• Episode 9: The Last Days of Ragtime

    Credits and Transcript

  • Episode 9 "The Last Days of Ragtime" - Credits


    Written by Gabriel Urbina.

    Directed by Zach Valenti

    Script Editing by David K. Barnes.
    Performance by Tom Crowley as Robin Fend.
    Original Music by Alan Rodi.

    Sound Design by Zach Valenti.

    Produced by Sarah Shachat, Zach Valenti, and Gabriel Urbina,

    along with Angel Acevedo, Jenn Schneider, and Amy Tanguay.

    Episode 9 - "The Last Days of Ragtime" - Transcript



    Announcer: The following episode contains discussions of murder and physical violence, as well as depictions of the fantasy violence, gambling, and drinking. Listener discretion is advised.


    [Unseen opening credits music plays.]

    Announcer: Long Story Short Productions presents... Unseen.


    [Unseen Theme continues playing.]


    Announcer: Episode Nine. The Last Days of Ragtime by Gabriel Urbina.


    [Music fades.]


    ROBIN: I... hate... Paris. I hate it!


    [Jangly, upbeat, Parisien guitar music begins playing. We hear the sounds of a city street in the rain.]


    ROBIN: If you like Paris, that’s fine. It just means that you’re wrong and I’m right, and we’re both gonna have to learn to live with that.What’s so bad about Paris, you ask? Oh not much, as long as you don’t mind the weather, the noise, the way les Parisians drive -


    [A car drives by, its horn blaring.]


    ROBIN: - the crowds, the fact that it’s impossible to figure out what rue goes where, how ridiculously expensive everything is, and the way everyone insists on being so bloody French.


    [There's a ding and all the sound in the scene winds down and freezes.]


    ROBIN: Then again, might be I’m not being fair. See, eight months earlier -


    [A tape rewinds.]


    ROBIN: - when your dear friend Robin Fend - that’s yours truly - made his triumphant arrival to La Cité, things were different.


    [Lively, upbeat jazz music plays.]


    ROBIN: I had a song in my heart, a lovely tailored suit on my back, and a big suitcase full of ill-gotten gains that needed to depart from my care. The nighttime establishments of Paris are very kind to a fae man in those particular circumstances. I was rather inclined to, as they say, let the good times roll.


    [We hear the various sounds of a party and a poker game.]


    ROBIN: There were drinks, music, card games, a friendly wager or two, some good decisions, some decisions that the judgmental might call bad ones, a bit where things get quite foggy... And then, one day, the bill arrived.


    [There's a needle scratch, and the music stops.]


    ROBIN: Turned out that somewhere in the rolling of the good times, I’d wound up owing quite a large sum of money to a group of gentlemen you wouldn’t want to owe half a franc to. From there, my time in Paris took a turn towards... the unpleasant. Threatening messages, phone calls in the middle of the night, knives held up to the throat, gravely voices saying, “We mean it, Fend, if you don’t give us our money by Friday, we’ll cut off this or that delicate bit,” yadda, yadda, yadda. You know how it goes.


    [Another ding, and the sounds of the street resumes. We hear Robin's footsteps as he walks down the street.]


    ROBIN: So, uh, that’s about the gist of it. I needed money. I didn’t have that. I needed the best next thing: friends. None of those either. Which left me with Option C: I needed to find a way to make myself scarce. To vanish, to disappear so completely that not even magic could pick up the trail. Easily said, very much quite hard to do. Sort of thing that might take a miracle.


    [Thunder rumbles over him.]


    ROBIN: Fortunately... I knew just the place where one might be able to find a miracle worker or two. And so... on that rainy Thursday night in Paris, I made my way to the Ragtime.


    [Another rumble of thunder. Robin walks down an alleyway.]


    ROBIN: I’d never been to this place before. The folks in the know had always made it clear that the kind of trouble you find there was above my weight class. But desperate times, so I figured I’d doll myself up and drop by. The Ragtime was one of those places that’s made to not be found if you don’t know what you’re looking for. Back alley in the Eight Arrondissement. And even then, you need to knock on it just the right way.


    [He knocks on a door.]


    ROBIN: Once you do bit of the metal opens up -


    [A metal slit slides open.]


    ROBIN: - and a pair of bright green eyes peer out. This gruff, low voice asked, “Mot de passe?” I went [shaky voiced] “Rêveuses.” No, no, no, wait, hang on, not like that. It was more like... [exaggerated confidence] “Rêveuses.” The green eyes looked me over one, twice, and then -


    [The metal slit slides closed.]


    ROBIN: And just like that, the opening closed up again. A moment passed. Then another. And another.




    ROBIN: Okay, I started to get worried. I’d spent the last of my cash buying the directions to this place, and the password. If I’d been had, that was it. I had nothing. No back up plan. I’d have to -


    [A lock opens. Another. And another. There's a thrum of magical energy.]


    ROBIN: As I was saying...


    [The door opens with a creak.]


    ROBIN: A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a staircase that led down into the basement. I nodded to the doorman and - nonchalantly - walked in.


    [The door slams shut behind him. He starts to go down some stairs.]


    ROBIN: Now, most people think of the speakeasy as an American invention. Nineteen-twenties, age of Prohibition. And the word might come from thereabouts, but the concept? That goes quite a bit further back in the Unseen World.


    [We start to hear lively music, growing louder as Robin approaches.]


    ROBIN: The truth is, as long as magic’s been hard to see, there’s been a market for places where... well, where you know that everyone is going to see things your way. And as long as that’s existed, there’s been a market for places where one might see a man about the kinds of magic that some would find... unseemly.


    [He opens a door. The sounds of music and a bar ambiance grow much louder. Lively jazz music will continue playing unless otherwise noted.]


    ROBIN: And in Paris, there’s no better place for unseemly than The Ragtime.


    [Robin walks through the space.]


    ROBIN: I remember the first thing I noticed about the place was the air. There’s something about magically cleaned air that just... smells different, feels different. After that it was the polished wood floors, and the marble statues along the walls.


    [There's the sound of grinding stone.]


    ROBIN: Ahh, the marble statues that changed positions every so often. Very nice. I made a mental note that someone on the premises must be a serious wonder-worker.


    [Glass tinkles softly, with a sparkling sound.]


    ROBIN: That’d also explain the chandeliers. They were four of them, floating over the tables. Every few seconds, the glass in them would rearrange itself, change color, sort of like a kaleidoscope. If you... What? Why are you looking at me like that?


    [A pause.]


    ROBIN: Oh, I’m sorry, did you expect the place to be a dive or something? Nah. This was a luxury establishment. When I said I made myself look like I’d fit in with the worst of the Parisian underground, I meant I’d done my best to look like an investment banker. Speaking of which... moment I came in, three guys looked up at me from a table. Slush fund babies, by my guess. As I walked past their table, I caught a glimpse of the glass vials.


    [A soft hum.]


    ROBIN: Underground Oubliation. The illegal memory trade. Very naughty, that. Sort of thing the Blackstar would have a field day with. Most of the other tables are empty. A slim young woman in a lovely green dress sat by herself.


    [The clink of a wine glass.]


    ROBIN: She raised her wine glass at me when she caught me staring, and I moved on. Two harpy gentlemen were sitting at a corner booth, by this roaring fireplace, talking to a tall man in a trim suit.


    [We hear the sound of a roaring fire.]


    ROBIN: By the look of him, probably a Witness - just enough magic to find a place like this, not enough to do anything with it. If I had to guess, I’d wager he’s offering the two winged gents a large amount of money to make some problem he has... disappear. Something needs to find its way out of someone’s vault. That sort of thing.


    [He walks on. The sound of a fireplace fades out.]


    ROBIN: I’d just about made it to the bar when it happened.


    [A loud bang. All the music and the ambiance cuts off.]


    ROBIN: There was this bang, and this black door in the back of the room swung open. A chair flew out of it, and crashed onto the floor by the bar.


    [A clatter.]


    ROBIN: But what was really interesting about it was what was tied to the chair.


    [Echoy and distorted, we hear a groan of pain.]


    ROBIN: This kid, a bunch of dried blood caked on the side of his head. He looked like he couldn’t be more than nineteen. Who knows what he’d done - got caught cheating on a bet, or defaulted on the wrong loans to the wrong person. Then, another figure emerged from the back room. Tall, slender guy, with a pale face and these... blank eyes. Just from the way he moved, I could tell what he was. They call them specters. Men and women who move through the world without leaving a trace... and who handle all sorts of unpleasantness for those who can afford to get it handled.


    [The chair starts getting dragged across the floor.]


    ROBIN: He grabbed the chair, and started dragging it back towards the black door. And the kid’s just looking around with these big desperate eyes. Shouting at us, you know, all the usual stuff. “Oh god, please. Don’t let him do this. For God’s sake, do something. Please, I’m begging you, do something before -”


    [A door slams shut. Silence.]


    ROBIN: And then... they were gone. And it was like that poor idiot had never even existed.


    [A pause.]


    ROBIN: Anyway, I got a drink.


    [Ice clinks on a glass. The sounds of music and the lively bar ambiance resume.]


    ROBIN: Triple vodka, on the rocks. With that in hand, I figured it was time to get down to business. See, the bloke that ran the Ragtime - these days, anyway - was one of the dark, shadowy figures of the Parisian underground. Nobody knew his real name, just what he was called: Sans Reflet. The Man Without Reflection. We’d never met, but I’d heard a lot about him. That he was a powerful magician, sort that could do just about anything under the sun. That he was ruthless but fair, in his own way. That he liked to play games, and that he loved a good story. Figured if there was someone that could get me out of Paris before my mistakes caught up to me, it was him, so I was hoping I’d be able to arrange a tête-à-tête.


    [He sips his drink.]


    ROBIN: And then I saw this guy. Tall bloke in a dark suit sitting by himself at one end of the bar. Thoughtful. Watchful. And a - a hint of something a touch more violent behind his eyes. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just... sitting at the bar. I said to myself, “Are you watching closely? Because if that guy’s not Sans Reflet, I’ll eat my hat.”


    [Some footsteps as Robin walks towards the man.]


    [The scene fades down.]


    [A moment of silence.]


    [The music and ambiance of the bar fade back up.]


    ROBIN: Ten minutes later, I was wondering whether I should start with the rim or the bowl...


    [He groans.]


    ROBIN: Still didn’t know who the blonde man in the dark suit was, but he wasn’t Sans Reflet, that much I was sure of. I hadn’t exactly asked, mind you. I hadn’t gone: [mock voice] “Oh, pardon me, sir. If it’s not too much trouble, might one ask if you are that terrifying figurehead of the criminal underworld, the Man Without Reflection?” Doing that’d be a good way to find out what’s behind the black door that kid got dragged through. No you sort of... ask around the subject. Say the right words, let them know you’re in the know... without ever saying you’re in the know. It wasn’t my finest moment, but I think I managed to keep my composure as... I scurried away in profound embarrassment. Forget getting out of Paris, at that moment I just wanted to drown myself in my triple Vodka.


    [There's a clink as another glass is placed in front of him.]


    ROBIN: Or... maybe in the glass of Pinot Grigio the bartender had just put in front of me? I looked up at him, and he pointed off towards one of the tables. “Compliments of the lady,” he said.


    [A chair is pushed back. Footsteps as Robin walks.]


    ROBIN: As I made my way back towards the corner, where the young woman in the green dress was still sitting, I took a moment to reflect... on what a sodding idiot I am. Sans Reflet. The... Woman Without Reflection. I looked at her properly this time, and forced down the lump in my throat. She’d seemed so ordinary when I’d walked in. But now... now I could see the callouses on her hands, the hard edges on her face, the faint scar running down her jaw. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it all, until she said: “It’s the dress, darling.” Apparently, apart from being fabulous - and having very roomy pockets - it also enchanted her appearance. Just little touches here and there, to make the eye pass over her. Terribly useful if you’re a criminal mastermind. Sans Reflet asked me take a seat, and I did.


    [A chair is pulled back and sat down on.]


    ROBIN: I gave her my thanks for the wine, which she cordially accepted, and she asked for my name, which I cordially lied about. All the steps in the dance of meaning and implication, all leading up to her asking the inevitable question: “So, Mr. Fend... what can we do for you on this fine evening?” And when she said that, she looked at me. And looking into those eyes... I realized this woman was only young in all the ways that didn’t matter. The mind behind those eyes was a steel trap, and I was stepping into it.


    [He gulps.]


    ROBIN: I thought, you know, it’s not too late... You haven’t done anything that stupid yet! Just say all you’re looking for is a bit of a drink and some strange, decadent company. We’ll make a night of it. I mean, sure, you’ll get killed if you don’t get out of Paris tout de suit, but that’s not so bad. Not compared to what this woman could do to you.




    ROBIN: Then again... in for a penny, in for a pound. So I tell her. I need a way out of Paris. Quick. Discreet. Untraceable. Tonight. She nods, and says it’s quite possible. Then she quotes me a number. One with... well, quite a lot of digits in it. Safe to say, more than I have. Fortunately, I’d come prepared for just such an eventuality.


    [He takes out a deck of card, and flips through them.]


    ROBIN: Word on the street was Sans Reflet enjoyed the occasional game of poker. I asked if she might be willing to play for passage out of Paris. She didn’t answer, she just... looked at me. Deciding if I was even worth her time, maybe. “And if I was?” she asked. “ What would you bet against that very valuable service?” From her sneer, it was clear she didn’t think I had anything besides the clothes on my back, and it was unlikely those would get me very far at her table.


    [He takes out an object. We hear a powerful hum.]


    ROBIN: Then I showed her the other thing I’d brought with me. That wiped that sneer off her face.


    [Music fades down.]


    ROBIN: I should explain. See, a person like Sans Reflet, it isn’t easy to tempt them. Half the bloody city probably owed her their first-born. No, to really get the attention of the underworld boss who has everything, you need to move past the realm of the practical. You need to wow them.


    [The hum gets louder.]


    ROBIN: There isn’t a lot of Phoenix Fire left in the world. Old bit of magic that one, old and potent. Back in the old world it was the kind of thing they’d use to bring down city walls, but that was before they’d come up with stuff like electricity. A handful of it would be enough for a clever person to power Paris for a year. An unscrupulous person could get up to all kinds of fascinating trouble with it. And from the way she was looking at it, I knew she wanted it. She wanted this Phoenix Fire very badly. Which... is why I had created the illusion of some for her.


    [He scoffs.]


    ROBIN: No, of course I didn’t have the real stuff. There’s only about... five handfuls of it left in the world these days, don’t be stupid. No, what I have is a certain... gift. They call it lots of things. Legerdemain. Glamourie. The art. It all comes back to same thing: I can make things look a certain way. Make it so they... tell a little lie to the eyes. All I have to do is keep reminding the objects of their motivation. It’s like...


    [A piano riff.]


    ROBIN: Keeping a song running through your head.


    [We hear it again.]


    ROBIN: As long as you can hold it there, people hear it out in the world.


    [And again.]


    ROBIN: And right now, this old bottle of Kronenbourg I’d found on the street was singing the song of one of the oldest, most powerful magical artifacts in the world. The fact that you can do glamourie is not the sort of thing you advertise if you’re trying to keep a low profile. I’d kept quiet about it while I’d been in Paris, and I didn’t think anyone knew. Sans Reflet certainly didn’t - she hadn’t taken her eyes off the “Phoenix Fire” since I’d put it on the table. She snapped her fingers.


    [Sans Reflet snaps her fingers.]


    ROBIN: And one of the waiters was instantly next to the table.


    [A bottle is uncorked, and its contents are poured.]


    ROBIN: Sans Reflet ordered two more glasses of wine for the table, and some poker chips for her new friend. Well... consider her wowed, I suppose. No going back. Now I just need to win.


    [The sound of the scene fades down.]


    [The ambiance and the music fade back up. A deck of cards is shuffled. Chips are exchanged.]


    ROBIN: So we started playing. Not for the grand prize right away, of course. We needed a bit of time to size each other up. A few light skirmishes before the grand battle. And she was good. Cold, impassive, excellent at a bluff. She didn’t give anything away.


    [Chairs scrape on the floor.]


    ROBIN: There were a few others, too. The Ragtime filled up as it got later, and as a rule, an open chair at a poker table’s there to be filled. People wafted in, then wafted out once they’d run out of money. Pretty much the only person who didn’t play was the blonde man in the suit. He just sat at the bar, watching it all. But really? It was all between me and Sans Reflet. We started with a small blind of a hundred euros. Then five hundred. Then a thousand. Sans Reflet assured me that she knew I was good for it, and I saw no reason to disabuse her of the notion. Besides, it was all smoke anyway. She knew what I needed wasn’t money, and I knew that if I wound up with a debt I couldn’t pay off, I’d be forced to give up the Phoenix Fire. It’s a win-win for her, unless I really managed to pull a rabbit out of my hat. Or...


    [He flips a card. There's a piano riff. It recurs a few times under the following:]


    ROBIN: An ace from up my sleeve. Oh, relax. Of course I was cheating, but I knew what I was doing. Not a lot, not in any obvious ways, and I wasn’t cleaning anyone out. I just... you know, persuaded the occasional eight to look like a Jack for a bit. And if that kept this poor sinner in this game for a little while longer, was it so bad? As soon as the hand’s done...


    [He flips another card. There's a soft woosh.]


    ROBIN: Glamour goes away, Jack goes back to being an eight, I retain my ambitions of not dying, cold, alone, and scared, at the bottom of the Seine. Easy, peasy, bit of a lemon squeezy in my next rum and coke, please.


    [The scene fades down.]


    [It fades back in. It's later.]


    ROBIN: We were going into hour three, and into my third gee and tee when it finally happened. It was just me and Sans Reflet. All the other players were out. Stakes were high... roughly a quarter of a million euro on the table.


    [Poker chips clink.]


    ROBIN: Sans Reflet stared at me for just a moment... then she pulled out some paper and an envelope. A moment later, she tossed it on top of the pile of chips. I didn’t even need her to say anything, I knew what was in there. Safe passage out of Paris. Freedom.


    [He exhales.]


    ROBIN: I bit my lip, and hoped it was too dark for anyone to see how badly I was sweating. My hand shook again as I reached into my pocket and took out the Kronenbourg bottle. By which, of course, I mean the Phoenix Fire.


    [We hear the same piano riff we heard earlier. It repeats under the following:]


    ROBIN: Phoenix Fire. I had to remember, it’s Phoenix Fire. I had to keep that clear. But there it was. We were in it
    now. Winner take all.


    [A series of cards is flipped.]

    ROBIN: There were five cards on the table. Two aces, an eight, a Queen, and a four. I’d picked up a four and a six, and put a glamour on the six to make it into an ace. I’d put another glamour on the top card of the deck before it got dealt out, and... all right, hang on. Because I just felt about two thirds of you all tune out. If you know bugger all about poker, here’s the point. I’ve put glamours on two cards: a six in my hand to make it look like an ace -


    ​[A piano riff.]


    ROBIN: - and a two on the table to make it look like another ace.


    [Another piano riff.]


    ROBIN: That gives me a full house, which is a bloody good hand, all right?


    [We hear the three piano riffs repeat as he enumerates the glamours.]


    ROBIN: Three glamours running simultaneously. Six into an ace. Two into an ace. And of course... old, dirty bottle
    of beer into priceless magical artifact. Just three glamours. [low, under his breath:] Six into an ace, two into an ace, bottle into Phoenix Fire, six into an ace, two into an ace, bottle into Phoenix fire... Normally, three glamours wouldn’t be a problem for me, but... I was tired, and drunk, and scared. Clammy sweat was running all down my back, and I could feel my face twitching. Still... just a moment longer... I just needed to keep these cards up a bit longer... It’s a good hand. It’s a great hand. Should be more than enough to beat whatever's -


    [A card is flipped over.]


    ROBIN: ... Christ. It isn’t. She’s got an ace and an eight. It’s a better hand. Oh God. I have just a second before I need to turn over my cards. One last chance to... ah, screw it. Glamour number four. Beer bottle into Phoenix Fire...


    [Piano riff.]


    ROBIN: Six into an ace...


    [Piano riff.]

    ROBIN: Two into an ace...

    [Piano riff.]

    ROBIN: And... and... four into... a Queen.


    [A card is flipped over, just as a new piano riff plays.]


    ROBIN: For a second I didn’t know if it had worked or not. I didn’t even want to look down at my cards. But then...


    [Cheering breaks out around him.]


    ROBIN: I heard this loud sound all around me, and I realized it was cheering and... Oh thank God. It had worked. The glamour had stuck. I had the better full house. I’d won. I’d won.


    [He laughs.]


    ROBIN: I glanced up at Sans Reflet. She shrugged in this... tant pis sort of a way, and waved me off. Well, the hard part was over. Now I just needed to collect my winnings and...


    [The world around him starts to sound distorted and strange.]


    ROBIN: Oh God, I’m so tired. I - No, just... just hold on a second longer. Just put the things away, and then you can let go. After that you don’t need to constantly be thinking about the beer bottle being Phoenix Fire...


    [Piano riff.]

    ROBIN: The six being an ace...


    [Piano riff.]

    ROBIN: The two being an ace...


    [Piano riff.]


    ROBIN: And... and the four being... a King.


    [Another piano riff... but the last note is a discordant sour note.]


    [Around him there's silence.]


    ROBIN: Wait... that’s not right. Four into... oh God. One look at Sans Reflet was all it took. She’d seen it. She’d caught how Queen had become a King. And if that was the case... Well, kids, if there’s one thing you can say about your old pal Robin, it’s this:


    [There's a crash, objects clatter.]


    ROBIN: He knows when it’s time for a dramatic exit. I flipped the table on Sans Reflet and bolted for the door.


    [Running footsteps.]


    ROBIN: I had her writ. With any luck, it’d be enough to get me - ah bollocks. The specter was suddenly blocking
    the only exit, because of course he was. Damn. I’d have to fight my way out. A tall order, but I remembered there was a fireplace on the far wall. I’m good with flame. Just a little bit of it, I should be able to persuade -


    [There's a cold, frosty sound. Robin groans in pain.]


    ROBIN: And suddenly... I couldn’t move.


    [We start to hear his heartbeat.]


    ROBIN: I was frozen in place, this... horrible, icy feeling climbing up my arms and legs. I felt my lips turning blue, and I knew exactly what was happening... I was good with fire... but Sans Reflet was good with water. So good, in fact, that she could make all the stuff running through my veins hold me in place.


    [Robin groans.]


    ROBIN: This was bad. I could feel my body starting to shut down, and the room swirled around me. I knew I’d be a goner if they got their hands on me. It wasn’t too late. I could still fight this. So long as I didn’t lose consciousness, I could still -


    [There's a blast of cold, followed by silence.]

    ROBIN: By the time I regained consciousness, the specter was just about finished tying me up to a chair.


    [Ropes cinch around Robin.]


    ROBIN: I was gagged, and - judging by the ache on my side - had been kicked quite hard a few times. Still, that was the least of my concerns. I had a sinking feeling I was going to find out what was behind the black door after all...


    [Footsteps approach.]


    ROBIN: Sans Reflet came up, and I realized this might be my last chance to get out of this. The time had come for some of my patented diplomacy.


    [There's a whip-pan sound, followed by a few seconds of Robin desperately pleading, unintelligibly, through a gag. Then, there's another whip-pan sound.]


    ROBIN: This was hampered by, you know, me being gagged. Something told me that Sans Reflet didn’t exactly find herself in a particularly forgiving mood. I think it was the way she said, “I don’t find myself in a particularly forgiving mood, Mr. Fend. I’m afraid you are about to become rather intimately acquainted with what happens to those who come into my establishment with the intent to steal from me.”


    [Sans Reflet snaps her fingers. The chair starts to get dragged across the floor.]


    ROBIN: That’s when the dragging across the floor started, and... well, I’m afraid now it was my turn to give it a bit of the old, “Oh god, please. Don’t let him do this. For God’s sake, do something, ah, ah, ah.” It was about as effective as you’d think. And... well, folks, that was pretty much it. I mean, end of the road, right?


    [A pause.]


    ROBIN: Or it would have been. If not for...


    [An explosion.]


    [The crowd screams and disperses, running every which way.]


    ROBIN: ... well, if not for the way someone blew the front door off the Ragtime.


    [Footsteps pound on the ground.]


    ROBIN: For a moment, I had no idea what the hell was going on. Then I saw the men that were running into the place. All wearing the same dark suit, just like the one that the blonde man at the bar was wearing. I saw him standing up, shouting that everybody needed to stay still, and holding something up to everyone. He was Blackstar. They all were. Oh God... this was a raid. Sans Reflet was a bad lady, but even she knew better than to pick a fight with the Blackstar. She put up her hands, quietly gave herself over, and no, no, I’m just kidding, she tried to shoot her way out.


    [Another blast of cold air.]


    ROBIN: And just like that... the place broke into chaos.


    [We hear various destructive spells and the damage they do to the space around the characters.]


    ROBIN: Spells were getting thrown left and right - fire, ice, lightning, everything. Sans Reflet froze three of the
    Blackstar agents to the ground with a flick of her wrist. The Specter was hurling lightning bolts at two others, who were taking cover behind the piano.


    [A discordant music note as the piano is blasted apart.]


    ROBIN: The three harpies screamed as one of the chandeliers broke apart and fell on top of them.


    [Glass shatters.]


    ROBIN: Oooh, nasty... And I... well, I was still a little tied up at the moment. I’d kind of... been dropped when the fight started, and I didn’t exactly -


    [A blast shoots past him.]


    ROBIN: Wa-hey! Hey! Hey! Watch your aim! Semi-innocent bystander here, I don’t -


    [A blast of fire shoots past him.]


    ROBIN: Whoa-ho! Hey! I said hey! That was too close! Just another millimeter and that fire would... would have...


    [There's a bit of burning around him.]


    ROBIN: Well, it’s like I said: I’m very good with fire. All it took was a bit of wriggling to finally get that damn gag off, and then - Voluterno.


    [The last word there brims with power. There's a burst of fire around him.]


    ROBIN: Easy enough to burn the ropes off, once I had a bit of flame on hand. Twenty seconds later, I was free. Now I could join the fight and -


    [There's a blast. Someone screams.]




    ROBIN: Now I could leave. Fortunately...


    [A thud.]


    ROBIN:... I got just the thing I needed to do that. One of the Blackstar goons fell, unconscious, right next to where I was. I pulled him away from the fire... and nicked his uniform jacket. Don’t judge me! Just because a ton of people are going to die in this fight, doesn’t mean I have to, does it?


    [Footsteps as he runs towards the door.]


    ROBIN: I ran out to what was left of the front door. Yelled something about getting reinforcement and made a break for it.


    [He starts to go up the stairs. We hear burning.]


    ROBIN: The stairs were a little on fire, but I just asked the flames if they’d get out of the way for a second. They very kindly obliged.


    [He exits. We follow him onto the street, hearing the ambiance of the alleyway.]


    ROBIN: And just like that... I was out. I’d made it. I was free. I was -


    [There's running behind him. The sound of an impact. Robin groans, and falls to the ground.]


    ROBIN: Aaaand yep. I was being tackled by the blonde Blackstar agent from the bar. He got me on the ground, and unless I’m very much mistaken -


    [There's a metallic click.]


    ROBIN: No, not mistaken, those are the handcuffs. Oh, he said something about how good it was of me to introduce myself earlier this evening, and to provide such a compelling distraction while his boys moved into position, and... well, I’ll be honest, I tuned out most of it. At least... until he mentioned how he’s going to need me to come back with them to their headquarters. Just to... answer some questions. As lies go, it was pretty shameless. But well... just like that...


    [He groans.]


    ROBIN: I guess I am getting out of Paris after all. Hooray.


    [Robin and the Blackstar agent start walking down the street.]


    [Slowly, the sound of their foosteps fades and transitions to the Unseen Credits music.]


    Announcer: This has been UNSEEN, by Long Story Short Productions, based on an original idea by Gabriel Urbina, with additional conceptual design work by Sarah Shachat. Today’s episode was written by Gabriel Urbina and directed by Zach Valenti, with script editing by David K. Barnes. It starred Tom Crowley as Robin Fend. Original Music by Alan Rodi, and also featuring music by Bob Hart, T. Bless and the Professionals, Wesly Thomas, Esteban Maxera Cuarteto, and Jazz Art Quarter, with sound design by Zach Valenti. UNSEEN is produced by Sarah Shachat, Zach Valenti, and Gabriel Urbina, along with Angel Acevedo, Jenn Schneider, and Amy Tanguay. For more information on the Unseen World, please visit Unseen.Show. Thank you for listening.


    [Music fades out.]


    End of Episode.