Disclaimer: Must I say this again? If I own the Phantom of the Opera,
then you're an alien in a green helmet with a funny nasal voice and a
dislike of talking gray rabbits. No ka-booms please, Marvin.
A/N: I did try to research this one. Honestly, I know that the Rue de Rivoli comes up to the Place de l'Opera from the south and runs along the outside of the Tuileries and down to the Seine for a way (or at least, it did on the maps of 1860's Paris). For the life of me, I cannot find the Rue Scribe, so I'm arbitrarily putting it on the north side for purposes of this story. Don't complain, I'm using artistic license again! ::drags out a blank sheet of paper and waves it around::
## Nadir's thoughts ##
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Friends and Nemeses" by AngelCeleste85
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ch. 1 - Notice
He looked up at the building before him, feeling a little bit of awe in spite of himself.
Nadir Khan was one of the few people who had seen this building long before the first shovel had turned the first earth in its construction. He remembered seeing the blueprints that his old nemesis had drawn, and the memory made him smile.
"You arrogant son of a three-headed goat, you managed it after all." the daroga said slowly to himself, but addressing the Opera's unseen architect with a smile hidden in his beard. ## Did you really think that the news of a building like this would not get back to Persia? He would not tolerate such a slap in the face. If I know you correctly, the outside is rather drab, but the inside will be as lavish as anything the khanum could dream of. ##
He shook his head and smiled. ## But I have to hand it to you, my old friend, my old nemesis, you have never been anything less than a genius. Too smart for your own good, if you ask me, though you never do. You would have stayed out of so much more trouble if you had, but the Shah does not enjoy being made a fool of. I wish it could be otherwise, my old friend. ##
The Chief of Secret Police to the Shah of Persia moved forward through the thin crowds in the Place de l'Opera towards the broad, squat building that towered over him, ignoring the shrieks behind him of a woman at the flower stand who apparently had just been robbed. Even if it were Persia, he was not sure he would have investigated. Not right now, anyway, and besides, a street rat would be incredibly difficult for him to track down and quite unproductive. No, leave it to the local excuse for police.
## We have much to speak of while I bring you back to Persia. I would very much like to know how you managed to build your own palace in the middle of Paris, and with the government's money and full backing. ##
Upon reaching the front steps of the great Opera House, Nadir paused. ## No, I do not think I will go that way just yet. If I remember correctly, old friend, you do have a weakness: you always leave an escape route if there is any way to manage it. In this city, I would say on the north side, where you can leave most easily without being seen. ##
It wasn't difficult to find the door that opened out onto the street at ground level from the side. Nadir noted the street – the Rue Scribe. Writer Street. ## My friend, you grow predictable in your old age. You seem like to make this too easy for me. ##
Satisfied, the Daroga took a careful note of the few shadows cast by the noontime sun. It wasn't likely, but he nodded to the deepest ones he could find anyway and touched his hat in the European way. ## Darius had better find accommodations in this city soon, ## he thought as he went back to the main entrance and waited patiently for his servant.
Above and behind him, a black shadow moved off of the roof, unseen. Only the whisk of a long, heavy cloak caught in the breeze of a swift turn caught the eyes of two street urchins across the plaza who, caught up in their daily business despite the continued protests of the woman at the flower stand, took no further notice of the pigeons on the roof of the Opera.
~*~*~*~
The urchins and the screaming woman at the flower stand are cameo appearances – for now. They may or may not stay that way. Hope you like this: feed me?
AC
A/N: I did try to research this one. Honestly, I know that the Rue de Rivoli comes up to the Place de l'Opera from the south and runs along the outside of the Tuileries and down to the Seine for a way (or at least, it did on the maps of 1860's Paris). For the life of me, I cannot find the Rue Scribe, so I'm arbitrarily putting it on the north side for purposes of this story. Don't complain, I'm using artistic license again! ::drags out a blank sheet of paper and waves it around::
## Nadir's thoughts ##
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Friends and Nemeses" by AngelCeleste85
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ch. 1 - Notice
He looked up at the building before him, feeling a little bit of awe in spite of himself.
Nadir Khan was one of the few people who had seen this building long before the first shovel had turned the first earth in its construction. He remembered seeing the blueprints that his old nemesis had drawn, and the memory made him smile.
"You arrogant son of a three-headed goat, you managed it after all." the daroga said slowly to himself, but addressing the Opera's unseen architect with a smile hidden in his beard. ## Did you really think that the news of a building like this would not get back to Persia? He would not tolerate such a slap in the face. If I know you correctly, the outside is rather drab, but the inside will be as lavish as anything the khanum could dream of. ##
He shook his head and smiled. ## But I have to hand it to you, my old friend, my old nemesis, you have never been anything less than a genius. Too smart for your own good, if you ask me, though you never do. You would have stayed out of so much more trouble if you had, but the Shah does not enjoy being made a fool of. I wish it could be otherwise, my old friend. ##
The Chief of Secret Police to the Shah of Persia moved forward through the thin crowds in the Place de l'Opera towards the broad, squat building that towered over him, ignoring the shrieks behind him of a woman at the flower stand who apparently had just been robbed. Even if it were Persia, he was not sure he would have investigated. Not right now, anyway, and besides, a street rat would be incredibly difficult for him to track down and quite unproductive. No, leave it to the local excuse for police.
## We have much to speak of while I bring you back to Persia. I would very much like to know how you managed to build your own palace in the middle of Paris, and with the government's money and full backing. ##
Upon reaching the front steps of the great Opera House, Nadir paused. ## No, I do not think I will go that way just yet. If I remember correctly, old friend, you do have a weakness: you always leave an escape route if there is any way to manage it. In this city, I would say on the north side, where you can leave most easily without being seen. ##
It wasn't difficult to find the door that opened out onto the street at ground level from the side. Nadir noted the street – the Rue Scribe. Writer Street. ## My friend, you grow predictable in your old age. You seem like to make this too easy for me. ##
Satisfied, the Daroga took a careful note of the few shadows cast by the noontime sun. It wasn't likely, but he nodded to the deepest ones he could find anyway and touched his hat in the European way. ## Darius had better find accommodations in this city soon, ## he thought as he went back to the main entrance and waited patiently for his servant.
Above and behind him, a black shadow moved off of the roof, unseen. Only the whisk of a long, heavy cloak caught in the breeze of a swift turn caught the eyes of two street urchins across the plaza who, caught up in their daily business despite the continued protests of the woman at the flower stand, took no further notice of the pigeons on the roof of the Opera.
~*~*~*~
The urchins and the screaming woman at the flower stand are cameo appearances – for now. They may or may not stay that way. Hope you like this: feed me?
AC