Relic

Chapter 6: Gold Opera

 Monsieur stands before his mirror, trying on a series of near identical looking, overpriced glasses that only Monsieur could possibly discern the differences between. He gently nods his head to his favourite EDM song that he's blasting in his gold-black penthouse. Gold lights line the city below. In the distance, casinos, hotels and flashing billboards. "Gold-light district" hangs in the skyline, drowning out the stars above. Finally, he decides on one pair of glasses and, instead of donning them, places them into his carry case. He walks to the entryway, where an elaborate gold mask hangs. He practices his skills. He snaps his fingers and an otherworldly, gold pistol appears in his hand. Although, it's more accurate to call it a hand cannon with its size. With a flick of the wrist, it disappears. Another snap, it comes back. He practices a few times to get a seamless rhythm. Natural, like breathing. He claps his hands together and between them appears his iconic sniper rifle. He does a few repetitions with his rifle as well, before finally putting on the mask.

Stepping outside, he meets a stunning Calavera, shining with purple. He takes a moment to take her in. Her dress, her mask, her stockings, her jewelry. Her perfect form and skin. "What, cat got your tongue?" She smiles. "If only this wasn't for business."

"We can always change that!"

"If we do, we won't get any work done today." He places his hand on his hip. "Shall we?" Calavera locks arms with him. "We shall." They walk out into the busy streets. Calavera can't help but feel a little tense, walking around human territory without a collar. Were they to get caught...

Monsieur confidently opens the door to the limo for Calavera and takes his seat around the other side of the car. After they get seated, the chauffeur starts the ride. Monsieur and Calavera share a glass of champagne with one another. Monsieur looks out the window as they pass by one of his casinos. He can't help but to show a sign of pride creeping up on his face. A brief ride later, they arrive at the theatre. Many humans line up outside, all well-dressed and donning a variety of masquerade masks. Monsieur takes Calavera with him through the VIP section, skipping the line entirely, much to the jealous looks of the others. Making their way through the weaving, red-carpet hallways, they arrive at their lofty booth, staring down at the stage below.

More people flood into the theatre below, and as they did, their voices fill the auditorium, bouncing across the walls. But then, the lights dim. Silence. The curtains raise. A masked figure steps onto the stage. Spotlights snap awake. Moments later, the figures powerful voice booms, filling the theatre. Five minutes into the show, a waiter walks into their booth and places down a massive platter with a dome on it, before leaving in silence. Opening it reveals a letter.

Good evening, Monsieur. As you know, the VIP is somewhere in the audience. Around you are three targets closing in on the VIP. Should you let them get their way, our lead will be gone. The VIP can be identified with the brim of his hat. For security reasons, I can not divulge what that feature is, but you should be able to figure it out. As for the targets, we have little information on them, aside from the fact they are former Death Heads. Be on the lookout for their markings and equipment. Avoid confrontation unless otherwise necessary and extract the VIP at all costs. Good luck.

Monsieur closes the letter. "Are the cameras in place?" He whispers. Calavera leans, close enough to kiss him. She places a small earpiece in his ear. "All set. I'll keep track of everything from up here. Oh, and don't worry about me." She grabs her chest and pulls it aside, showing the pistol next to her breast. She winks, before sitting back into her seat. Monsieur smiles and steps out of the booth.

In the hallway, he places his back against the wall, looking both ways for people. "All clear" Calavera tells him over the earpiece. With a tap, the fake wall opens up and Monsieur slips through. The sound of the opera is drowned out inside the secret passageway as he makes it up to the snipers nest right above the stage. He claps his hands together and takes out his sniper. He fiddles with it for a bit, changing the settings for silent shooting and brings the rifle to his shoulder. As he stares down the barrel of the rifle, two of the five holo-scopes flick up, giving him precise vision of the entire theatre.