosions had to go off by remote
So only one place could he be

Leaping 'cross speeding cars
He races for the place
Midst cries and moans and devastation
He makes it halfway there

The Flight leaps out and tackles the man
Rolling him to seclusion
A gun shot wound goes to his leg
Before he can react

The PHantom rises prepared to fight
The Flight does just the same
A battle quick and pain riddled
Neither won this time

A blade in his shoulder the Flight grins again
"You're losing." he says quietly
Backup arrives but he's gone away
Leaving his foe in the dust.


Next Week: The Composer's Disguise

First Blow

The Flight is thorough, always was
He plans so far ahead
That the Phantom'd check his old hideouts
He had long since known

The fool's phone rings, he answers quick
The Flight's voice intercedes
He whispers two most deadly words
"Watch out." The line goes dead

Moments pass and across the city
Explosions thunder fast
Fire, smoke, everything
Shatters in the air

Hundreds burned, countless killed
In less then fifteen seconds
In distant shadows the Flight just smiles
And fades into the dark

The entire city shakes and shudders
At the Flight's first blow
No hiding now, it's all begun
All will know it now.


Next Week: Losing

Flashback

A younger man holds high a mask
Freshly made for him
Sculpted to fit his features perfect
But to hide them just as well

A friend stands by and looks as well
Uncertain what to say
He asks again if he is sure
He's doing what he should

The holder of the mask looks on
Silent for awhile
Soon he moves and gestures at
The city outside the window

"For those who can, we must always,"
He quotes his long passed father
"Stand by the side of those without."
That's why he made his mask

Three years past the Phantom awakes
Shivering in the heat
He'd made that choice so long ago
So very long ago.


Next Week: First Blow

New Discovery

Not long were they home then a panic arose
Echoed just down the block
Still shrouded in muck the woman leapt out
To punish the druggies out there

She returned in a rage with blood in the mud
Outnumbered five to one
She'd barely got to make her point
When they beat her just the same

The debtor laughed and helped her wash
Teasing her forthwith
But she shouldn't feel bad, why even the Phantom
Must've struggled at first

The woman doesn't understand at all
And asks him to explain
Who was this Phantom and what did he
Have to do with her?

The debtor smiled and said that he's
The Savior of the city
He rose from dust three years before
Much like she's doing now

Intrigued the woman listens to
The tales of this strange Phantom
But the debtor slows and softly speaks
Of the conquer of the Flight

So the Phantom was the one who had
Driven him to them
The woman was unsure how to feel
Towards this strange Phantom.


Next Week: Flashback

The Beginnings

Coated once again in muck

She ducks behind a bin

Musical warning moves from her mouth

Tempting any thugs

In silence like a graveyard

She walked all through the town

Waiting for shadows to follow her

But none would come this time

Petty mongrels traipsed around

And sneered at sight of her

But none came near for long a time

Till someone grabbed her arm

The debtor pulled her form all eyes

And looked her up and down

He notes she cannot roam about

In nothing but this grime

Not only that, he was but a man

Yet he caught her well

Yes she was brave and mighty skilled

But there was room to learn

He brought her home to clean herself 

For they had work to do

A hero they wanted her to be

And so they'd make her be.


Next Week: New Discovery

The Truth of the Spoils

A dead man's list was written clear
In order's from the Flight
The Phantom checked them over twice
To search for some connection

Spread across the city they were
Strong and able men
Men with families to care for still
Their deaths would raise a panic

No sooner was this discovery made
Then another summons was sent
The Flight's own man was speaking up
A must peculiar tale

To the police's side the masked man flies
The suspect's in the question room
He speaks of his recruitment
It wasn't of his choice

His family was in the gypsy camp
The Flight had overcome
His spoils was the one who had escaped
Who could destroy his will.


Next Week: The Beginnings

Old Hideout

In the darkness the Phantom waits
Outside a sewer pot
A sound detector he held still above it
Listn'ing so carefully

Muffled voices speak carelessly
Of all successes past
And of those to come so soon they say
The Phantom grits his teeth

One cries he needs a smoke
And some fresher air
The Phantom hears him climb the ladder
And open up the hideout

Invisible, the Phantom waits
Until the passage is closed
Then he attacks and grabs the man
It's time to get some answers

With angry shakes and violent voice
He scares the man to speak
He cries the Flight recruited them
To make a mess of things

He didn't know what the Flight's plan was
Or what his spoils were
He only knew his mission was
To kill a special way

The Phantom threw the man aside
No use was he to him
He barged in the hideout and beat all the men
To have a look around

A TV here, a beer can there
A den of swine it was
But ripe with what he needed, yes
Ripe with evidence

Hidden away in a place so tight
Were orders from the man
The Phantom took them for his own
The cops could have the rest.


Next Week: The Truth of the Spoils

The First Death

An unknowing stranger strolls through the streets
Feasting on deadly food
He stops in an alley to take a call
The very last call he'd take

A whisper and a breeze startle him now
He looks but finds no one there
He's about to hang up, getting nervous
But was much too slow this time

Out of no where came a speeding figure
Knife held high in his hand
It pierces the stranger clean through the heart
Leaving a corpse and a note

A worried friend calls the police
The note is found and quick concealed
As soon as he can, he delivers to the phantom
For to him it was addressed

"Dear old friend, have you missed my work?
I'll leave you much to do
This is the first of many quick deaths
Unless you return me my spoils."

The Phantom's confused as are the police
The Flight has been gone for so long
In all that time they could never once
Take anything from him.


Next Week: Old Hideout

Stories Shared

The woman woke in bedsheets warm
Clean and rested well
She sat up fast to prepare to leave
But found she wouldn't yet

The debtor sat at a modest table
Eating a luscious breakfast
He welcomed her to join him too
She had to ask him why

He laughs and says he owes her much
As he owes so many
He hopes through service of this saint
He'll even out the score.

Through his confession he asks one of her
What made her want to help
She bowed her head for a solemn tale
At least it was to her

Her life was spent at a gypsy camp
Travl'ling through the slums
But soon a man took hold of them
He called himself the Flight

She'd seen so much at his cruel hands
She'd escaped to find things new
But found this place was just as scarred
As what she'd left behind

She wanted to know if it all could end
So she took her first step
The debtor smiled and shook her hand
She wouldn't do it alone.


Next Week: The First Death

The Flight

The Phantom's lair beneath the earth
A frigid hideaway
A fool enters, the shadow leaves
Invisible again

The threat was simple, no big deal
But it was signed "The Phantom"
A call and summons to the hidden man
One he'd had before.

The masked man arrives forthwith
A friend has met him there
An odd occurrence from a vanished foe
Is now made known to him

He called himself the Flight, he did
For quick and lithe he was
But the Phantom won him long ago
Now he's come again

With vengeance hot and bubbling
He'll return so soon
Foretold blood on the Phantom's hands
The fire is drawing closer.


Next Week: Stories Shared

The Villain's Threat

A phantom can hide in so many places
Dark, light, crowded, alone
But in social worlds, he is but a fool
He's worked very hard to make it so

The ball is a grand one, lit and full up
Smiles are given, laughter exchanged
The fool joins all gladly
Surrounded by dripping liars

A hand grips his shoulder, words in the ear
The fool must bow out, get home fast
His vacation had ended, cut off
A new threat is ready to bloom

The villain asks nicely for deals to be struck
Her arsenal's prepared, he stands alone
But dare not forget him, he'll demonstrate
Just what he's capable of

The next day at noon for all to see
A show would be given, one price
One he would set at great height or depth
Should he be ignored.

The sun is setting, the moon will rise
But what or who rises with it?
The phantom has a war to fight
And pray it doesn't grow.


Next Week: The Flight

The Debtor

Cold and silent rain falls down
Painting dark the streets
Scuffles echo in the twilight
Fights for food and life

Hunched woman in flesh of earth
Waits silent in shadows
No face to be seen amidst the filth
No face ever seen

A meeting's met so near the girl
A meeting of debts to pay
A fierce heart master raises the stakes
The debtor's trapped within

The woman in scum rises from shade
All eyes whip to her
A tune of danger spills from her lips
Their fight begins and ends

Cowards run or fall in fear
The music fades away
The debtor's gratitude is great
He offers her a place

Intrigued, tired and covered in filth
She'll agree for now
The debtor's kind and honest in all
He'll repay his debt.



Next Week: The Villain's Threat

A Vow

I'm going to start updating more so this doesn't take forever. Maybe a couple a week. :)

To every half there is a whole
To every dark there is a light
To every home there is a Hell
Nothing's different here

Escape she thought for sure she'd find
But here the streets are all the same
A starved one here, a cold one there
But somehow, much less hope.

Once she thought for certain
Hell had just one home
But now she found it spread and festered
With no natural bounds.

Even here, such greedy hands
Sought to take what little she had
But just as she did with the scum at home
She left them scared and running

Even here, the small did fall
While large did take their spoils
Impoverished, sickness, selfishness
Infected all the air

She wondered briefly as she stole some bread
If this was all there was
Surely all could rise or fall
Given the proper push

In rags no better then those around
She rose and made a vow
She's push and shove with all her might
Until her life was spent.


Next Week: The Debtor

Wesley James

The mother's hand is held so tight
The father's just the same
A young boy in an unknown place
Holds tight to his protection

Forms abound in dirt and stench
Small and frightened forms
Horrors to the young boy's eyes
But parents are not swayed.

Together they step, the center of all
Eyes watch them so warily
The boy trembles, but parents stand tall
Arms opened to the world

They pass their hearts and care around
Until the air changes
Words of thanks rain on their heads
But not all are so grateful

The father shows his son it all
And just begins to whisper,
"For those who can, we should always--"
He'd never speak again

A wretched bang intrudes the air
Another quickly follows
Who once was shielded is now exposed
As blood runs down their faces.

The mother's hand is held so tight
The father's just the same
A young boy in a shadowed place
Alone and so confused.


Next Week: A Vow

Maggie Joe's Birth

Wailing trees in the hidden past
Panic in the wind
Trampling cross the shingled roofs
Infiltrates the rooms


Around a huddled form it goes
Closer, closer, closer
Rocking back and forth with her
Until she moves no more


The wailing echoes closely now 
From the lips of her
Another stirs within the dust
Barely inching closer


The stone and bars capture the howls
And hide them in their depths
Silence meets the waiting ears
No rescue to be made


Hours passed like time hurled back 
The panic seeps inside
With new life's scream and the fading wench
It seizes full control


A touch across the newborn's brow
The mother fades quick
It's said she whispered, "Maggie Jo."
Before her breath was lost


Wailing trees in the hidden past
Panic in the wind
Those who come here all alone
Will always be as such.






Next Week: Wesley James

The Phantom and the Composer First Draft

For a couple weeks now I've been writing a story but in a way I've never done before. The goal here was to get through the first draft of a project as soon as possible so the idea didn't prematurely die in my head. So I figured I write poems fast, what if I were to write all of it in poems? That's essentially how this started. Plus I had this idea that wouldn't leave me alone, but I didn't want to start writing it before it was ready. Somehow, writing in poems isn't killing it yet, and I've gotten farther in this story then I think I have any other. It's also an easier way to get to know my characters too, which is what I care about most. :)

I want to start posting the poems here now. I'll probably do one a week. Seeing as it's summer, I may actually remember. If you do read these, just remember that the details are left up to your imagination. I've been sending these all to Camilla via text since poem one, and she got pretty confused during the beginning. But, to help out with this, I'm giving you a character list. I never actually call any of them by name. I more of use titles and that can get confusing, so here you are:

The Phantom/the Fool - Hero of the city. His alter ego is essentially a fool. Real name Wesley James.

The Woman/the Composer - Gypsy renegade and rising hero. Real name Maggie Jo although few know that. Gypsy friends know her as Yenna.

The Debtor - Friend and ally to the Composer.

The Friend - A policeman and only person who knows the real identity of the Phantom

The Flight - Bad guy with unknown intent


Also, I'm posting a video of a trailer I made for the story to kind of give you an idea of what it's about. Note that this is a story I see as a trilogy and this trailer essentially spans the entire three books. If anyone cares, I got the idea while watching The Dark Knight so there are some batman pictures in here. And some from X-Men and Legend of the Seeker. The music is from The Dark Knight Rises trailer. Thanks!

(This does have an intro for a DVD which you are so welcome to skip! It ends at 2:40)

I should probably also mention I write free verse. In case anyone's wondering . . . .

"This is the story of my death - both of them."

This is another first liner, one I came up with. It's easily not the best of the one's I've done, but it's nice to have those every now and then to keep you humble. :)

This is the story of my death – both of them. So how am I writing this now? Simple, I know I’m going to die, no physician can save me. I lie now in my deathbed, my last act being to write this story. Maybe that way, the punishment will be less severe for the survivors.

Know this, that it was my own acts that led me here. I hold no malice for those who have survived. I deserve the blame for all that has happened, none of which was what we wanted. We thought we'd make a difference, we thought we were doing good. The thought never crossed our minds that we were the villains of this tale.

"I was healed from the blindness so I could feel the pain."

Second first liner I did. Korina came up with this one.

I was healed from the blindness so I could feel the pain. They wanted me to see what I’d done. Then they left me here to stay, and it’s here that I will remain.

I wander these desecrated halls, seeing for the first time what once was my home. There were no bodies among the remains. No doubt they’d all run. At least I’d kept my dignity in that. Then again, they probably planned it that way. It wasn’t hard to lie to a blind man. They told me I was eliminating the remains of the Holder’s Realm. But now, seeing the destruction around me . . . I couldn’t help but wonder how many of my people I had been tricked into destroying. How many friends had I slaughtered with my strengths.

I ran my fingers across what was left of the stone wall. It was a texture I recognized. This was our base camp, specifically the hall leading to Commander Torag’s chambers. With the base now gone, there would be no evidence against them. A once blind man left to rot was no threat to them. They were free.

It had been two days since I regained my sight. I didn’t bother to look for food. My method never left sustenance. At least this way, I knew death was coming. With every move I made, I could feel my body weaken. So I kept moving. Death at least would save me from the pain I’d been left in.

I entered the roofless chamber of my ex-Commander. Since I’d regained my sight, this had been the best view. Through the window could be seen the entirety of the base city . . . the remains at least. It was now nothing but a horrid pile of rubble, stone and dust. The dust itself had been lingering in the air for the past two days.

I wondered what it had looked like before. I knew its feel, its sound, its smell, but never had I known its sight. I’d been told it was beautiful. Perhaps it was. I’d never know. The last and only sight I’d ever see would be that of the demolished, filthy land. But I deserved no less.

Suddenly, I heard something. It was beyond the normal sound of the breeze and my breathing. It was a new sound. One I had never heard before. It reminded me . . . of people.

I turned, but didn’t glance around. I wasn’t used to the advantage of sight yet. Instead, I held utterly still and listened hard.

It came again; like a hiccup.

I moved forward, feeling for my path as I was used to. It was strange still, to be able to see the path ahead, the rubble move aside when I pushed them. But, when I found the source of the noise . . . it was perhaps the strangest and most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

It was a baby; a human baby, no doubt. It was wrapped in a soft, purple cloth that it now kicked aside. When it saw me, it stared at me; it’s big baby eyes curious. I reached out a hand and traced a finger across the tiny face. The baby too reached up and wrapped its tiny fingers around mine.

I didn’t know how it had gotten there or how it had survived my attack, but somehow, in that moment, I didn’t care. Here lay the first life I had ever seen. It was marvelous and beautiful. But it scared me. Why would this infant have been left to die? Judging from what my colleagues had deceived me into doing, I had no doubt that they would steep so low. But why?

Suddenly, the baby started wailing. A weak smile flitted across my face. The sound of life, I knew that sound.

I reached out ever so carefully and lifted the baby from its cradle of rubble. Still it cried and wailed; I shushed her gently – for she was definitely a girl. Something about my sense of touch had always been able to tell me that. She snuggled up against my chest.

I left the room behind, never to return. If one life had been spared from my devastation, then perhaps some food had as well. After all, I couldn’t just let her die. I’d done that enough. Perhaps now, I had a chance to redeem some wrongs. I carried the child away from what once was my home to find her somewhere safe.

"Twigs snap easily in people's hands. However, in mine, bones snap just as easy."

At Girls Camp last year, Skylie, Korina and I were bored. I think we were waiting for dinner or something, I don't remember. Needless to say, Skylie and I both had notebooks. So, with mine, we began to pass it around between the three of us and started a three way story. While one person was writing, the other two would use Skylie's notebook, passing it back and forth, making up first liners for books. It was super fun. A while ago, Skylie let me borrow the First Liners page and I put them all on my computer. I like to go through them sometimes and write scenes, short stories, or book openers with the first lines as a sort of writing excersise. This one was the first I did. I did it during CTE when we were doing . . . nothing.

This is "Twigs snap easily in people's hands. However, in mine, bones snap just as easy." The first line was written by Skylie:

Twigs snap easily in people’s hands. However, in mine, bones seem just as easy.

I circled the long wooden table, tracing my fingers along the edge. My victim watched me with barely contained fear. He had wounds across his chest, abdomen and face still dripping with blood from my last visit. I didn’t fight the smile that spread across my lips.

“How’s your day been, Sauro?” I asked, stopping at the head of the table.

He didn’t answer, but I could hear his shaking breath.

“Well, mine’s been great,” I went on. “I woke up this morning, had breakfast, killed my last two patients, and developed a new method of bone breaking. It’s been a good day.” I leaned over him. “How would you like to make my day even better?”

“I’ve made my promise to my Master. I’ll say nothing.”

“Oh, I know you won’t.” I chuckled. “That’s why I’m here. I deal with the one’s who will never talk because I don’t need them to talk to get my information. After all, there are four other senses.” I traced my cold, pointed fingers across his forehead. He flinched and turned away. “But, seeing as I’m feeling particularly nice today, I’ll give you one more chance. Where is your precious prince hiding?”

“What does it matter to you?” He snapped. I smiled.

“Oh he has certain . . . qualities we require.”

With one last withering glare, he looked away. “I’ll die first.”

My grin widened. “Excellent.” I whispered. My day was about to get even better.

I straightened up, but didn’t more from my spot. I wanted him to see my face when I broke him to pieces. My smooth hands reached out and gripped his arm between my fingers. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the break.

I snapped it, clean in half. He screamed, yelled; his arm bled. I smirked. Just like twigs.