Matrix Kyma’s Magic Show
Matrix Kyma was perfectly dressed for the stage. With the appearance of a cosmic Joker, he easily held the audience’s attention with the fancy clothes and the funky hat he donned for the evening. Appearing like an oft-overlooked character whom he adored dearly, the Joker found on playing cards, he was ready to perform his grand illusions for the residents–and visitors–of the Kingdom.
He had stood backstage, aiding the first performer with his own unique abilities, to keep the arena from collapsing in on itself, helping him in preventing the unwanted absorption of the very spectators, himself and their surroundings into a vortex, which then would have certainly created a blackhole that spelled chaos and disaster.
With that taken care of, while they removed the unconscious Lorenzo from stage and cleaned up the expelled contents of his digestive chambers, Matrix looked in the vanity mirror in the dressing room and made sure his remarkable appearance–black lined, bright opal blue eyes and black tinted lips, hands encased in black leather gloves, his hair fluffy and as gravity-defying as ever–was ready for the show. His outfit itself was marvellous, made out of multiple layers of black and blue, prepared for a spectacle that would dazzle, amaze and bewilder.
He wasted not a second as his turn came, the stage set up for his peculiar talent. Peculiar, simply because of his nature; a superhuman that relied heavily on science. However, what the world lacked in knowledge concerning this one odd being was that he had grown up to adore magic, the breathtaking qualities of extremely well-honed sleight of hand, the shock and delight that lit up the expectant, oft-suspicious gazes and faces of the audience. The simple matter of showmanship that came with being an illusionist excited him, especially as he was one to shine in the spotlight. He loved the techniques as much as he loved the reactions they received.
Stepping out from the curtains with a dramatic flourish, arms spreading like wings as he pushed aside the red velvet, a grin stuck to his features as he appeared to make eye contact with each and every member of the audience, simultaneously. The curtains fell back to their resting positions behind him as he, with a single sweep of his leather-booted feet, reached the centre of the stage. He alone was dazzling.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” He exclaimed, his voice that of a true performer, reaching the odd corners of the hall and echoing back to ascertain all had heard.
“I believe you’re wondering what my talent is, with all these contraptions set up and whatnot,” he spoke as he gestured towards a rectangular object half a foot taller than himself, the item itself hidden from view by a generously draped, black material. His other hand guided attention towards a setup on his left–the audience’s right–a simple, wooden table that appeared perfectly normal.
Without warning, as his hands returned to his centre and crisscrossed before his chest, seemingly out of thin air, a flapping sound occurred as a simple, small piece of cloth made its appearance between his fingers. He stilled completely, bringing the square fabric to his other, open palm. Removing it revealed what appeared to be a small black bird at first glimpse, however as his hand rotated to the side, it was clear that what was perched atop his hand was a majestic raven, surprisingly large to those who might have never come near such a bird. The entire first trick took only a few, fluid seconds to carry out.
With an alluring, purr-like whisper leaving his charcoal lips, accentuated in enchanting effect by his sly gaze and a slight bow at the waist, he spoke what many might have already concluded, “It’s… Magic.”
A wink directed at the pale king seemed to send the raven towards him, the avian perching lightly on Lasnight’s shoulder, perfectly balanced and at ease.
As that took place, the bird catching the attention of the audience, the magician himself had abruptly vanished, nowhere to be seen upon the stage. As this confusing occurrence took place, a small explosion of blue and violet smoke surrounded the first, larger contraption and expanded along and away from the stage. While it reached the ceiling, the spectators would be allowed a clear view of the now visible, rectangular, water-filled glass tank, with the fabric that had been covering it disposed of entirely. In the water was their performer, a pair of handcuffs clearly locked around his wrists. With a smirk that whispered mystery and knowledge, never leaving his lips, the magician focused his gaze on his crowd as he began trying to escape a high possibility of drowning.
With nearly palpable tension and a timer in the shape of a large clock hovering above the tank, ticking away seconds and microseconds–5:56, 10:34, 20:44, 30:23–the rather confident Matrix appeared momentarily panicked. It could have roused an audience member to stand and attempt to help as he nearly completed a minute underwater. Right at the 59:58 mark, a heavy sheet of white descended upon the glass. The timer read 60:00 before the sheet fell off, revealing the absence of Matrix. As the crowd would begin to search for him, a slightly damp, gloved hand offered a perching spot for the raven, the illusionist retrieving his pet from Lasnight, from behind.
“I’ll take this from you,” he said loudly, to catch everyone’s attention.
Bowing to any applause as he returned to the stage, he stood behind the table. With three loud knocks on the wooden surface, his hand flew up at the third, fingers curled, pulling a large bird cage with it somehow straight out of the wood and placing it right on the table. The raven willingly stepped into the cage, and with another piece of navy blue fabric it was stolen from view. Perhaps to everyone’s shock, both of his hands crushed the iron structure flat. Retrieving the cloth from the now apparently empty table and draping it over his closed fist, a magical gesture gracefully done with his other hand, he removed it to reveal a bottle of red wine. The music chosen for the show fit the moments perfectly.
He tossed it up in the air, allowing him mere seconds to conjure up a box of matches after a quick clap of his palms. The scent of fire and flint permeated the room as he lit a match, and just as the bottle finally seemed to obey the laws of physics once more, he brought the flame to it, and in a wild blaze it disappeared into smoke… Which rose to the ceiling and formed crimson tinted, thick clouds. A flourished flick of his wrists brought two wine goblets into his grip, and as the clouds began to rain, he filled them up with the alcoholic beverage. Oddly enough, the downpour came down only in those two spots. When he moved the goblets left and right, the crimson streams obediently–and perhaps inexplicably–followed.
Goblets filled and clouds gone, he offered each one to the nearest two spectators and stepped back, promising them the wine was fine to drink and that it tasted marvellous.
And then he announced it. It was time for his final act. He only gave away one thing. They were going to be amazed.
With the table and tank swiftly removed by backstage workers, he returned to the centre of the stage and swiped his right hand along his left arm, a dark cape appearing onto his shoulders from what seemed like thin air. He had already air dried from the water by then.
Wrapping the cape around himself, his arms embracing his chest, head bowing down, his hat obstructing his face from view, the cape spread out once more and fell to the floor along with the hat, with what could have been twenty bats flying towards the corners of the room, Matrix gone from the stage. With the bats remaining in place, silence fell over the room, not a single stir made. The spotlight searched for the magician for a few seconds, before it finally returned to the red velvet curtains, which had stirred slightly.
With dignified simplicity, the performer, hatless and capeless, stepped out from behind the curtains and bowed, placing the hat onto his head once more as he stood upright again, his other hand subtly returning the cape to his shoulders. After a round of applause from the spectators and a grandiose thanks from Matrix, he left the stage, but his bats remained where they were.
