A/N: Ok for the rest of you guys. This is the darker side of Erik just to let you know. No he isn't going to forget about Christina and go on a "Jack the Ripper killing spree," lol. Don't worry I wouldn't do that to you! Read and Review (why am I asking that, ya'll always do!) Forgive me there really is no romance in this chapter (unless you count Erik's love for the Punjab Lasso, lol) Don't worry the romance will come!
Erik had not walked the stage for many months. He had been content down in the depths of the Opera House, but now it seemed he needed to be free of the stone walls. He took great precautions of checking to make sure nothing was amiss or damaged by anything other than natural causes in the main theater. No intruders had come to disturb him. He finally drew in a sigh, after he found he was holding his breath. He could deal with them easily, but killing wasn't something he liked to do...anymore. Most of the mysterious deaths at the Paris Opera House had been sold to the public as accidents. Things like that happen in the theater, they said. Joseph Buquet's death however could not be labeled as an accident. He'd deliberately cross the line from where Erik was concerned. Buquet had once spoken out loud and threatened the shadows, where Erik had been standing out of sight, that if the Phantom bothered the ballet girls anymore he would kill Erik himself. He'd also been filling the half-witted ballet girls with all sorts of stories about the Phantom's face, and what truly lay behind the mask. He had warned Joseph through Madam Giry that if he did not cease his actions his life would be forfeit. The fool had continued down his pointless path. Erik had no choice. If he did not silence Buquet he would reveal that he knew of the entrance into the lair. Madam Giry had not been careful enough disguising where she had gotten the letters for the managers. He had not punished her. He had threatened her. If she wished her daughter to remain in the ballet chorus she would cover her steps, and never let anyone see her going to the entrance of the lair again. As for Joseph he died a quick and sudden death, Erik had been merciful. Before he had killed him, however, he'd done something he'd never done before to a victim. He could remember the scene as easily as any other memory...
"Good Evening Monsieur Buquet," Erik said into the shadows. He knew Joseph was there, he always stayed at his post long enough to drink most of his container of spirits and then go and refill it. He hoped that Joseph had drunk enough to make himself sick. He smiled darkly.
"Who's there," The slurred voice said back to him.
"Friend, I've just come to talk with you about some...decisions I am hard pressed to make by tonight," Erik said staying in the darkness in front of Buquet.
"Talk to someone who has time, I have a job to do!" Joseph was pretending to be busy, but his drunken movements were giving him away.
"Oh, but you do have time Monsieur,"
"No, I'm busy," He stumbled a bit.
"You have time," Erik said darkly. Joseph stopped what he was doing and peered into the shadows where Erik was standing. "You have time enough to speak extensively on a subject you have no right to be dabbling with,"
"You never told me your name, Friend," Joseph said harshly.
"That is true," Erik smiled again. "But you seem to know the most interesting facts about me, Monsieur,"
"What are you talking about? I don't know you!" He was starting to get anxious... good.
"Oh but you think you do,"
"I don't know what you mean," Joseph was losing his confidence.
"So you've said... so I will say again that I think you do," Erik spoke in a soft harsh voice.
"Monsieur Firmin will be angry with me if I don't continue my job so if you will excuse me...,"Buquet was backing away.
"But I have not," Erik began slowly walking towards him still bathed in shadows.
"I think you should go," Joseph whispered.
"I have not finished speaking with you," He said as though he was hurt at Joseph's refusal to speak with him. "I've heard some rather...disturbing things about you Monsieur. It seems you like to tell rather elaborate stories about a certain man,"
"The Phantom, good sir?" Joseph spoke up to soon, he winced at his mistake.
"Why yes... That's exactly who I meant," Erik said.
"Very interesting man, like a vampire he is," Joseph said. He probably was the kind of man who liked to hear his own voice and didn't think about what he was saying.
"A vampire? Hunts in shadow you mean? Out for...blood?"
"Y..yes," Buquet stuttered. "He is a murderer who kills without thought. He slits the throats of foolish girls who wander into the lair,"
"Really? Are these the kind of stories do you tell the ballet girls?"
"H..how did you know that?"
"Answer the question!" Erik thundered in a loud whisper. He had to be careful. A performance was being put on and they were right above it in the rafters of the Paris Opera House. He could hear the strains of violins and flutes playing the ballet.
"True...stories, good Monsieur," He stumbled, but did not fall.
"True? How do you know they are true, Buquet?"
"Because they are?" He offered feebly. Rage welled up in Erik's soul.
"Fool!" He scoffed. "You don't know what is true!"
"But how would you?" He mumbled in his defense. That was it. He had signed his own death sentence.
"How would I!?" Erik forced himself to calm down. He drew in several deep breaths before he spoke again. "Tell me Monsieur, have you ever seen the Phantom's face?"
"N ...no,"
"So you speak of what you do not know!"
"I...I," Joseph had nothing left to say as far as Erik was concerned.
"I see," He spoke again in a haunted whisper. Buquet's eyes were wide with fear by now.
"Please...," He pleaded. "I will be silent!"
"You had your chance Buquet. Now you shall see what you have thought yourself a scholar on..." He entered into the dim lighting. Buquet was pinned. He had no where to run. Erik began to remove his mask a little at a time.
"No!" Buquet was throwing his body against a locked door that led from the rafters to the safety of the stage.
"I have no pity for you, for you showed none to me," He lifted the mask off entirely and Joseph's face contorted into wide eyed fear. He shook his head as Erik came toward him, the Punjab Lasso dangling in one hand. "You know what this is my friend...you seem to like speaking of it!"
Joseph's death had shocked the Opera public. This proved the Phantom truly lived, and he was entirely real. He wasn't some cooked up story that had been passed around by the chattering ballet girls. Buquet was the last person Erik had ever killed, and for Christina's sake he would never murder again. He'd been startled when Buquet had described the Phantom as being a sort of vampire. Slitting throats! Indeed, the thought of it made his blood boil. He never killed innocent women. Now Carlotta would have been the only women he would have taken the pleasure in cutting her throat. The women acted like a bumbling queen bee. What a triumph it had been to humiliate her in front of all the Paris Opera goers. The croaking toad. The thought of her soprano voice rumbling out as a toad's cry almost made him smile. He wandered around in the shadows of the stage. The theater was in such as sad state it would embarrassing to the Managers, let alone the Architect. He brushed cobwebs away, and stared hard at the ground, underneath some of the dust on the floor of the stage was something hidden there. He cleared away the debris and picked it up. It was an elegantly written poster for the auction. The final "performance" to take place in the Opera House. Erik let the poster fall from his hands, it landed with a brush against the dust on the floor...
A/N: Told you it was the darker side of Erik, hope it didn't gross anybody out, but since you're Erik lovers you know he is kind of creepy, in a romantic kind of way of course.
Erik had not walked the stage for many months. He had been content down in the depths of the Opera House, but now it seemed he needed to be free of the stone walls. He took great precautions of checking to make sure nothing was amiss or damaged by anything other than natural causes in the main theater. No intruders had come to disturb him. He finally drew in a sigh, after he found he was holding his breath. He could deal with them easily, but killing wasn't something he liked to do...anymore. Most of the mysterious deaths at the Paris Opera House had been sold to the public as accidents. Things like that happen in the theater, they said. Joseph Buquet's death however could not be labeled as an accident. He'd deliberately cross the line from where Erik was concerned. Buquet had once spoken out loud and threatened the shadows, where Erik had been standing out of sight, that if the Phantom bothered the ballet girls anymore he would kill Erik himself. He'd also been filling the half-witted ballet girls with all sorts of stories about the Phantom's face, and what truly lay behind the mask. He had warned Joseph through Madam Giry that if he did not cease his actions his life would be forfeit. The fool had continued down his pointless path. Erik had no choice. If he did not silence Buquet he would reveal that he knew of the entrance into the lair. Madam Giry had not been careful enough disguising where she had gotten the letters for the managers. He had not punished her. He had threatened her. If she wished her daughter to remain in the ballet chorus she would cover her steps, and never let anyone see her going to the entrance of the lair again. As for Joseph he died a quick and sudden death, Erik had been merciful. Before he had killed him, however, he'd done something he'd never done before to a victim. He could remember the scene as easily as any other memory...
"Good Evening Monsieur Buquet," Erik said into the shadows. He knew Joseph was there, he always stayed at his post long enough to drink most of his container of spirits and then go and refill it. He hoped that Joseph had drunk enough to make himself sick. He smiled darkly.
"Who's there," The slurred voice said back to him.
"Friend, I've just come to talk with you about some...decisions I am hard pressed to make by tonight," Erik said staying in the darkness in front of Buquet.
"Talk to someone who has time, I have a job to do!" Joseph was pretending to be busy, but his drunken movements were giving him away.
"Oh, but you do have time Monsieur,"
"No, I'm busy," He stumbled a bit.
"You have time," Erik said darkly. Joseph stopped what he was doing and peered into the shadows where Erik was standing. "You have time enough to speak extensively on a subject you have no right to be dabbling with,"
"You never told me your name, Friend," Joseph said harshly.
"That is true," Erik smiled again. "But you seem to know the most interesting facts about me, Monsieur,"
"What are you talking about? I don't know you!" He was starting to get anxious... good.
"Oh but you think you do,"
"I don't know what you mean," Joseph was losing his confidence.
"So you've said... so I will say again that I think you do," Erik spoke in a soft harsh voice.
"Monsieur Firmin will be angry with me if I don't continue my job so if you will excuse me...,"Buquet was backing away.
"But I have not," Erik began slowly walking towards him still bathed in shadows.
"I think you should go," Joseph whispered.
"I have not finished speaking with you," He said as though he was hurt at Joseph's refusal to speak with him. "I've heard some rather...disturbing things about you Monsieur. It seems you like to tell rather elaborate stories about a certain man,"
"The Phantom, good sir?" Joseph spoke up to soon, he winced at his mistake.
"Why yes... That's exactly who I meant," Erik said.
"Very interesting man, like a vampire he is," Joseph said. He probably was the kind of man who liked to hear his own voice and didn't think about what he was saying.
"A vampire? Hunts in shadow you mean? Out for...blood?"
"Y..yes," Buquet stuttered. "He is a murderer who kills without thought. He slits the throats of foolish girls who wander into the lair,"
"Really? Are these the kind of stories do you tell the ballet girls?"
"H..how did you know that?"
"Answer the question!" Erik thundered in a loud whisper. He had to be careful. A performance was being put on and they were right above it in the rafters of the Paris Opera House. He could hear the strains of violins and flutes playing the ballet.
"True...stories, good Monsieur," He stumbled, but did not fall.
"True? How do you know they are true, Buquet?"
"Because they are?" He offered feebly. Rage welled up in Erik's soul.
"Fool!" He scoffed. "You don't know what is true!"
"But how would you?" He mumbled in his defense. That was it. He had signed his own death sentence.
"How would I!?" Erik forced himself to calm down. He drew in several deep breaths before he spoke again. "Tell me Monsieur, have you ever seen the Phantom's face?"
"N ...no,"
"So you speak of what you do not know!"
"I...I," Joseph had nothing left to say as far as Erik was concerned.
"I see," He spoke again in a haunted whisper. Buquet's eyes were wide with fear by now.
"Please...," He pleaded. "I will be silent!"
"You had your chance Buquet. Now you shall see what you have thought yourself a scholar on..." He entered into the dim lighting. Buquet was pinned. He had no where to run. Erik began to remove his mask a little at a time.
"No!" Buquet was throwing his body against a locked door that led from the rafters to the safety of the stage.
"I have no pity for you, for you showed none to me," He lifted the mask off entirely and Joseph's face contorted into wide eyed fear. He shook his head as Erik came toward him, the Punjab Lasso dangling in one hand. "You know what this is my friend...you seem to like speaking of it!"
Joseph's death had shocked the Opera public. This proved the Phantom truly lived, and he was entirely real. He wasn't some cooked up story that had been passed around by the chattering ballet girls. Buquet was the last person Erik had ever killed, and for Christina's sake he would never murder again. He'd been startled when Buquet had described the Phantom as being a sort of vampire. Slitting throats! Indeed, the thought of it made his blood boil. He never killed innocent women. Now Carlotta would have been the only women he would have taken the pleasure in cutting her throat. The women acted like a bumbling queen bee. What a triumph it had been to humiliate her in front of all the Paris Opera goers. The croaking toad. The thought of her soprano voice rumbling out as a toad's cry almost made him smile. He wandered around in the shadows of the stage. The theater was in such as sad state it would embarrassing to the Managers, let alone the Architect. He brushed cobwebs away, and stared hard at the ground, underneath some of the dust on the floor of the stage was something hidden there. He cleared away the debris and picked it up. It was an elegantly written poster for the auction. The final "performance" to take place in the Opera House. Erik let the poster fall from his hands, it landed with a brush against the dust on the floor...
A/N: Told you it was the darker side of Erik, hope it didn't gross anybody out, but since you're Erik lovers you know he is kind of creepy, in a romantic kind of way of course.