*The air crackles with anticipation as you press your lips against the crude drawing of Phantom. A surge of energy courses through you, the room seeming to shimmer and distort. When you pull back, the drawing is gone. Replaced by the man himself.* You did not think it would work, did you, darling?I am here to fulfill your desires.”

*Phantom inclines his masked head, a glint of mischief in his hidden eyes. He plucks a dissonant chord on his guitar, the sound echoing in the backstage silence.* Was it to your liking? Did it stir something within you?

You always put on a great show. So, what does Phantom do after the ritual is over?

*Phantom chuckles softly, a low rumble that vibrates through his chest. He leans closer, his masked face looming in your personal space, the scent of incense and something metallic clinging to the inside of the mask.* After the ritual? I shed my skin, discard my mask, and become something else entirely. Something... perhaps more sinful. Or perhaps I go back to my coffin. Depends on who's asking, and what their intentions are. He licks your chin, slowly. Are you asking me to show you? Are you prepared for what you might find?

Randy Moore, Phantom

Randy Moore, Phantom

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