And then came the fateful night of the opera. Looking back on it, everyone could only wonder what could have been done to prevent such a tragedy from occurring. After all, they probably all could have seen what had happened coming, if they had been looking for it. Unfortunately, nobody had anticipated the disaster, and, by the time anyone knew what was taking place, it was too late.
It began as the Angel of the Opera was in a dressing room, preparing for her role. She had a long sapphire gown on which hid her scars nicely and pristine white gloves. A woman had come in earlier to do her makeup, and, she had to admit, she looked pretty good. Angel, strangely, was not worried about going onstage to sing. After refusing to perform for an audience for the longest time, she could only wonder why she felt no qualms about doing it now, in front of what Andre and Firmin promised to be one of the largest audiences yet. Allegedly, this was the first run of a superbly reviewed opera that she would be doing tonight, and she would be singing alongside an all-star cast, including many popular singers who had been brought in from smaller theatres and their very own Christine Daae in a supporting role that was nothing to sneeze at. Furthermore, the managers had apparently circulated the story of her being a fallen angel around, further boosting the viewership numbers, as of course many would come simply to prove or debunk the myth of a heavenly creature serenading them that night. Yes, she was very excited for her theatrical debut.
Then it came as no surprise to her that Erik came to visit her about half an hour before she was set to begin. He had appeared from behind her dressing room mirror, and was clad in his usual black ensemble and contrasting white mask – a rather pointless accessory, as she already told him that his deformity only made him look better – and holding a bouquet of roses, tied together with black ribbon. The Phantom looked happy for her, but an air of worry sat about him.
"Why, hello, Erik!" Angel said, excitement in her voice, "Can you believe it? I am finally going to star in an opera! All those rehearsals with Madame Giry, every one of your voice lessons and all those years of watching people act onstage are all coming down to this! I am thrilled!"
The Phantom nodded, setting the roses onto the vanity, "Yes. Never fear, though, you will do impeccably, as always. I just wish Christine were here to witness your triumph." Like Mademoiselle Daae, he had in the recent past voiced to Angel thoughts about patching things up with his former-obsession. He had assured her that there would be no romantic involvement, and she was positive that he had been telling the truth.
Her brow furrowed, "What do you mean? She will be onstage right beside me, will she not?"
"No," Phantom replied, shaking his head, "She and one of the baritones mysteriously went missing a few hours ago, and nobody can seem to locate the pair." She shot him a look, and he quickly continued, "I, of course, had absolutely *no* involvement in this act. After all, I would *hate* to unleash Christine's understudy upon the stage."
"You mean Signora Carlotta?" Angel asked, "I agree, it would not be good if Christine does not return before the show begins." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"Mademoiselle Angel?" a male voice said from outside the door, "It is time for rehearsal."
"Rehearsal?" Erik asked, "Didn't you just run through the entire opera a little while ago?"
"Yes," Angel said, "But I suppose, knowing her, Carlotta will want to go over a couple of her scenes, to make sure she has them down. That is, anyway, what she has wanted us to do at every *other* rehearsal."
Phantom rolled his eyes, "I'm sure. I shall be seeing you, then." He began to step behind the mirror, "I will be sitting in Box Five, as usual, and I'll make sure that nothing happens."
"What do you mean?" Angel asked. Now she was becoming concerned. First Christine disappearing, now even *Phantom* was going to be watching for something odd? This might not end as well as she had hoped.
"Oh, never fear," he said soothingly, "Nothing will happen, most likely. However, what with Christine being gone and all, I want to be on the lookout for anything that may bring your opera to an abrupt end." With that, he was gone, disappeared into the passage behind the mirror. Angel was tempted to follow, but she had a duty. With a sigh, she left the dressing room to presumably practice with Carlotta.
The half hour of extra rehearsal went by faster than Angel thought that it would. It seemed as though, after being put in her place by both her *and* Christine, *then* having her mildly obese husband killed, Carlotta had become a little more docile during the routine, much to the relief of everyone that had to work with her that evening. There were no screaming matches, no temper tantrums, just a small group of people getting in some extra singing time before the show. It was quite relaxing, actually.
Before she knew it, though, Angel was onstage, singing away to a tune that sounded a bit like the song she had composed. She was sure that Erik had something to do with this, perhaps he got his hands on the score before the managers and did a bit of editing, but she did not have much time to consider such things while she acted. Her character was onstage quite a bit of the time, and she hardly had time for any costume changes between scenes. She also had probably one of the most rigorous singing parts she had ever come across, and, in her opinion, she had done reasonably well. It seemed the audience shared her view, as they applauded wildly for her as they watched the tale of her character unfold.
Apparently, she was playing a Russian czarina in England during the times of Robin Hood. True, it was not typical material for a very commercial opera, but it was a fresh and new idea that had the audience hanging on the edge of their seats. Her role was lively and imaginative, dampened only by the fact that Carlotta, in the part of the czarina's friend Maid Marian, was in many of the scenes with her. These were the thoughts that distracted her as she went on with the show, before she realized that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.
She first noticed something when the man who played King Richard approached. It was toward the end of the second act, and the action was heating up, preparing the viewers for the final fight scene at the end that would decide who was to be the ruler of England. The man had begun to sing, and Angel immediately realized that it was not the person who had usually done the part. She knew that the baritone that was assigned to the role was, then, the one that had gone missing, and this was just his understudy, but she felt uneasy. There was an odd familiarity about the voice that scared her. She wanted to look behind her to make sure that she did not know the man and that her fears were a product of the imagination, but the script dictated that she must have her back to the character of the King at all times. She knew, however, that the part called for her to turn around once he had finished his song, and she managed to keep her back to him until then.
Still, something else was wrong. Immediately after the baritone finished the scripted lyrics, he added his own. As he did, Angel realized what was going to happen, but it was too late. The man sang softly:
"Princess, Princess!
Lend me thine ear!
Princess, Princess!
There is news you must hear!
For I am King Richard,
The Brave and the Bold!
I hear you've a secret-
That must be told!"
Angel turned around in a whirlwind and stared her adversary straight in his horrible, awful eyes.
"No!" she cried as he tore open the back of her dress…
Meanwhile, Phantom was off attending to other matters. He had begun the night as he promised: watching Angel, sitting in Box Five and keeping an eye on her. The performance was especially riveting, which he attributed to both the interesting new plot concept and the actors onstage. However, when it was almost the end of the second act, a knock came from the door.
"Monsieur?" Madame Giry's voice came from outside, "I have a note for you. I do not know who it is from, but it the envelope says that it is of the utmost importance." Erik opened the door carefully and took the note from the woman.
"Thank you," he said, then nodded, dismissing her. She turned away and he shut the door, opening the envelope and reading its contents.
Phantom of the Opera,
I hope you are having a nice time watching the show tonight. I must admit, it is a pity that Christine Daae did not have the pleasure of participating in it this time, she ran into some trouble. I would suggest, if you knew what was best for your former love interest, to take a look in her dressing room before I go back for her.
Sincerely, Anonymous
Phantom looked up from the note, mind racing. Someone had kidnapped Christine! He *had* to go and save her. After all, he had to do *something* to show her that he meant no ill-will. Also the fact that it sounded like an insane fan was holding her hostage in her room, but that was inconsequential. It never crossed his mind to ask himself why someone would kidnap a woman, only to give her back only a matter of hours later.
He reached Christine's room in a flash, dashing through the deserted halls as opposed to navigating the tunnels. He could vaguely hear the opera going on nearby; they had almost reached the King Richard scene. He had always thought that this particular part was one of the best and most dramatic: there was the young czarina, standing alone in the woods when King Richard comes up behind her, frightening her badly before he finally reveals himself a number of singing lines later.
Phantom broke into Christine's room quickly and efficiently only to find her, to his horror, bound to a chair and gagged. He quickly undid the gag and questioned her as he worked on the ropes that kept her to the chair.
"What happened?" he asked quickly, "Who did this to you?"
"It's Raoul!" she said frantically, "He is crazy, I tell you! He keeps talking about revenge for me, revenge against you and doing something about Angel. Oh, please, Erik, you've got to believe me when I tell you that I wanted *no* part in this! Yes, a few days ago I may have desired to exact my revenge against you and your new student, but now I know that what Raoul wants to do is simply inhumane!"
"What does he want to do?" Phantom asked, undoing the last of Mademoiselle Daae's knots, "Why did he kidnap and tie you up like this?" Suddenly, a loud cry resounded throughout the Paris Opera House. Angel's scream.
Christine looked pale, "To distract you."
Fueled by passion, Phantom raced up to the theatre area and got there instantaneously, but he was too late to spare her. There she was on the stage, Raoul in the King Richard costume, holding her, with a good deal of her costume torn off, revealing hideous scars and deformities across her body: her legs, arms, torso and *especially* her back were covered with malformations of the skin and underlying muscles. The crowd was silent, staring at the spectacle with mouths agape.
Then they burst into applause.
"I knew that this play was written for surprises," one man commented in front of Phantom and Christine, "But I couldn't see *this* coming! Who knew that the Princess was deformed? Superb plot twist!"
"So *that* is why they sent her out of Russia!" another said, a look of realization on his face, "It was to keep their family's good name! After all, nobody would know that she even existed halfway across the Earth! Good show! Bravo!"
In the midst of all this sensation, Phantom made his way through the standing crowd and toward the stage. Once he and Christine reached it, though, there was no trace of Angel anywhere. Thankfully, there *was* a trace of the Vicomte.
"There!" Christine cried, pointing to a coattail vanishing around a corner, "There he goes!"
"And probably with Angel," Erik growled as they pressed ahead, past actors and set pieces, hot on Raoul's tail. The pair only hoped that they would be able to reach the Raoul and Angel in time, before anything else happened.
They didn't.