First of all, let me make clear that this will be an Erik/Christine story. I don't like stories where they meet in chapter one, and end up getting together in chapter four, so this will be an eventual E/C story. To get into a few more details, this story is based a little off Kay's Phantom (some of the characters, etc). It is, in short, a retelling of our story that has an extremely heavy twist. Stay with me and find out? (:

Disclaimer: I wish I owned PotO… or Erik, at least.

Prologue

"Oh, you do flatter me so!"

Laughter and cheerful voices rang out through the ballroom. The maid was cleaning hastily around the edges of the door, and she couldn't help but peek at the beautiful array of colors that made up the breath-taking evening dresses. The little maid dropped automatically to her hands and knees as a few guests walked by her, fanning themselves with their dainty fans. The maid darted a quick look into the room again, marveling at the richly dressed guests.

Of course, she reflected to herself, scrubbing away at the floor, the ballroom was rarely empty; heavens knows that Master Quarienne was always throwing parties for himself, his "women" (the Master never thought of marrying, if you know what I mean), and his many friends. The maid peeked another glance into the room; she wasn't sure if everyone in that room knew each other, but fine wine and delicate pasties would loosen up their tongues and they would all eventually greet and meet.

Exactly what the Master did, no one was quite sure. The little maid quickly stood up and curtsied politely as the man in question walked out, his escort for the night clinging adoringly to his arm. The fact remained that he brought home stupendous amounts of money each month. There were rumors that the Master (Sir Head-of-the-House, Lord Quarienne; his list of titles go on for ages) was involved in rather sketchy businesses across Paris; the maid tried not to believe in such things. Why, the very idea of Monsieur Quarienne working with…

Impossible!

Although, she had to admit, the man was not exactly the most… she pushed such rude thoughts out of her mind; she was paid very well, and she should not be thinking such horrid things about the Master.

At length, the guests began taking their leave, and the little maid hurriedly stepped back to avoid tripping anyone by accident. She bobbed a few curtsies here and there, and quickly returned to her dormitories before anyone could properly notice her.

Walking at a remarkably rapid pace, she reached the third floor balcony just as the guests began exiting the mansion. The maid always liked to watch them going; all the women looked so darn beautiful in their expensive dresses, and all the men looked so handsome. She could never hope to be like that, of course, but she could dream. The maid leaned out, and pretended to dust the nearby drapery as she snuck glances out at the people.

She was so absorbed in acting casual, and her attention was so easily snagged by the fancy clothes. The poor girl didn't even know what hit her.

All at once, she found it hard to breathe; it was not a normal choking feeling. There was something flexible and thin tightening around her neck. Unfortunately for her, she did not get a chance to register this. In all honesty, she did not even realize that there was something around her neck until her neck snapped, and she died. Just like that.

Erik flicked his wrist nonchalantly, and the noose slackened immediately. He tucked the Punjab lasso back into his belt, and stood impassively, gazing down at the dead body of the girl. Poor thing, not even twenty years old and already her life had ended. He didn't bother to check if any of the guests had seen the girl suddenly fall back; he could hear their happy chattering drifting up from below. Quietly, he stood in the shadows and his lips pulled into a wry smile.

It was regrettable that he had had to kill the girl, but she was fidgeting so much with the curtains that she was going to end up discovering his hiding spot; he couldn't have that, now could he?

Twenty minutes later and Erik had successfully disposed of the girl's body; lashed to three heavy rocks, he had let her sink into the depths of the lake that ran through the mansion's backyard. He watched the dark form of the girl's body disappearing for a while, leaning against a tree. Oh, no one would see him; it was quite late into the evening, and he was dressed all in black, with a heavy velvet cape, and a fedora pulled over to cast a shadow in his face; it was a wonder that he could see himself.

Erik waited another few moments, just to be sure that the body wouldn't decide to float up again. For extra measure, he waited another minute or two.

Then the real waiting began. He had been here since sunset, but he would be here for a while yet as he would wait for all the lights in the house to turn off before making his move. His oddly yellow eyes, glittering like a cat's, surveyed the almost pitch-black night around him. The gardeners were in bed already, the guests were already gone, and now he just had to wait for the "Master" to finish screwing with whichever woman he had with him tonight.

Erik smiled humorlessly, and adjusted the snug-fitted mask over his face. Everyone at Masquerade Inc. wore masks, of course. It was part of the contract; you sign up to work, you go under a code name, and you wear a mask. No one knows who you are, you do not know who anyone else is, and that is the way things are. In his twenty-six years of working at M. Inc., he had overheard plenty of, "I hate wearing masks" and "It scratches my face" and other complaints, but he liked the feeling of cool leather against his skin.

His mask was custom made. He wouldn't have it any other way. The white leather fit perfectly against his face, hiding everything except for his chin and lips. There were holes in the nose wide enough for him to breathe comfortably, and the slits for eyes were just fine to see through.

Patiently, he stood against the tree. He barely moved a muscle for the next two hours, and only when every single light had been doused, and a good interval of time had passed, did he finally uncross his arms and stifle a yawn.

He should ask for a raise.

Well, everything seemed to be in order.

He set back to the front of the house, gliding effortlessly from shadow to shadow. The night was his element and no one could maneuver in it quite as well as he did. His heavy cape swirled around his ankles, sometimes lifting up as he made swift movements. Like the wings of an overgrown bat, the cape fanned out behind him. Efficiently, calculatingly, he climbed up a tree, jumped lightly on to a branch, and walked from the branch to a balcony, as if he did that every day.

Quarienne's bedroom was the fourth room from the right of the second staircase on the top floor. He mentally repeated the directions to himself again, and noiselessly slid the balcony window open. He eased into the room, darted through into the hallway, and began counting the rooms.

Casually, he picked the lock on the designated room, and let himself in.

It was completely dark; no lights were lit, and the curtains were drawn. But none of that affected Erik's cat-like vision. He could see the lump of blankets that was Quarienne, and he walked towards the man quite calmly. Once he was at the bedside, he glanced around, and pulled the curtains back so some moonlight could shine in.

"Quarienne," he said softly, "wakey, wakey."

The man opened his eyes immediately, a spasm of fear rocketing through his bloodshot eyes, but Erik did not give him time to react.

He was dead before he could draw a breath.

"You know I do not take kindly to not being paid for my services," he said mellifluously, opening a cupboard and serenely taking out a wad of thousand franc notes, "do not ask for me again if you are unwilling to pay."

Erik unwound the lasso from around the man's neck, setting it away once more in his belt. He arranged the room to look exactly like it was before he had entered. He retraced his steps through the house, fixed everything the way it should be, and imperturbably took his leave.

It was merely another day in his life.

A/N: It is just prologue, a vague introduction to Erik and his job… (: If you haven't figured it out yet, he's an assassin. I know, not original! But this is only the prologue, so... give me a chance. :D Please leave a review, it's what fuels us writers.