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
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