Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera in any of its mediums. Nor do I own X-Men: Evolution.

This is a story I wrote for a friend. It was received well by her and everyone else who read it. And now, a really long time after I wrote it, I've decided to post it here. I've edited it and fixed it up a bit. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chapter One: Is It the Ghost?

Lance Alvers frowned, brow furrowing under his bangs.

Ripping the note out from under the banana magnet that had pinned it to the fridge, he scanned the piece of paper once, twice. Then he went back and read it properly.

Written in red ink on coarse paper was this:

Dear Monsieurs of the Boardinghouse

I am sorry to trouble you at a time I know must when you must be so very busy, fighting the X-Men, skipping school and attempting to fend for yourselves without a leader.

However, I should like to take advantage of the fact that you are able to provide yourselves with ample amounts of food (Monsieur Dukes' talents in this field are impeccable) and request that both food and drink be provided for myself as well. Six peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, accompanied by two bottles of Dr. Pepper, are to be left underneath the attic door on the third floor of the Boardinghouse once a day. If I wish to acquire any less healthy substances, I shall obtain them myself, and not trouble you with petty errands.

Also, I must add that this is the third time I have made any such requests. But service is denied me. And I know that at least one of you is finding these letters, yet persisting to ignore them. Consequently, you are treating me with outrageous contempt. And I must warn you, gentleman, if I am denied food there will be CONSEQUENCES.

Your most Humble and Obedient Admirer, O.G.

Scowling, Lance angrily clenched his fist, crumpling the note. This resulted in a minor tremor, which Lance quickly silenced. Being able to sense almost every vibration in the house, Lance had gained a newfound paranoia that the Boardinghouse now clung to its foundations like Sylvester the Cat to a telephone wire. Attempts had been made to show Lance just how stable the house was, but having nearly died during the infamous X-Jet joyride two weeks ago, the rock shaker was in no shape to trust a structure that was in the process of being trashed beyond repair.

Lance's expression of panic faded back into an angry frown as he bent to pick up the crumpled note, which he had dropped upon unclenching his hand. Smoothing out the paper and staring at the labored, childish handwriting, Lance knew it was time to get to the bottom of this. And when he got his hands on the guy responsible...

"WHEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"

Bouncing and ricocheting off the walls, Todd descended the stairs, used the banister to make a sharp turn, and then made a huge, graceful leap into the kitchen...only to belly flop directly onto the kitchen table.

"OOOOW!!!!! Oh man, that smarts..." Todd moaned, lying prone on the wood surface.

Lance raised an eyebrow, opening the refrigerator to retrieve what he'd come into the kitchen for in the first place: orange juice. Lance took a swig out of the bottle, then put it back.

"How the hell are you so hyper?" He complained to Todd, turning around. "It's seven goddamn AM on a Friday morning."

"Went into Freddy's room to wake him up, he was sprawled out with a half-full box of Oreos balancin' on his fat stomach. I ate 'em. Sugar rush."

"The Blob left something half-eaten? Will wonders not cease." Lance said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Wait--did you write this?"

"Write what?"

This note...it's really more of a letter, though. It's the third one I've seen on the fridge this week. They keep showing up."

Lance handed the battered, wrinkled sheet of paper to Todd, who immediately began to read it, mouthing out the words silently.

"Naw, I didn't write this." Todd looked confusedly at Lance. "Why'd you think I had?"

"I really didn't think so." Lance said. "There's no possible way you'd know what 'contempt' means."

"Hey!" Todd protested, sitting up. Perched in his standard Toad-pose, he handed the letter back to Lance.

"So, who did write it?" Todd asked.

"I have no idea." Lance said. "I thought it was somebody joking at first, but I'm not so sure anymore. Freddy can't write script to save his life, not even the weird way this shit is written. It can't be Pietro's handwriting because there's no way speedy boy would leave spaces between the words. I've seen his homework, he does that even when he prints. And it can't be Mystique, 'cause even if she was back, she wouldn't be creepin' around her own home begging for food. And she wouldn't joke around like this. As for the X-Men...well, I know 'em now. And none of 'em with the abilities to sneak in here undetected and stick this on the fridge would be stupid enough to bother."

Toad pondered this for a moment.

"Could it be Tabby?"

"Please, have you ever seen her actually ask for something as opposed to taking it?"

"Good point." Todd said, studying the note. There was a moment's pause. "So, who do you think wrote it?"

"I told you, I have no idea. But it's definitely an intruder. Someone who's spying on us and trying to scare us."

Lance stood up straight, grim determination on his face.

"And I'll tell you one thing: Lance Alvers does not get pushed around. I'm gonna find out who the hell's set up shop in our attic. Today."

"You gonna skip school?" Todd asked, nonchalant.

"Yes, and so are you. We all are, because if this gets serious we're gonna need everyone. This is a mission."

"A mission?" Todd perked up.

"Yes."

"Awright, yeah!" Todd whooped, jumping up and down. "Finally, we be gettin' some action around here!"

Freddy appeared at the doorway, blinking his eyes sleepily.

"Did anyone see my box of Oreos?" He asked.

tbc.