Why, hello everybody. It seems that even though school is about to end I am still an ever devoted Phan. I came up with this story a couple years ago and never thought to put it up, but thanks to a movie I started to recently become infatuated with I figured out what I can do with the plot. In my polls, 'dark plot' and '1870 time period' won out and I'm using my other movie for the darker scenes. Don't fret about that though; the story will only have a few dark chapters. I'm sure once everyone has figured out what movie I am using as filler a hundred dark and or depressing thoughts over how this will end will swirl through your brain, but remember, it's me guys. I'm an E/C fan all the way, and I would never EVER kill Erik...or really hurt Christine.

I'm sure if you're reading this then you've read my summery and there is no use repeating it so, Disclaimer: I own nothing POTO or VfV.

Ideas are Bullet Proof

It was another start to a dreary night, just like the rest. Cold, dark, and gloomy; the usual streets of Paris at night. While day was only slightly better, the night was deadly. With demons and shadows that skulk about unchecked. Only creatures like them, such as myself, could survive these streets on a daily basis, but any other poor unfortunate souls, who would wander into their back alley lairs at night, would surely never be seen again. Except, maybe in the morning paper's obituary column.

I never have to worry about that though, if any demon tries to tangle with me, my 'magical lasso,' will surely take care of them. It's strange though, I never pictured myself as who I am today. I never wanted to hurt anybody in my life, I just wanted to be loved, or at least be treated like a common human being. But no, that part of me that cried out for acceptance and affection all those years ago was a child's hope, a hope that has long been extinguished and dead. I am not alive, I am not even human. I am an idea.

Don't you see? An idea does not bleed, it cannot feel pain, and above all...it does not love. It cannot be loved in return either. After nearly nineteen years of life, not even being loved by one's own mother, these truths have lead me to believe that this is what I am, and I have accepted it.

Now I bring you back to the present, the sun is nearly done setting and I am standing on top of a roof of a normal house, in a seemingly quiet neighborhood. But wait, there it is. The quiet and soft flow of a melody being played on an early modeled, Strainer violin. The strings have been tightened to perfection and the sound just floats through the air like a delicate puff of smoke. My feet are carrying me towards the sound before my brain has told them to, but I couldn't care less.

I have been trying to discover the source of this wondrous playing for over a month now, and every time I go to hear it, it stops. The person never begins in the same location and they never end in the same location either. I am so desperate to discover who the wonderful player is that I have resigned myself to standing on random rooftops and waiting for hours upon hours during sunset everyday to hear a single note, anything, then taking off in a vicious sprint towards it.

Tonight, the sound was closer and my feet were going faster than ever, and I knew this was the night. I made a final leap then grabbed onto a sturdy gutter and silently dropped to the ground in a single fluid motion. I quickly surveyed my surroundings for any danger, six people in total. A couple with a baby held in the mother's arms, two young boys sitting on the ground a little ways away, and the violinist who was entertaining these people. I crouched low, staying hidden in the shadows, observing the magnificent player.

He seemed to be a little past his prime, but still young. He had his eyes closed as he played, letting the music wash over him, the mark of a true musician. His hair was a shaggy black with a few wisps of grey to reveal his age, he was tall but not an overly tall man, and he had stubble on his chin that only accentuated his age.

Yes, he was an average man, but he did have a gift for music. I stayed and listened till the last note died out. The other people had come and gone, occasionally tossing in a coin or two for his performance, and now he was all alone. He looked around then carefully returned his violin to its case. He sat down on a nearby wooden crate, turning his head up to look at the sky, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

I don't know why I had stayed as long as I did, but in that moment I realized I had made a grave error in my observations. There were not six people to begin with, there were seven. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned violently, nearly giving myself whiplash in the process. Before me stood a small boy, no more than eight or nine perhaps, with big brown eyes. With me crouching he came to eye level, but I was sure if I were standing I'd be at least a head taller, if not two. He had a brown cloak on that was a little big on him, with a hat on top of his head. He had stringy brown hair poking out of the hat that almost looked...curled. But I didn't focus on this, I focused on the fact that I hadn't noticed him before this, and the fact I hadn't heard him approach me.

He didn't even flinch when I turned around, and he stared me right in the eye. He didn't even glance at my mask, he just smiled, "Did you enjoy my father's playing?"

I stared at him in utter shock, too shocked to speak, and simply nodded. His smile became even wider, revealing the fact he had recently lost two, and probably the last, of his baby teeth. One on the top left and one on the bottom right of his mouth. It was almost...cute.

"That's good," he said. "If you want to hear him again we'll be two blocks away. Papa never plays in the same place twice because he wants to...to...advertise, yes that's it. He says that if he wants to become a great musician all he has to do is play all over and news of him will spread by word of mouth."

I couldn't stop staring at the boy. He was talking to a man clothed in all black, hiding behind a corner, and wearing a mask. Why was he not afraid? He just shook his head, the smile never fading from his face, "Well, I see that you aren't going to speak, so I'll take my leave now. Have a pleasant night."

The boy headed towards his father, but stopped abruptly, and turned back in my direction, "By the way, you're quite the acrobat." At my puzzled expression the boy pointed up, "I saw you earlier, and I've seen you on the rooftops before. That's why I decided to talk to you, you must really like music if you've been searching for papa as long as you have. Even though you don't talk I like you, you seem nice. Well, good-bye."

I raised my hand in a sign of farewell and faded into the shadows, but I did not leave. I saw the boy run over to his father and hug him, his father smiled at him, "Chris, there you are. Where have you been?"

'Chris' smiled and turned back in my direction, "I was..." he trailed off and looked upset when he didn't see me then continued, "I was playing with a stray cat, but he isn't there anymore."

The man frowned, "I'm sorry child, but not to worry. I collected a lot of money tonight, and I think we can go to that little cafe you love so much for breakfast in the morning."

The boy let out a cry of delight then hugged his father, "Thank you, papa! Are you sure though? You worked really hard for that money, and I would hate for you to spend all of it just for a small trip to a cafe."

The man hugged the boy once again, "You are the one thing I treasure most in this world, I don't care how hard I have to work as long as you never lose that bright smile of yours."

The man stood and picked up his son, carrying him away as they returned to their home. Strange, I've never seen a family so happy living in squalor like this. Two blocks away tomorrow, eh?

(Two weeks later)

I don't know why I kept returning every evening to listen to this man, who I discovered was named Gustave Daae. Or why I continued to talk to his child, I even made it a point to seek him out on occasions when I couldn't spot him immediately. I was developing a terribly close bond with this man and his son, a bond I knew I was going to have to break. One night in particular though, the night I decided was my final night there, I noticed something wrong.

There was a large crowd when Gustave was playing, and at the end of his performance I was sure that he had collected enough money to feed his small family for an entire week. Money like that was sure to draw attention, and not the kind Gustave wanted. Stragglers that hid in the shadows afterwards were sure signs of that, this isn't good.

I waved good-bye to Chris, silently, as I always did, and then followed them to make sure they returned home safely. I had learned in the past week that they were poor as dirt, but Gustave inherited a small flat that served as their home from his deceased parents. It was fairly close to their location tonight, but I wanted to make sure.

I shadowed the two on the rooftops and everything seemed quiet; then it happened. A shadow raised its fist and brought it down on Gustave's head. The man dropped his cup of money as he was pulled to the side and held back. His son immediately scrambled to pick up the money but was pulled back by the collar.

One of the shadows hissed, "No you don't boy, give us the money."

Chris thrashed in the man's grasp but in his haste to get away his hat fell off and his- no, not his, her hair fell down. The man chuckled darkly, "Look here boys, it seems we have a young lady here. Well what's it gonna be missy? You wanna give us the money, or have us get it through other means?"

The girl bit his hand and as soon as he released her she spit on his shoe and said, "Don't touch me! Leave us alone!"

The man shook his hand a couple of times with a toxic grin that turned the girl ghost white, "You're going to regret doin' that."

The girl went to run but the man soon had her up against the wall with his hand around her neck. Gustave struggled with new fervor, but four men were holding him and no amount of struggling was going to free him. The girl pulled against the man's beefy hand and cried, "Let me go, take the money. Please just let my papa and I go!"

The man chuckled darkly, and that was it for me. "Let. Her. Go."

All seven people turned in my direction, the one holding the girl spat, "Go away ya freak, we're busy here."

I saw red, if it wasn't bad enough he was threatening Gustave and his daughter, he had the audacity to call me..."Let me re-phrase that. Let her go, and run, because you will not want to be here when I lose my temper."

The man and his cronies all began to laugh, then the man holding the girl said, "Your temper? What ya gonna do? There's five against one, and I'm not 'fraid of you, ya freak."

"You should be," I hissed under my breath as I struck. My Punjab lasso was around the man's neck in an instant, and when that happened the girl was dropped to the ground and she quickly put some much needed distance between us. The man struggled against me and when his cronies figured out that he wasn't going to escape, they immediately let go of Gustave and focused their attention on me.

Gustave grabbed his daughter and disappeared somewhere in the shadows. I returned my attention to my attackers. I had one man gasping for breath in my hold, while the other four had switch blades in their hands surrounding me. One was directly behind me, one to my right, another to my left, and the final one directly in front of me. They all had murder gleaming in their eyes, but then again, so did I.

The one directly in front of me charged, followed by the man to my right. I quickly recovered the knife from the one in front of me, kicked him back with my foot, then took the knife and stabbed the one to my right in the shoulder. The one to my right cried out in pain and when he bent his head slightly I clubbed him with my fist, successfully knocking him unconscious. By this time, the one in front of me was back to his feet, and as he tried to knock me to the ground I spun with my cape, confusing him enough to catch him off balance then ram his head into the wall. Two down, two to go.

The other two came at me at the same time, leaving me no choice but to toss the beefy man to the ground and deal with them. One jumped on my back, trying to hold me while the other went to stab me, but I spun around and the man plunged his blade into his comrade's back. I heard him scream in pain, then threw him off my back where he crumpled to the ground. The last man backed away from me, but I wasn't going to let him off that easy.

He realized this as well and charged one final time before I grabbed him by his arm twisted it and spun him around. He thrashed and tried to head butt me a couple of times, but I put my foot in front of his and pushed with all my might. The man toppled forward then flipped on his back, he looked dazed for a moment, but when his eyes focused then gazed up at me a flicker of fear appeared, and then I gave one good hard kick to his head and his eyes closed. Blood trickled out of his nose; I guess I had broken it. Good.

I turned around and my Punjab lasso was on the ground, I walked over and picked it up. He got away. My grip tightened on the lasso when this realization crossed my mind and I could have spit fire, if it wasn't for the quiet question that reached my ears, "Who are you?"

I turned and there stood Gustave, holding his daughter in his arms. She was holding on to his neck tightly, but she had that ever warm smile on her face. Now that her hair was down she looked much older, around eleven or twelve, although her height and girth argued otherwise. She was such a petite thing.

"Who?" I asked. "Who is but the form, following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask."

"I can see that." Gustave said, staring at me curiously.

"Of course you can, I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is."

Once more Gustave looked confused, and his daughter turned her head slightly in wonderment.

I chuckled, "But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace soubriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona."

I spread my arms out wide, letting my cape spread in a grand gesture, "Voila! In view humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the "vox populi" now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin, vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition!"

Gustave's mouth was hung open as if he wanted to say something but didn't know where to start. I laughed then bowed, "Verily this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you."

Gustave masked his confusion then chuckled nervously, nodding his head, "N-nice to meet you too."

His daughter looked just as confused as Gustave was a moment ago then asked, "Are you like a crazy person?"

I heard Gustave whisper something, her name, in a scolding tone, but I did not catch it. I simply laughed, "I am quite sure I have been called so before, but to whom might I ask am I speaking?"

The girl looked to her father and he nodded once. She looked down and in a timid voice said, "I'm Christine."

"Christine," I said, trying the name out. "Chris-tine. Of course you are."

Gustave looked puzzled again, "What do you mean?"

I shook my head, "I simply meant that of course if she was 'Chris' as a boy, surely as a girl her name would be 'Christine.'"

Gustave held his daughter a little tighter at this, "How did you know her name was 'Chris' before?"

Before I had a chance to answer Christine giggled nervously, "Um, papa, meet uh, the stray cat."

Gustave's eyes widened as this new information was revealed. "Christine! This is the stray cat you have been 'playing' with?"

Christine shrank away a bit at being scolded but I held up my hand, "Have no fear sir, I have not, nor would I ever, wish to harm your daughter in any way, shape, or form."

"Ah." Gustave said as he shifted Christine in his arms then stuck out his hand, "Well, Gustave Daae, nice to meet you sir; and what may I call you?"

I shook his hand and was struck dumb with the question, I didn't plan on giving my name to him and I couldn't think of something to say. Thankfully, Christine answered for me, "He doesn't talk about himself papa, he hasn't even told me. Let's just call him...Black Angel or Monsieur Black for short."

Both myself and Gustave looked at Christine curiously. She just smiled even brighter, "Well, all he wears is black and he saved us from those terrible men, like a Guardian Angel. So why not?"

I chuckled, "I am by no means an Angel, but I find I like the name, 'Monsieur Black'. As you have said, Christine, why not?"

Gustave sighed with a shake of his head, "You encourage her sir, but if that is what you wish us to call you, then so be it. Now, our house is just down the block. Why not come in for some warm soup. It'll only take a minute to whip up."

I was about to decline with great fervor, but Christine cried, "Oh, please Monsieur Black! Please! It's the least we could do since you saved us! Please, for me?"

I stared at her big brown eyes and I knew, I was sunk. I nodded, "Very well."

Christine beamed and her father set her down, grasping her hand as we all walked to their home.

(After Dinner)

Christine was in bed now and Gustave and I had been discussing music for over an hour. Finally I stood, prepared to leave and say what I had to say, "Your daughter will not see me anymore; I just thought you should know that. I am returning to my home, far away from here, where I belong."

Gustave's happy attitude evaporated in that moment and he held himself stiffer than before, sitting up straighter in his chair, "Oh. If I may inquire, why did you stay as long as you did?"

I shrugged, "I'm not quite sure, really. The music I guess, it spoke to me. Although, the company was a nice change of pace as well. Your daughter is quite the socialite."

Gustave tilted his head back and began to rub his eyes, "That she is, it worries me of how trusting she is. Thank God this time she trusted someone good, and honorable."

I ducked my head at this, "I am by no means good or honorable sir. I wear a bloody mask for Christ's sake!"

Gustave chuckled and I gritted my teeth, "What?"

He covered his mouth and said, "I'm sorry, it's just, just because you wear a mask and...well I will admit have killed before, does not mean that you are not good or honorable. You saved not only my life tonight, but my daughter's life as well, and I thank you for that. You are welcome here or around my daughter anytime you wish."

Gustave paused then said, "If I know you like I think I do however, you are serious about leaving. Knowing this, I believe I will start carrying a fire weapon with me at all times, so I can better protect Christine and myself. I wish you a long and happy life, my friend."

Gustave held his hand out once more and I shook it. With a small 'farewell' I bowed and quickly exited the small flat. Strange, this may be the first time I have ever felt truly accepted. It was nice, but I wasn't going to get used to it. I was going to leave them be and never return...but there is one more small thing I could, and had to do for them.

I returned to my 'home' under the Opera Populaire and began writing immediately,

Dear Monsieur Lefevere,

I have recently discovered a great musical talent in the slums of Paris. While I know that the Populaire orchestra is full, I know as well that you have other connections high up in the music industry, and I have a small request of you. There is a man, named Gustave Daae; I would like you to telegram your old colleague Monsiuer Baudin then ask him to audition this man and see if he is not worthy of his sponsorship. I promise you it will be worth his while should he accept, and if you do not believe me when I say this than I shall wager two months of my salary on it. I am that confidant this man will be well known by Paris before the year is up.

Your Obedient Servant,

O.G.

So, that is chapter one. I hope you guys like it, and I will NOT be updating every Friday until this story has at least 5 reviews (and I have at least two more chapters written) Oh! I'm also holding a contest! The first person to guess my movie I mixed in here will get a sneak peek of the next chapter, and I gave you guys TONS of hints so this should be easy. FantomPhan33, sorry but I already told you so you can't play, but since you are helping me with my summery you might get a sneak peek anyway. Ha ha, okay everybody, PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! 8D