Master Key (for raggedy_doll)

[hypnotic_patter]

Given the nature of his business Ragdoll had a habit of going off the radar for days or weeks at a time. Billy was generally all right with it. Plenty of people had long-distance relationships where their first conversation in a month involved giddy Skype calls from remote South American dictatorships that had recently had a major administration shift.

Still, he kept tabs in the best way he could. When his Google Alerts notified him that "Peter Merkel Jr." had made the news again he abandoned his half-finished sonic gun and ran to see what his dancing doll had done to make the world more interesting. The scene of a smoking building half-submerged in the river made him smile. Meister popped open a soda and stretched out to watch the news report.

The costume worn by one combatant was identified as that of Peter Merkel Jr., better known as Ragdoll, while the identity of his attackers was unclear. Their brutal battle spanned several city blocks, ending at a fuel station used for local barges. It's unclear exactly how the fire started but the blaze quickly led to a massive explosion that demolished several nearby buildings. Witnesses report that Merkel's injuries during the battle were quite severe, indicating he most likely died in the explosion. The only bodies identified so far were those of local dock workers, and two others were burned beyond recognition. So far no one knows the motives behind--

Some part of him had always assumed Ragdoll was invincible. Rubbery, able to bounce back from any catastrophe with a smile and a bizarre quip. In some ways he had seemed more force of nature than mortal human. Billy left increasingly desperate messages on Peter's voice mail, but after a few days of silence denial seemed impossible. He huddled in his dressing room trying to write some appropriate requiem in Peter's honor. Nothing he could create seemed grand enough to encompass the beautiful kaleidoscope chaos that was Ragdoll. He spent hours staring at the ceiling with the RENT soundtrack playing in the background, devoid of inspiration or the will to create.

At the end of the week a knock on the back door roused him from restless drowsing. He leapt from his bed and ran to the door, still in t-shirt and boxers, hoping against hope that--

Who the heck were these dorks?

A group of one man and two women were gathered in his back alley. Their clothes were loose white muslin with embroidered red coats. All of them wore elaborate jewelry and golden bangles around their wrists, as well as beads threaded into their long braids. "Music Meister." The group bowed low to him, as if he were some pope of weird people. "It is an honor, a privilege, to finally be in your presence."

"Eh?" He brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Who exactly are you?"

"We are the Acolytes of the Celestial Echo." Possibly they could sense how close he was to ordering them to pile themselves in the nearby dumpster, so the explanation was extremely rushed. "We believe that the universe was created by a single song, and that this song was then taught by the gods to the first humans. All songs thereafter are humanity's feeble attempts to recreate that which they once knew, buried deep within our ancestral memory. No living person can repeat it, for time has withered our voices."

"I see. You're crazy people." When he found who gave them his address he was going to beat them with a stick. Billy frowned. "I'm really not in the mood for creepy cults right now."

Again the low bows, their jewelry clinking. "We are sorry for your loss. We know how it must pain you."

"You know nothing about it." He had the door slammed in their faces before the implications of their words fully sunk in. The door opened a crack. "...what do you know about it?" Few people knew he was connected to Peter, let alone dating him. It wasn't their business.

"We have been following you for some time. You have a voice like no other, something precious beyond measure, and we believe it may accomplish what no other voice can. You alone, Music Meister, could bring the first song back into the world."

"So basically you're saying you're my stalkers." He leaned on the door, arms folded. This was not garbage he needed to be dealing with before coffee and a shower. "I appreciate the sentiment, I just don't care. There won't be any performances for a while, and you should understand why."

"Fully." The lead man reached into the ragged bag hanging at his side and produced a familiar mask. It had obviously been cleaned, but traces of dried blood and dirt lingered where the false hair met the pale face. Billy gaped.

"Why do you..."

"It was pulled from the rubble by the police. We recovered it by--"

"Give it to me!" Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Billy snatched it out of the acolyte's thin fingers, hugging it tightly to his chest. His fingers ran fondly through the red mass of yarn. To Billy the mask was Peter's face as much as the scarred flesh beneath it.

"If you will come with us you may get back the rest of him...and more besides. The song created the world. Bringing one soul back from the dead would be a minor affair by comparison. Come with us and we shall teach you the song that meager mortals cannot sing. You will be worshiped as a new Apollo with we your willing servants, and your dancer shall return to your side."

Billy tongued the gap between his teeth. In his thoughtfulness he did not hear the soft humming by the acolyte in the back or see the way her fingers moved in arcane patterns across the symbol held in his first two fingers. The merest nudge, though even that took a great deal of their power. They appealed to the Songbringer's grief and his pride in unison, and this was only the final push to tip him over the edge of the cliff. The mask of the fallen dancer would bring his lover under their sway.

"Keep talking."

Comments

[raggedy_doll]

"Ewww."

He was more bothered by the strips of flesh and old, thick blood stuck to his mask than the patched-together corpse in front of him, or the way it fell lifeless to the ground. He was sure he wouldn't be able to clean this to his satisfaction; he tossed it to one side, instead, turning back to the acolytes.

"I'll just count that as broken, shall I? No matter," he said, leaping forward again. The head acolyte was backpedaling, so it was easier to reach one of the others -- unfortunate, but he wrapped himself and all his limbs around them anyway, squeezing to breaking point. "I don't see a point in threats, really. But I'm not happy with you, and your little Gatekeeper routine. Or would it be Keymaster? I can never remember."

[hypnotic_patter]

Billy was huddled on the ground, hands over his mouth. The fog hadn't so much lifted from his mind as been sandblasted out, leaving little useful to replace it. He had no idea what was going on or who he should be supporting, and the loudspeakers were echoing the sounds of the people screaming around him.

"Interloper! Blasphemer! Get him!" The cultists were reacting predictably. The foolish younger ones rushed in to grab Ragdoll while the older acolyte grabbed Billy around the shoulders Not now, not when he was so close!

"Sing!" he ordered in a harsh whisper. "Begin the rite before all is lost!" The ritual was nothing, merely pomp and circumstance to appease the masses. The only real power was in the song and the one who knew how to siphon it for his own usage. Billy drew in a shuddering breath and let out the first sweet note of the first song.

[raggedy_doll]

Oh. Oh, that was right. William was more addled than he'd expected, and apparently hadn't fully snapped out of it, or was too confused to argue, or something along those lines.

Even that one note was -- it wasn't like the Music Meister's usual hypnotic singing, but it still made his head feel like it was slowly filling with fog. And there was that itching again. Luckily, his mind was often a mess, so for the moment he could ignore it, and clambered on top of the acolytes who were trying to grab hold of him. "William!"

And he leapt towards the acolyte. "I will tear your head from your shoulders, priest!"

[hypnotic_patter]

The acolyte smiled, and the laws of physics briefly changed around Ragdoll's body. His body diverted to the side and slammed to the stone floor, sending him sprawling.

The song stuttered until the acolyte rested his hand on Billy's shoulder. Already he could feel his power growing. "Sing, Songbringer, fulfill your purpose!" he whispered in his prisoner's ear. Even with the look of horror on his face Billy continued to recite the memorized notes and strange words. His wide eyes were fixated on Ragdoll. Every note of the melody felt as if it were pulled straight out of his heart but he could not hold himself back from singing.

Around him the world warped, colors shifting like light through a prism. In the sky above stars dotted the dawn clouds that wavered like aurora borealis before the sun. The acolytes fell to the ground with their faces pressed to the dirt, writhing in jubilation. Finally.

[raggedy_doll]

Slam, sprawl, and roll. It hurt, of course, but that wasn't really something that registered for him most of the time, especially when he was otherwise distracted, and he was very angry now. He had been angry like this only a handful of times in his life.

("So... What do we do?" Black Alice's voice was nervous, and she raised it loud enough to try to get them to hear it through their earplugs, as she looked at the stars appearing in the suddenly-wavering sky. It was like a hallucination or a mirage or something, and she really didn't like it. "...Guys?"

"If he will not stop singing," Bane said, serious, "we will make him stop. Regrettably."

"What?! No, we can't..."

Scandal only hesitated momentarily. She didn't like Bane's idea any more than Lori did, most likely, but it was obvious they were going to have to do something. "All right. Come on.")

Attacking straight-on wasn't working, and too many acolytes were coming for him to be able to spend any time concentrating on them. He needed to do something to that head acolyte, or snap William out of his obvious spell somehow, but if he couldn't get over there physically--

Well. There was always one way to appeal to the Music Meister, wasn't there? He might not know the words or the proper tune to this song, but if he has to think of a different one, there is one that springs quickly enough to mind.

"The Music Meister sings the song that the world wants to hear..."

It's not the most beautiful voice in the world; he is no star of the theatre or opera. But it's clear, and loud, and he meets William's eyes.

"Let's not fight, let's get along," irony of ironies, "for your hypnotic profiteer...!"

[hypnotic_patter]

The crack was felt rather than heard, a jolting deep in the soul as something beautiful screeches to a halt. It had been done improperly.

Ragdoll was untrained and untalented but there was no better voice in the world right now. It sang his song and broke the chains around him. Billy mustered what little strength they'd left him and forced his teeth and tongue into a new configuration. T-the Music Meister i--is the man that...the world shall obey...

"No, no!"

So do your job, steal all you can, while you're under my sway! His elbow stabbed out and hit the acolyte in the chest, freeing him to make a mad dash for Ragdoll's arms. Around them the cultists were weeping for the lost beauty.

"He's mine! That song is mine!" The acolyte's jewelry glowed and the inscriptions on his coat seemed to move independently of the cloth they were sewn to. Rage flashed in his eyes. His fists clenched. "No imperfections will stand here!" He reached out his hand, trying to call Billy back to him.

Billy held tightly to Ragdoll and closed his eyes against the enthralling influence. A power beyond his own. Not to toy with minds and make them dance, but to control the fabric of the universe. But it was not quite right, not quite there, something was missing.

The revelation came over Billy like a message straight from the gods. Perhaps it had. "Can't be," he whispered, voice ragged. No, it could not be mine. It could only be ours.

[raggedy_doll]

Even Ragdoll felt that crack, and the loss would almost be unpleasant if it weren't for Meister joining the new song. The better one, if he did say so himself.

That elbow to the chest was fairly satisfying to watch, and Ragdoll moved out of his crouch as Billy ran straight to him, hooking an arm around his neck and swinging up to wrap around him when they impacted. Monkey-like, comfortable, and affectionate.

"Hello, William."

Then the acolyte was speaking again. And really, was there a way to tell him how terribly wrong he was? "I think you'll find that's untrue." William was his, after all; that was the whole point. Hadn't they been paying attention?

He sings more quietly again, since Billy is close enough that he can easily hear him. "It's too late, now's the date, when the world became unfurled..."

[hypnotic_patter]

Billy's power wrapped around Ragdoll, holding him as close as Ragdoll held his body. His song was the barest murmur in Ragdoll's ear. A satellite projects my might, around my finger you'll be twirled...

He was the Music Meister. He could do this. Billy turned away and faced the acolyte, just barely steady enough to remain on his feet. The passionate song flowed through him again da capo. The acolyte smiled in triumph as he wound the power to him, the air around them wavering like a mirage. Around them writhed the worshipers, oblivious to their approaching attackers.

Billy drew in a breath and reached out with his mind. Now, Doll. Sing with me.

[raggedy_doll]

("What are they doing?"

It wasn't clear whether Knockout was talking about the two "onstage," or the acolytes. No one was really impeding the Six's progress. The cultists seemed too busy having fits to care about them, at least at the moment.

"I don't know," Scandal said. And then Billy started to sing that song again, the world starting to change once more--

"I thought he'd fixed it!" Lori had really thought...)

Of course, the Music Meister could do this. As Billy had turned, Ragdoll unwrapped himself from around him, smoothly, letting his feet touch the ground again, though still supporting him. Not possible to tell if it was of his own will or William's, or which of them this belief came from, but did it matter? The Music Meister was fully capable of mastering any song, and bringing the world under his command with it; the first song was his now, and it was no exception.

Or, rather, it was theirs.

Where that understanding came from was unclear, but as he came further under the Meister's influence and was urged to sing, the proper words and tune filling his mind, it made perfect sense. As he started to sing, as they both sang, they were in fact singing it properly.

So the first song was a duet, and its worshipful cult had no idea. That was ironic.

[hypnotic_patter]

Two voices, two souls, one song in perfect unison. That was how the song was meant to be sung. He was Music Meister with sweat sticking his wild hair to his wan face, and he was Ragdoll with his thin hands dripping blood onto the dark stone, and both bodies seemed so puny compared to the greater grandeur.

The world was a cacophony of noises and he heard each one clearly. Water moved through the trees around them as they burst forth into fruit and flower simultaneously. The stone beneath their feet rang with the sound of beating fists and insect feet skittering for safety. The heartbeats of the acolytes and of the Six pounded clear drumbeats against the rasp of the air flowing into their lungs.

The power of a god. The power to see beyond what was there and create what had not yet been. The bangles melted from Billy's wrists and flowed onto the dais floor.

What do you know of music? Not sung but not quite spoken from two pairs of lips. You who seek only control. You who would lock it away from the world to serve your selfish purposes and reject all that humanity has sought to create. You do not understand the true purpose of music. It is to communicate passion from one soul to another, to bind people together and increase their joy a thousandfold. The song was never meant for men such as you.

The man babbled meaningless words lost on the wind, and Billy took no heed of them. Red flowed around his shoulders, speckled with stars. Did you think there was only one, at the beginning of time's measurement, to sing in isolation to the dead rocks? There were two voices, you fool!

[raggedy_doll]

Any thought of irony was swallowed up as the words poured forth. However many voices contributed to a song, it was still one solitary song, and this song enveloped the both of them until the word "both" was almost meaningless.

(The Six could hear and see everything that was happening -- and that by itself was overwhelming, because people couldn't normally hear so much, and what they were seeing was... impossible, though it felt right. The song and the words came straight through their earplugs, and they found themselves stopping, not able to will themselves to interfere.

"What is it?" Bane asked Black Alice. He did not have to raise his voice, even an iota.

"I... I don't know..." She reached out towards it, with no desire to steal; instead, she felt kind of like a little kid wanting to touch something beautiful. Her skirt ruffled in a nonexistent wind, one that swirled around instead of coming from one specific direction. "It's not... quite... magic. It's something big-- really big!")

The acolyte had no real chance of understanding their words. Men like him did not understand music; men like him could not, because they sought to control it and use it in ways that went against everything that it was. A song was meant for the audience as much as for the singer; how else could it create anything worth existing? A song that was shared was the epitome of songs, so how could it be meant for only one person?

This was a universe-creating music, and everything in the universe became more real, again, in the wake of it, colors and sounds and life exploding around them. How could they have ever hoped to cage and control this? These "acolytes" had never understood, and they had never had a chance!

[hypnotic_patter]

The acolyte stumbled over the hem of his robe and turned to run. It was almost laughable. How could you outrun the speed of a sound that encompassed the universe?

He made it only a few feet before long fingers wrapped themselves around his ankles. The acolyte shrieked in fear as broken limbs and crudely stitched skin pulled him to the ground, smearing him with congealed blood. The loyal corpse bound his arms in a lock, twisting him to face the Songbringer and the Mad Dancer.

Music Meister heard the blood rushing through the man's veins. So small against the greater fabric of the world. So petty. He stretched out his arm, pointing the path for his other half.

Unravel him.

[raggedy_doll]

He thought he could outrun this song, the song. That alone proved that he didn't understand, if everything else hadn't already proven it long ago.

The song filled everything, including that broken stitched-together corpse that had been masquerading as Ragdoll; it was little wonder that Music Meister could control it. And Meister barely needed to point the way before Ragdoll was leaping forward.

The acolyte's heartbeat and blood and breath were, for his tastes (as much as he could separate himself from William and from the song itself), too loud; his hands wrapping around the man's throat and squeezing let him feel the pulse and the rush of the first two of those. Strangulation could take a while, and had never been to his tastes; even though he couldn't easily wrap himself around this man and crush him while his doppelganger was holding him still, he could squeeze tighter and tighter until he felt, under his hands, the acolyte's windpipe give. Which he did.

[hypnotic_patter]

"Kk..." Meister watched as the flutter of his heartbeat slowed and silenced. A fitting punishment for a mortal sin against music. A slow death in exquisite sensation, his mind filled with the song he could never have, knowing that he would not live to hear its ending. They were not a forgiving god.

The corpse submitted once more to Meister's will. It lay back, arms spread with the cultist's body atop it, and collapsed into peaceful dust. The rising wind scattered it into the brightening sky.

Now the song reached its climax. Meister bade Ragdoll join him again as the pair looked out onto the twitching acolytes and the staring Six. Even their eyes seemed to blink in unison as their voices made the very fabric of the world vibrate. Light flickered across their skin. Flesh seemed distant and Meister felt the temptation to lose himself in the music completely. No him, no them, only music. The pair grew so bright they could barely be seen and their outlines wavered and blurred.

Coda approached.

[raggedy_doll]

A slow return to silence was as satisfying as any other part of a song, and the acolyte's entire body shutting down, quieting the noise of his breath and heart and blood, was much like that.

Meister did not need to gesture to him -- or he did not need to see that gesture -- for him to know to return to his side, walking... almost normally. He felt almost euphoric, and the rising brightness didn't bother his eyes at all as every line between them and the music blurred further--

It was strange and unfamiliar, and tempting, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Which was strange, because he felt like everything was perfectly right, incredible really, felt the powerful draw of the music, and that there didn't need to be anything else. But some corner part of his mind that was always sequestered away thought-- this? forever? is this necessary? There would be no difference between them, or between them and the music; they would be the music and the god, and he would be neither Ragdoll nor Peter Merkel, Jr., which might be all to the good, really, wouldn't it be boring? How could it be? It was strange.

("Hey--" Lori felt frozen, and somehow she knew they were all frozen, watching in awe, almost overcome by it. Her voice was quiet, but she forced it to raise, somehow-- "Hey!!")

Ragdoll reached over, taking hold of William's arm with both hands, unable to see his arm or his hands or really tell much difference between them. He wasn't sure he was grabbing onto anything solid at all, and that was fine. But he didn't let go, all the same.

[hypnotic_patter]

They would have no need of bodies. There would only be the song, forever, pulsing through everything. But...

There, before them, was the audience. Without the audience there was no music at all. He was a musician. His purpose was to create and to perform, not to command, not to break. What was godhood compared to composition?

Music Meister's hand found one of Peter's wrists and clenched around it. The first song was the inspiration for this little race to find an infinite number of variations on the melody and spread them to the corners of the universe. The works of humanity were not imperfect copies, as the fools had surmised. The songs were exactly as they were meant to be, just as the pair of them were meant to be. They were beautiful.

Music Meister and Ragdoll carried the song out to its final note. Rising, wavering, floating until finally neither set of lungs could carry it any longer. The stars faded before the light of the morning sun. Heartbeats faded until the ecstatic moans of the acolytes and the gasping sounds of their own lungs were the only things left in their ears.

Colors streamed back into their proper places, revealing Billy and Peter together upon the dais. Billy stood again in his costume, royal purple wrapped around green silk. His musical note glasses were rimmed with delicate threads of gold, and the feather in his hat was the long viridian tail of a bird of paradise.

Peter beside him wore his stripes and diamonds, ruffled lace around his wrists. A crimson cloak with a high collar was around his shoulders. Inscribed across his mask were the bars of empty sheet music. Perhaps the notes waited to be written, or perhaps the ones there were now invisible. Billy was leaning on him, about to fall over as he stared numbly at the sky.

[raggedy_doll]

The song faded, and was replaced by the much duller dawn. The rising sun wasn't as bright, as much as what had just been there...

But that really wasn't any problem. As the last note disappeared into the air, that feeling of acceptance was still there -- only this time, they were accepting letting go, of being what they were meant to be, and continuing to perform their own beautiful variations on the first song. As they should be.

The thought sat in Ragdoll's head like a strange thing as he came back to himself, feeling a full mask on his face again suddenly. As he held William up, he looked himself over, intrigued by the fact that he was wearing something entirely different than he'd shown up wearing.

"I may have lost your Phantom costume, William," he said, helpfully. Better to speak than to not know what to say! "I do hope you won't be cross."