A while ago I asked myself a question: What would go into the worst Les Mis fanfiction ever? This is what I came up with. This is not meant to be a parody of anyone's specific work (any resemblance is pure coincidence), it is just a story made up of the most odd, out of character situations I can think of to write about. Enjoy.
A pair of hands wearing dark black gloves opens a cupboard with a key and reaches inside. They pull out a large gun. The pair of eyes that go with the hands glow with evil intent. They belong to a woman with revenge on the brain.
With one hand still clutching the gun, she smoothes down her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was ready. She walks up the steps out of the basement where her gun had been hidden and walks down the hall.
She had come to Paris years ago in search of a man. He was a man who she used to love. It was the day they were due to be wed to each other when the man fled to Paris leaving the woman alone and furious.
She swore she would kill the man for breaking her heart. So she got a fake identity, fake attitude, and fake stutter and followed him to Paris. She searched for years for him and finally, just last week, she found him. She followed him back to his apartment where he now lived with a new wife. The woman swore she would come back next week and kill them. Today was that day.
She left her house into the cold Paris night. The rain and wind hit her face hard, but she could barely feel it. She was stone hearted and determined. She did not think about the consequences for murder, just that it was what had to be done. She didn't care she would change her life forever. She didn't care about innocent lives being lost. She was a vicious, cruel hearted killer. Her name was Toussaint.
...
*knock knock*
Cosette stands in front of her vanity stand in her room. Gosh, I'm pretty, she thinks to herself. She runs a brush though her untangled blonde hair. It's no wonder why Marius is so in love with me. Who wouldn't be?
*knock knock*
She opens one of the vanity's little drawers and pulls out a small container of face powder. She used the pad to put the ever so slightest bit on her cheeks. She knew her Papa did not let her wear face powder, but it made her look so pretty she couldn't resist.
*knock knock*
"Toussaint, why aren't you answering the door?" Cosette shouts down. She receives no answer do she walks down the stairs by her room to the door and opens it. Two police officers stood at the other side.
"Bonjour," Cosette says, twisting a strand of her hair.
"Bonjour, Madmoiselle," one of the officers says. "May I please speak to the man of the house?"
"Alright," Cosette says. "PAPA! There are police officers at the door, come down!"
Jean Valjean hears her from the study and gets frightened. What if it is Javert? He peers out the door and sees that it isn't Javert. Phew. He walks out to greet them. "Good morning," he says.
"Good morning, Monsieur," an officer says. "Sorry to be disturbing you at this early hour, but we have some news that may shock you."
"What is the matter?" Jean Valjean asks.
"Well, it seems as though last night your housekeeper, Toussaint, killed two people," the officer says. "We caught her trying to run away last night. She admitted to killing them; she said something about revenge. Sorry to have to tell you this news."
"No, no, thank you officer," Jean Valjean says. "I always knew something was off about her. I could just never put my finger on it. Where is she now?"
"She is in a carriage right now on her way to prison," one of the policemen says.
"Oh," Jean Valjean says. "I'm sure that's for the best. Thank you officer."
"Thank you for your time," the officer says. The two policemen turn around and leave. Jean Valjean shuts the door behind them.
Cosette stands with crossed arms. She watches through the window as the policemen leave then says "Who's going to clean our house now?"
Jean Valjean, slightly annoyed by his daughter's brattyness but not daring to call her out on it, says "We'll have to try to find a new one."
...
Searching for a new live-in housekeeper. 55 Rue Plumet. Needed for cleaning, cooking, gardening, basic upkeep.
These words, written at the bottom of the Sunday paper, fall at Eponine Thenardier's bare feet. She picks the paper up.
She was always searching for opportunities for work, though most people would never hire her. Then she looked closer to the ad. 55 Rue Plumet. "55 Rue Plumet! I know that house!" she exclaims out loud, even though no one could hear her because she was on her own.
55 Rue Plumet was the house where Monsieur Marius' lover lived. It was the placed he spent his evenings. It was one of the only places Eponine could not follow him to- she followed him everywhere else. She always wondered how she could get inside to spy on Marius and Cosette's whereabouts.
She smiles up at the Paris sun as her brain hatches a marvelous idea.