The Phantom of the Abbey

Hey guys! This will be my alternate story whilst I work on The Fourth Tournament. It came to me in an English class, which is why it's so odd. I've been working on a similar story for a while, when it just came to me. So here it is.

And remember; don't sue, COMPLAIN.

The Phantom of the Abbey, Chapter I: Track Down This Murderer

He walked with a peculiar loping gait, but it got him around fast enough. Half his face was always obscured by a white half mask, but what was behind it, no one knew. He always had a wooden cane, with a strong iron star-shaped top. If you looked closely, you could see stars that twisted around it in a spiral. His iron grey hair was tied back, hidden from view by a classic brown cape, rimmed with yellow. His eyes were always full of pain; deep dark grey. Yet full of hope. His black, open necked shirt revealed part of a pale torso, and, at the collar bone here were four marks. Four blue triangles that everybody knew. A small, star shaped locket hung there, with a Russian symbol engraved. On his wrist was a tiny black rose, with words that no one could read. Blue bangs fell into his eyes, that were never pushed away. Unknown to everyone, there was a star, on the back of his neck, with more symbols. He must have been at least thirty, but he still looked a teenager. A ring was on his wedding finger, but no one had ever seen his partner. Once, he had been respected, everyone had known his name. Now he was known by another name.

The Phantom of the Abbey.


"Sir?" Bryan poked his head through the door hesitantly. Years of abbey training had taught him that intruding upon a master was not a good idea.

"Yes, Bryan?" The man's refined, cultured voice was rarely heard in the abbey. He turned towards Bryan, a pale hand hiding half of his face.

"Master Voltaire wants you." Bryan muttered, respectfully lowering his eyes. Bryan never showed submission, hated it, but 'Tom', as his name had been shortened to, was different. Rarely shouted, never raised his hand. It was plain he hadn't grown up in the abbey. 'Tom' nodded his head as he murmured the words to himself.

"Very well. Bring me my mask, boy." Bryan shuddered at the sudden change of demeanor, that reminded him of some one close, and Tom noticed. Noticed but did nothing, save give him a small, encouraging small as he passed. Bryan shook his head in confusion and walked the other way.


He hasted walking down the bloodstained halls. Hated being bowed to because he was Voltaire's assistant.

"My dear boy." Voltaire's voice reverberated around the room. "You know I will have no disguising of identities here."

He shuddered, but removed the mask, feeling sick with revulsion as his fingers brushed against burnt skin. He heard Voltaire tutting slightly as he reluctantly dragged his face up so their eyes met.

"It was a shame to mar two things so physically perfect." Voltaire whispered. He tensed, his whole body poised for flight. "You – and your charmingly good-looking son." He yelled in anger and attacked Voltaire with his fists.

"You sick – twisted -" He yelled. Voltaire simply pressed his foot down on the younger man's left foot. The younger man gasped in pain and crumpled to the floor.

"You disobeyed my orders, Seth. Remember that." He growled, kicking the young man. Seth moaned and curled up, minimizing the target area Voltaire could attack him.

"Leave him alone." Seth growled. "Do what you want to me, you've already ruined my life, but leave my son alone!"

"I will do what I deem fit." Voltaire replied, withdrawing the hem of his cloak away from the other man. "I am not the murderer here." Seth covered his face with his hands. Shoulders shaking, he reached for his mask.

He was little more than a ghost in the abbey. He'd known it for twelve years. Since he'd arrived here, forcibly dragged from Indonesia. He'd been dead since then.

"Daddy?" The two year old whimpered, clinging to the bars of the cot.

"Shh," His father whispered, gripping the child's hands. Looking around, he lifted the boy out of the cage. "It's alright Kai. I'm here." He murmured, rubbing the boy's back.

"Daddy, where's mummy?" Kai whispered. His father froze.

"Mummy's gone, Kai. She's not coming back." Slowly, he began to edge his way out of the room, Kai's head on his shoulder. He heard a noise behind him and began to run, praying that the other man would not see him. He began to slowly make his way down the stairs when he heard Kai give a cry of fear. In horror, he looked around, to be met with a blinding pain. He screamed in pain and lost his balance, falling down the stairs. It was a mercy when he was knocked out.

"Daddy!" Kai screamed.

Kai Hiwatari woke with a jump. Suddenly, he noticed the curious stares of his team mates. Even Tyson was awake before him, odd as it was.

"Kai?" Ray began hesitantly.

"What?" Kai snapped, climbing out of bed.

"You ok?" Max asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. Kai shrugged it off angrily.

"I'm fine." He growled.

"Dude! You were screaming in your sleep!" Tyson replied, getting angry.

"I said I'm fine!" And with that, Kai left the room.

You were screaming, Kai. Ray thought as he ate breakfast. And, shoot me if I'm wrong, but it sounded suspiciously like the word 'Daddy'.

Hey, guys. What did you think of the story? I know it's short, but I wanted to get it up tonight… Enjoy, and don't forget to R&R!

If you don't, I'll set The Phantom of the Abbey on you!