Death of a Magician

[Originally written during two separate Story Dice sessions with different rolls]

The gunshot reverberated around the packed theatre as the magician prepared for the grand finale of his show. He stood motionless with his back towards the audience, surrounded by fake trees, purple and blue beams of light, and a sparkling backdrop that made the stage look more like a fairy-infested forest at midnight, than a century-old room hosting a show at noon.

Confused and startled, audience members flinched in their seats as screams of surprise escaped their lips. A brief moment of silence followed, with all eyes locked on the magician. No one watching was aware that this wasn't part of the trick.

Slowly the magician turned, a look of horror and shock on his whitened face. A stain of red quickly expanded across the white shirt underneath his tuxedo jacket. He stumbled sideways a step and opened his mouth to speak, but was only able to groan out a shallow "help," as he collapsed onto the legs of a standing light. Sparks erupted from the casing as the large bulb shattered and the last remnants of electrical current rushed through.

The illusion of magic ruined; the reality of danger revealed.

Chaos erupted in the house of the theatre as ticket holders emptied into the aisles, frantically trying to escape. Dresses, jackets, and purse straps tore as they got caught on arm rests and the hinges of folding chairs. Ankles buckled as women quickly tried to escape in their heels.

Amidst the panic and the push towards the exits at the back, a man who was seated in the last row was headed towards the stage. He jumped from row to row, doing his best to use the armrests as steps and the shoulders of other patrons as stabilizers. Halfway down, he saw an opening and dropped off the seats onto the floor and darted towards the aisle.

In a full sprint, he bolted to the front of the house, pushing past the few stragglers who got caught in their seats. He doffed his suit jacket as he leapt onto the stage, revealing the shoulder harness where he kept his concealed pistol. As he slid into position next to the fallen magician and began to apply pressure to the wound, his eyes quickly scanned for any signs of danger.

As he looked towards the rafters, the bright stage lights met his eyes, leaving the detective temporarily blinded. He tried to blink the spots out of his vision as he continued to press on the magicians wound.

Continuing to blink, he turned towards the wings. Multiple bodies frantically moved around the stage, bumping into each other, set pieces, and the curtains. All this commotion made it impossible for the detective to distinguish the features of any singular person. However, he didn't need clear vision to recognize that five large figures dressed all in black were now rushing towards him and they were ready for a fight.

"I’m Detective Lawrence of Scotland Yard," he shouted, hoping these were stage hands and not hitmen. "He needs a doctor, we don't have much time."

The men skidded to a stop and looked at each other before looking back at the detective and the bleeding magician with uncertainty on their face.

"Doctor. Now!" Lawrence screamed, certain they were not the cause of the attack coming to finish the job. "Please," he softly added. His plea intended more for the universe than the living as it was becoming more and more obvious that the pressure he was applying would not be enough to save the performer's life. Lawrence's eyes were fixed on the pool of claret that was forming under his knees on the stage.

A gurgle and an undecipherable groan escaped the mouth of the magician. Lawrence looked up and locked eyes with the dying man.

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here and I will save you, it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay," Lawrence tried to assure despite knowing he was almost certainly lying.

"Shh, shhhu," the magician shushed.

"It's okay, it's okay..."

"Schlüssel," the magician lifted his hand to the breast of his tuxedo jacket and spoke again, "der schlüssel."

Detective Lawrence looked around for assistance, but no one was nearby. The entire theatre was practically vacated by all, audience and staff alike. Certain that death was imminent and all hope was lost, Lawrence removed one hand from the wound and reached inside the jacket pocket. His fingers grasped onto the small metal key and removed it.

"Verstecken," the german groaned. His final word leaving the non-german speaking brit knelt over him confused. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Detective Lawerence pleaded for more, the magician would never speak again.

As reality began to set in and Lawrence accepted that the magician was lost, his body tensed as all his senses screamed "Danger." His vision began to blur as his eyes began to water. The hairs on his neck stood up as he felt the temperature increase around him. His nose filled with the stench of smoke and his ears perked up as he heard wood pop and crack behind him.

Lawrence pocketed the key and turned his head to assess the situation. The magical forest set was ablaze at the front of the stage and beginning to spread up the curtains.

"Shit." Instinctively, Lawrence grabbed the deceased magician's arms and lifted the corpse onto his shoulders. He quickly stood up and began stumbling towards the backstage area furthest from the flames in hopes that he could find an exit before the fire or smoke overtook him.

---

Lawrence jolted awake, his reflexes on high alert, ready to fight his way out of the fire if needed. But, his body quickly relaxed as his brain adjusted out of his dreams and back into the reality of the police precinct.

"Woah man, relax. That must have been an intense dream," the dark-green suited detective standing next to Lawrence's desk said with hands raised, a coffee in each hand. "Next time I'll be sure I have my riot gear on," he joked and extended an arm out, as if the coffee was a peace offering.

"Come off it, Dice," Lawrence chuckled as he took the lukewarm coffee. "You know you'd need more than a shield and helmet to stand a chance against me."

"Oh, we got jokes today? Alright, alright." Detective Dice took a seat in his desk next to his partner's. "So, you gonna tell me who you were dreaming about, or do I have to let my imagination run wild."

"The magician."

"Kinky," Dice quipped back with a smirk and a sip. Lawrence returned a stoic stare. "And a bit morbid, but who am I to judge. Any new revelations?"

Lawrence continued his silent stare for a few more seconds before a sly smile and a chuckle escaped his lips. "Not really."