[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

Phantom ✓

Eminem - Darkness
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"if I am a phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so." -Gaston Leroux
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The 20th of May, Year 2020.

"You're taking another one of my students?!" Nobosklav shouts in annoyance, glaring at his brother from before his desk. "Why now? After all these years, why did you decide to start classes of your own now?!"

"Why are you shouting, brother? I asked for the boy because you're not teaching him properly." Petro says to him flatly, but Nobosklav isn't having any of it.

"What do you know? All you've ever cared about is keeping the school going, while making sure it stays hidden, because you know you're fucked if you get found out. You've never distracted yourself with any of the kids we've gotten since-!" He stops abruptly, realizing that finishing his statement will be triggersome. The brute have not forgotten what his brother is capable of.

Petro stares at Nobosklav blankly, brown eyes dull and graying chestnut hair gelled back. He states, "Well. There is a first. For everything."

"What changed?"

"Nothing changed." He cocks his head to the side smirking. "These are just special cases."

Nobosklav clenches his jaw stepping backwards, finally accepting his situation. His brother is up to something and he's not about to make the stupid mistake of getting in his way again. It was five years ago when Faye-ann Moskal died; an innocent beauty that killed because she loved her father, but he had already stopped seeing her as his blood and only saw her as something that brought in the money and infamy. She was known, a phantom, they called her. She moved at night, and at day, everything was as normal as it could ever be. Then, she vanished. Nobosklav is not about to stop an obsessed man from trying to recreate the Phantom. What he's confused about though, is why Phillipeño is needed.

He also isn't going to risk asking.

"You can have the boy." He rolls his eyes. He adds, "I know you can teach him better, because your skills are far greater than mine, but don't turn him into a sick fuck like you."

"Noby," Petro frowns in a sardonic way and Nobosklav cringes at his childhood name, "you're a sick fuck too."

"No." He chuckles dryly, face still screwed up, "I'm a fuck up because of our past, but you're fucked up. You let it get to you, I didn't." Shaking his head, he turns to leave. "Good evening, brother."

Petro grins, staring after his younger brother as he walks out of the office crankily. And, when the door closes, he bursts out laughing, because what Noby just said actually makes sense.

'He's a fuck up, but I'm fucked up?' Petro thinks, laughing so hard, tears come to his eyes and he gets up, ready for bed. 'You're really a fuck up, Noby. Always the one making mistakes. No wonder I came out on top.'

He fixes his chair neatly behind his recently cleared desk, all with a small smile on his face. He turns off the light and pulls out a room card, unlocking and opening a side-door, leading to his private chambers. Changing into light clothing doesn't take long and he shuffles into his king-sized bed, still smiling. The demons in his head are smiling too, preparing to haunt his dreams tonight as soon as he closes his eyes and turns off the light.

Goodnight.

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