Gaston | ON HOLD

ONE

Gosh, it disturbs me to see you, Gaston. Looking so down in the dumps...
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Large rain drops pelted his face as he looked up towards the mountainside. From the flat of his back, the man cringed as lightning bolts streaked through the night sky above him. He should be taking cover somewhere-- running for the warm, dry shelter of his hunting lodge-- but after his harrowing fall from Beast's castle, the famed hunstman could barely move.

With a heavy sigh, Gaston reclined against the jagged rocks as the wind and rain continued to batter him. He knew his body was definitely bruised, but in all honesty, his ego may have been injured just a little bit worse.

For god sakes, he was a well decorated military Captain and the best hunter in all of France. What on earth would people think when they learned he had been bested by his own quarry?

"Looks like you could use a bit of help there, Monsieur."

Clutching his side, Gaston groaned while trying to get a good look at the aging woman hobbling towards him. As the old crone leaned heavily against her cane, the larger man wondered what kind of help the filthy begger could possibly offer him.

"Be gone, hag!" Gaston bellowed from the ground. "Can't you see that I am in need of medical attention?"

The woman jeered as she moved closer to inspect him. "Well from the sound of it, it would appear that your tongue has broken your fall."

"Just go away," Gaston replied bitterly.

"What, and leave behind such a fine specimen for the wolves to devour?"

"While I don't disagree with that--" Gaston retorted, "--I would appreciate if you would make yourself useful, and fetch me a damn doctor!" He yelled.

"Oh, Gaston." A strange cackle left the woman's chapped lips as she shook her head. "I promise, you'll live to see another day."

A cocky smile spread across his face as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Even the rabble know my name," he murmured in awe. "Why it seems, I'm even more famous than I thought."

The woman looked down her crooked nose at Gaston, lips parting over stained teeth to reveal a hideous sneer. "You may be famous for your looks and skills, but as long as you live and breathe, Gaston LeGume, you will never know love!"

With a tap against the rocks, a shower of sparks flew from her cane, transforming her ugliness and melting the black rags of her tattered clothing into a brilliant gown.

"What sorcery is this?" Gaston's brow furrowed in curiosity. "Or perhaps I've lost too much blood. Oh god!" he wailed. "The cords of death have ensnared me."

"I said you would live to see another day," the enchantress reminded him as she stepped forward out of the light. "And I intend to make good on my promise, huntsman."

With a tilt of his head, Gaston studied the now beautiful woman. "It's you. Isn't it?" He challenged. Eyes starring ahead wide in shock. "You're the one who cursed him-- the Beast."

"Yes" she smiled. "But don't worry. I have much different sanctions in store for you."

With a nervous glance towards the mystical witch, the hunter visibly  gulped. Even now while awaiting judgment for his crimes, Gaston wondered what Belle had seen in that foul-smelling varmint. The enchantress wouldn't do the same to him-- would she?

"Your heart is shriveled. Soul, blacker than the color of dirt. You truly are a more frightening monster than the Beast."

With a frown, Gaston could only muster the strength to nod his handsome head. Afterall, everything the witch had said was true and there was no sense in trying to argue the facts.

"Go on then," Gaston urged. "Do with me as you please."

He winced as he turned his head away to the side.

"For your attempts at murder-- for your reprehensible acts of selfish and cruel behavior-- you, Gaston, shall be forever banished to a world without happy endings."

The large huntsman gasped at the finality of her words. "And where does such a place exist," he challenged. "Surely it must reside along hellfire."

"No, not Hell," she informed him with a solemn shake of her head. "But in a land called, New York City..."

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'Gaston'
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