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Curtain Call(IC)


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There's some careers people chance if they want stability. Lawyers, maybe. Doctors. If you work your ass off and get past the hurdles there's probably someone, somewhere who will pay you. Acting wasn't that. Acting was for the romantics, the dreamers, the ones who would rather face the possibility of not having a house six months down the line if it meant not having to wear a dress today. And . . . those who wanted the glory.

Och, how close that rang home. How strange and wondrous and beautiful. Silver Scream knew all the right words, had walked that road and knew the steps, the stumbles. Kat heard every word the way it was meant to be, and oh how it pulled at her. There was a part of her, and not a small one, that wanted nothing more than to make the jump down to the stage, come what may.

It was the perfect fairy-tale ending. But lying was just applied acting, after all, and Kat knew when she was looking at an act. She kept her head down and let the silence build.

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Well. This is awkward. Sam helps the actress escape, and now she needs to come back if she wants to do this deal in good faith. So, time to make yet another one.

With a sniff and a blur, yet another Kat fades into sight, wearing a slightly mussed version of her earlier costume, now sporting a flushed face and watering eyes, with a dopey, dreamy smile. "Oh, yes, yes!" she cries, overjoyed, "I knew your love of the theatre was true, that it was greater than... than this violence! Please, let us stop bringing pain like this." The image totters forward in small, tired steps. "And you have so much to give! A greatness that could last forever!" She swings her arms wide, in an open, welcoming gesture that may as well scream, 'Shoot me.'

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To the elated and still hopeful eyes of the Silver Scream, the teary-eyed and excited Kat rushing into 'her' arms was an answered prayer, and as the illusory pair swept towards each others' arms, her blue eyes flashed, sending a jolt of power into...thin air. Jerking away as the girl rushed through her, the ghost realized with a sudden, maddening shock, that she had been betrayed.

With a quiet, strained "Very well.", the ghostly illusion of Lauren Hammond vanished from the stage.

Drifting high above the wooden stage the Silver Scream drifted high into the air, her maddened eyes surveying the theatre with haste and no care for peering into darker shadows.

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"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Kat's voice filled the theater. "You've got one helluva pitch, lady. I bet Mephistopheles did too. But I'm not a sucker." The ghost had nearly fooled her. Nearly preyed on her. It was either be terrified or angry, and she chose anger. "Could've been a nice ending for you. Just faded, applause all around, in a moment of glory. There are worse ways to go."

"You know, I was wrong. I think I know who you are, lady."

Something in the theater creaked.

"I think were were a star for a while, just a while, and it fell apart. Am I close?"

"It was over. Over. And when you went up and died, you couldn't take it."

"So when you should've gone off with the reaper, you lied. Lied to yourself. 'It's not over!' Here's a little truth for ya' you're dead and gone. Dead and gone, without the grace to just let go. You're just a coward, Lady, that's who you are. You hid from your life, you hid from your death, and now you're hiding from a teenage. Mortal. Girl." Laughter. "You're nothing."

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There was a furious silence that deepened as each of Kat's words rang out, that built until at the edge of hearing sounded a dull, furious shriek.

"So when you should've gone off with the reaper, you lied. Lied to yourself. 'It's not over!' Here's a little truth for ya' you're dead and gone. Dead and gone, without the grace to just let go. You're just a coward, Lady, that's who you are. You hid from your life, you hid from your death, and now you're hiding from a teenage. Mortal. Girl." Laughter. "You're nothing."

"The tiger does not hide, it hunts! And need I remind you, darling" the Silver Scream growled, appearing in full view with a burst of dark, spectral power that sent chilling waves through the mortal airs, hovering in a ghostly breeze high above the floor, her skin a translucent silver and her teeth bared "That you were the one who hid first!" she glared at the theatre, eyes roving the seats "But that is immaterial. Come, face me, if you have built up enough courage!"

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Making her mad won't drag this out, Sam grumbles to herself as her new 'friend' taunts the ghost. But, as she watches, the real ghost comes out to play. She sighs, checks her watch, and curses under her breath. She hadn't wanted to resort to this.

She crawls from her hiding place and withdraws her influence, her illusion collapsing in an instant. The lights, the life, the vibrancy; all gone, leaving the theater as the lifeless husk it really is. The crowds, the fey, the lights, the glade. All gone.

Instead, with a flex of her fingers, she calls up a wispy ball of blue 'flame.' It's not really fire. Doesn't even make heat. She calls it fox fire, but the most technical term she's heard for it by genuine magicy types was 'anathema.' Just a big glowing ball of not drawn straight from Hell, unmaking anything it hits. Whether physical, or spiritual.

So, while the Silver Scream's gaze is aimed up, she dives across the hall and hurls her hellfire at the ghost before sliding into another row of seats. Let's see if a real wound can strike fear into the heart of this ghost.

She tries not to think of the damage to her best dress all the while.

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GM

The sphere of Hellstuff raged through the air, smashing into the floating spectre with a mingled roar of unholy power and a cry of surprise and pain from the enraged Lauren Hammond. Starting backwards, her ethereal dress sizzling as Kit's attack burned into the ghostly fabric, her blue eyes whipped to the line of seats where she caught a glimpse of a stray foot, just before it vanished. She lashed out a hand at where her attacker was hidden, and Kit very suddenly found herself face-to-face with the actress's wraith, glaring into her eyes with a hateful gleam.

Meanwhile, the real Silver Scream suddenly began to catch fire, giving a surprisingly convincing scream of pain(one of her old specialties) as she extended her power to herself and appeared to begin withering in a cool blue flame!

"Monster! Ingrate! You think you can treat me like this and get away with it? I will have this very theatre tear you asunder for this insolence!" she howled.

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Sam looks up from her spot lying on the ground, into the gaze of the singed ghost. She puts both hands behind her head and grins, looking completely unconcerned. "You go for the kill twice in a row and you're mad I singe your hair? You're just a sore loser. And scared you go through all the trouble of keeping out those 'magicians and hunters' just to find a real live witch who can hurt you."

With that, she rolls under a roll of seats and says, "Ta ta," before falling through the shadows, emerging backstage and out of sight.

As soon as she breaks her roll, she's on her feet and unzipping her dress, tossing it on some prop as she kicks off her heels, leaving her in a tank top, compression shorts, and stocking feet. Much more practical fighting garb. Probably won't be able to open negotiations back up, but maybe she's scared enough now that she knows she can be hurt.

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"That is because you aren't in the moral right, whelp!" the Silver Scream snarled, filmy flames crackling around her charring ghost body. She sank closer to the ground, eyes flickering around at the rafters on the false assumption that was where her enemy had gone. "And I am rarely so badly treated, yes" she added with contemptuous air "Most of the time those who I fight are genteel enough to talk me down instead of burning me to ash!" she waved at the slowly crumbling body, as her illusory self below the seats vanished.

"What sort of witch are you? Also, if I might ask, what have you done with that Katherine Shade chit?"

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It wasn't until the 'witch' up and voiced what Silver Scream was trying to do with the stupid maze doors that things clicked in Kat's head. If she was trying to keep the ghostbusters out and succeeding, then who was ideal for getting them in? Kat smiled in the darkness and raised herself to a crouch . . . and just as Silver Scream asked her question, she jostled the steel rafter, rattling loud enough for the whole theater to hear, if there'd been anyone else to listen.

Kat bit at the inside of her lip. Think fast, kid. She leaned over the edge, putting both her elbows on the railing and sneering down at the image of the Scream. "What, you think I'd show you, just like that?" She snapped her fingers, loud enough for anyone to hear. If Kat could convince her that she was one of the witch's phantasms, then it wouldn't matter that she'd blunder. "Get over yourself." And then she made the jump, vanishing in a red-black flare.

And in the same moment appeared on the lip of the roof outside. With a thought Kat swapped out to Warp's regalia and peered over the edge to the street.

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Moral right? Sam thinks to herself.

"Moral right?" Miss Shade's voice rings out above the ghost, as an image of Kat in her pristine stage outfit appears well above the ghost.

"You killed me first chance you got." Another Kat, with the wound the ghost seized control of an illusion to give.

"I offered you glory." Kat in her business suit.

"I offered you worship!" The fairy Kat clad in no more than fireflies and starlight.

"And when you called a truce, I came before you." Kat again in her original costume, this time more tattered. "And you killed me again."

This time, in the middle of the swarm of Katherine Shade, it's Sam's image that appears, the image in the tux she left at home, complete with white gloves. She's reclining on an invisible ledge as she speaks. "Miss Katherine Shade is gone. She's been gone. The first mirage you killed? That was cover for her to get away. You have been dealing Samantha Vance. And quite rudely, at that. I tried talking, I tried being nice. I waited until you'd gone for the kill twice before I so much as singed your hair, and you claim the moral right? That I'm the rude one? Even when you burst in on me making the best of a night going way wrong, I showed you patience. But that's it. What kind of witch am I?" The tuxedoed Miss Vance rises from her reclined position and marches towards her best guess at the ghost's location, mood far more stern. "I'm the kind that's not going to put you to rest, or send you where you belong. I will unmake you with a smile on my face if you try my patience any more."

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Warp left the Silver Scream spluttering in anger as she realized the deception, too quick to hear the shower of old-world invectives the historical harridan threw her way. Outside, the streets were already crowded with frightened and excited Freedonians, held back by a small band of officers politely making sure nobody tried to get into the building.

Just down the road, she could see the flashing lights, and in the air sirens wailed. The greater number of Freedom's Finest(a STAR squad van evident among them) would soon be there in force.


The Silver Scream was perhaps surprisingly uninterested in Kit's crisp declaration of her intent to destroy the ghostly diva. Instead, she was focused on the significantly less important part of the girl from hell's speech. Putting her hands on hips crumbling to ethereal ash she snapped testily

"Yes, I attacked her the first chance I got. She is an atrocious actress! Her and her preposterous friend deserve to be driven from the stage!" the shade of Lauren glowered at the tuxedoed illusion of Kit "Besides, at no point did I do anything that would have harmed you. I just wanted to come here, kill the daughter of an old friend of mine for being a terrible actress, and leave!" pointing theatrically at the rafters the ghost snarled "But then her sweetheart goes and challenges me! I will destroy her mind, send her soul tumbling down into the depths of Hell from whence she and all her kind come!" she glared at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to Sam's mouthpiece with a swish of unearthly fabric, the flames having reached her face and hair by now.

"As for you. Do you imagine I am so easily chastened, Ms. Vance? I am not about to cower and scrape at the threats and challenges from some wet-behind-the-ears illusionist whose sole attack barely scraped me!" she narrowed her spectral eyes, the blue fire charring and smouldering her flesh and hair as she announced "I will easily find you, now that I have heard your voice and know your face, and when I have you, you had best prepare to beg for a quick death. You forget that you are alone, as your friend has used her powers to escape and leave you in the lurch, and that this is my domain!" Her terrible eyes flashed with mad delight.

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A smile crawled across her face. Usually Kat liked to be done with the crime before STAR got anywhere near where it goes going on, but this was unique in that she couldn't do diddly squat about anything she couldn't actually lay her hands on. She jumped to her feet and took a long step through void to the inside of the police line, one hand on her hip, the other waving. "Hey! How ya doing? You the ghostbusters? Miss spectre is throwing a fit in there."

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"Oh, you just wanted to come here and commit murder," Sam's image spits, not believing this monster. She shouldn't be surprised. Time to purge this creature. "Fine. I'll show you Hell."

Without any pomp or ceremony, the many faces of Kat and Sam's own image vanish, leaving the theater unnervingly still, with little noise but the screaming mirage. But Sam isn't falling for that. She can't even see it from backstage anyways. Instead, she blocks out the noise and tries her hand at sniffing out the ghost directly. She'll be firing blind, but there's always a fix for that. More fireballs flying around until they hit. She calls up a blue ball of not in her left hand, a blue ball of not in her right, and chucks them both, where they wind out around the curtain and start spiraling in the general direction of the accursed ghost, covering as much ground as they can in their winding path.

Meanwhile, Sam dives into a rack of costumes before the ghost can give chase and spot her.

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The first anathema sphere hit Silver Scream square in her back, just as she was turning to address the very unladylike and frivolous use of the word 'Hell'. With a hollow shriek that echoed out into the street, the ghost grasped her side, eyes wide with horror as she felt her very being being torn asunder, the sensation of her soul truly burning away striking a mortal terror into the dead diva. With a tremendous force of will the Silver Scream gathered the threads of herself and halted the worst of the fire, shivering with terror and beginning "Wait! I-" only to fall into an ear-splitting scream as the next fireball shot clean through her.

In a flash of monochromatic power the ghost of Lauren Hammond flung aside her frail ghostly body, her spirit hurtling out of the theatre and back to the cinema that was her true home and domain, leaving behind a wailing cry that rose and fell horribly before being abruptly silenced.

Outside, the police started at the cry, clutching their heads before the shriek was stilled. Their leader nodded slowly to Warp "That your doing, miss? If so, I think she just pitched her last fit. All in, men!" he barked, leading the charge into the empty theatre, the squad looking in surprise around at the spotless room.

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As the dual balls of flame connect, Sam can feel the damage she's done, like smelling scorched flesh. Not pleasant, but certainly telling. And these screams are definitely real.

She comes out of her hiding place and steps out in time to see the scorched remains of a ghost tearing away out of the theater. She'd known she could actually harm ghosts with that attack, but she'd never actually scorched one to the point where it was fleeing in fear for its unlife. It's certainly not something she'd wanted to do; she'd been forced to it. An unfortunate necessity. However, it looked so cool, and there was no one around to even see it.

It takes her a moment to realize that with the illusion down, the next people through that door will probably be a small army of cops. Not her kind of crowd. So, Sam collects her possibly salvageable dress and her shoes, and steps through the shadows up to the rafters to avoid the fuzz, but hoping to get a word with her spectator before the night's out.

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Kat shrugged, easy. "I had some help." A modest spirit Kat was not. "Could be a trap, though. I'll check it out." Another of Terminus energy and she was standing in the rafters of an empty theater. She wasn't wearing a mask the texture of her face hadn't much changed; up close, it was clear to anyone who knew both and took a second to confirm that Katharine Shade and Warp were the same person.

For a moment Warp watched Kit warily, fully expecting tricks and lies and illusion to bring her guard down by the spectre . . . but no, she realized. She couldn't see her anywhere, and even she could hide herself, she could never bear her victims not see her when she got to killing them, not know who she was. She relaxed somewhat, put both hands on her hips and looked around. "I missed it," Kat shook her head sadly. "That's what I get for leaving the theater to chat."

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"Yeah," Sam says, stepping dramatically out of the shadows behind her 'friend' who just popped in. "And I put on a good show, too. Turns out, once you start burning her away, there's not much substance. Don't think I destroyed her, but if she can recover, it won't be soo-"

She stops her exposition as soon as she circles around and gets a good look at the fellow hero's face. "Wait, y-y-you... you're Kathrine Shade!" She blinks, and things click into place. "Um... heh... you saw all that, didn't you?" She scratches the back of her head and chuckles nervously.

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"Uh, yeah. That's me." And just like that Kat's act, posing all cool in the rafters over the stage nearly shook apart. Her cheeks went red and she drew up a hand in front of her mouth in a pretend cough. "Everything . . . "

Warp looked the girl over a little closer, and she got to look down to do it—not something Kat was used to. Sam looked small, young, and her stammering made her seem younger. The pair were comrades in mutual embarrassment. "You've got," Kat bit down on the inside of her lip, "a vivid imagination."

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"Yes. Well. Fairies, y'know? And I had to put on a spectacle!" She's grasping at straws. "Though really, the way the illusion works, I just set up the framework. You mind was filling in most of the details, so it was kind of an even split." The rambling statement is mostly true until the end. Her 'framework' doesn't leave a lot of room for interpretation, even if the subjects' minds are filling in the details. Of course, at this point, she's talking so fast it's hard to follow anyways. "And it almost worked! She was totally about to bite, and I would've just had to keep it up 'til morning!" Of course, all the excuses for why it was a good idea doesn't really change the idea.

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Kat was only really paying attention to bits and pieces of what Sam was saying. Her face was rising to a bright shade of red at the reminders and she knew down to the roots of her soul how imperative it was to get Sam to just stop talking. Throw her off the railing? What? No, no! Who's the hero supposed to be here? No.

She reached over and grabbed Sam's shoulders. "Hush." Thank god for acting, thank god. Her voice was steady. "Slow down tiger. Breathe. You look like you've seen a ghost." Stop talking stop talking stop talking about it! A corner of Kat's lips turned upward, amused. She clapped the witch on the back, hard enough to jolt the poor girl. "Pull yourself together, we're not squeamish in theater." So stop, stop, stop reminding me!

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Kat's calm, however faked, is contagious and Sam slows down, though her glow-in-the-dark ginger blush takes longer to go down. And she's not noticing much angry. Joking is a good sign. It means she can keep pushing for her own amusement. That smirk even invites it! Clearly, this conversation must continue.

"Or what's left of one," she corrects. "But that trick really was hilarious, wasn't it? I wonder if I could make it into an entire play..." As she continues her rambling musings, a little pixie flits behind her head, threatening to bring the entire fantasy world back.

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Aaaaaaaaah, no! No! "Seriously though," what needed talking about what needed talking about what needed talking about . . . "Are we sure that ghost's gone? It'd be an embarrassment if she showed up out of nowhere out of nowhere looking for revenge." Kat put a hand on her waist and scowled. "It sounded like it had beef with Jael and . . . Damn psychic ghost knows my name. She could cause all sorts of trouble."

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"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it, at least not for a while." Sam gives a vague, waving gesture, as if shooing away the concern. "What I hit her with can unmake a ghost, and I got two direct hits on her. If there's anything left of her, it's not much. If she can ever recover, I'm sure it'll be a while." In truth, she doesn't know much about ghosts and ghostly healing, but it seems a reasonable guess to her.

She dons her impish smile, places a hand on Kat's shoulder and adds, "So don't worry, you can get ready to do your big part in my play yourself." Prod prod prod prod prod. It's fun seeing how long it takes to get her new 'friend' to snap.

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Once is chance, twice might be coincidence, but thrice was malice. That made one, two, three none-too-subtle hits to move on. Catty girls feeding off other people's embarrassment, Kat knew how to handle. Warp's eyes went narrow, her mouth formed a thin line. The fact that the girl had burned away a ghost was a white mark for her, she supposed, but that was no reason to stick around. Kat was framed by a hungry, pulsing redness as a fissure opened in the air behind her. "Ghost's gone, then? Everybody's safe?" She brushed Kit's hand off—not gently. "I'm done." She turned around and stepped through, calm and casual as could be. It knitted neatly shut behind her and left the theater in darkness and silence.

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