From Dusk to Dawn

Chapter IV: Masquerade

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Chapter IV: Masquerade

And after all, what is a lie? It is but the truth in a masquerade.

- Alexander Pope

"Good afternoon, sirs." The clerk greeted as the boys made their way through the registration area. "We would like to register for the Masquerade Ball that's conducted by the President." Combeferre said, leaning towards the marble's front desk that's decorated with onyx coating and gold linings.

"How many?"

"Nine, to be exact," Combeferre replied.

"Hey! What about Marius?" mentioned Joly, in honest inquisition.

"He's been gone for five straight hangouts," Bahorel defended, defending the identity of Advocate through declaring it a hangout.

"Just include him, we'll contact him," Enjolras concluded. There's no time to be wasted.

"What is your financial status? As individuals," the clerk asked.

"What?" Combeferre complained. I knew it!

"Sorry sirs, it was ordered that the registrants must have a high amount of economic wealth and enough influence before they could be allowed to register."

"This is bullshit! Didn't the government say that it is for all citizens of the United States?" Bossuet exclaimed, prepared to leave.

But even before the front desk clerk could say anything, a figure strode across the front desk, a man taller than the clerk. A shadowy presence could be sensed from this man; something dark and mysterious. He whispered something to the clerk, and it didn't dare to say anything to him. After which, he disappeared into the shadows like one snowflake melts into water.

"Access granted," the clerk concluded, still shuddering from the icy and cold undertone of the mysterious man. "Here's the formal invitation and details to the ball."

Be careful little eyes what you see, because it's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the string

– Casting Crowns

Montparnasse stared at the mirror as he gussied and checked himself in front of the mirror. He made sure everything was in its proper place; from the adornment, to the linings of the coat, to the neckerchief, the shoes, and his hair. He was a fashion plate in misery; something in his eyes screamed weariness. "Look into the mirror Montparnasse, what a beautiful being you are." He muttered to himself, fixing his tie once more. "You're going to shine brighter than any stars above the sky tonight, and you are going to deteriorate those little rebels once and for all."

The sound of the shower room across Montparnasse' dressing room was unsettling; unsettling to keen ears. He traced the sound.

He walked along the invisible path that the sound made and bumped into Eponine, "Watch it." Montparnasse imposed. Eponine did not say a word, and went straight to her destination. Montparnasse shot her a glare and went straight to where the unusual sound was coming from. He unsheathed his pistol and went straight to the location and found water dripping, but the sound winced. Apparently, the sound was coming from Eponine's bathroom, which he successfully unlocked. On the far-right corner, he saw a small note, something written with smudged ink; and appears to be a diary. A diary in the bath room?

"It turns out, that even if I've quitted the nightclub,

There's still no one who cares..."

He tried to read through the rest of the phrases but couldn't make out what it says because of the smudged-ink and the little red marks that united along with the onyx black ink.Why the hell would a red- But then he began to think; blood. Could it be? Could it possibly be? The way that it was written was unsettling, but the way that there was a knife sharpener was more than disturbing.