Now I know nobody read this. Oh well. This is for my own personal amusement. If people just happen to wise up to this little series, that's just my luck. Enjoy, if you are reading this. Wait...

Ch.2: The Hunted

Meg's POV

I rushed forward to my mother's side as she crumpled to the ground, and anguished cry escaping my throat. A few people in the multitude stirred, but did nothing to help her. I looked at these seemingly sympathetic individuals, silently asking for succor. Still nothing was done. As my mother's eyes glazed over, a horrible curse issued from my lips. " You monsters! What have you done? By God, you've killed her!" I broke down at her side, weeping bitterly. Firmin poked his cane in my side, guffawing in a pompous manner.

"Killed her? Hardly. She is stunned as punishment for uncooperative behavior. She helped those two murderers get away!" I stood up to my full height, looking him straight in the eye. "You horrible man! Have you no shame? You just knocked out a fifty year old woman!" Two masculine arms seized me and dragged me away from his sneering face. Andre strutted to his side, the duo a disgraceful pair. The stout one ruffled nonexistent feathers, chuckling evilly. " I wouldn't worry too much, my dear. Your friends will be back soon, for our parties will find them within minutes. As for your mother, she can join Buquet in hell for all I care" He clucked his tongue mockingly. I roared in fury, lashing out at my assailants. A hard blow stuck me in the back of the head, and when I came back to, I was in Christine's dressing room, on a cot opposite a half-dead Raoul de Chagney.

Christine's POV

As the black horse raced through the fog, I clutched Erik's midriff, quite literally hanging on for dear life. I could hear the shouts of many men behind us, calling to each other in English, a language I could not understand. Erik, who obviously could understand this foreign tongue, looked frightened by this comment. "They say they are going to-to hang me when they catch me and do terrible things to you." He called as quietly as possible over the roar of passing wind, not wanting to attract the attention of the vigilante mob. I could tell he was a bit scared, for both of us knew that when French nobility was threatened or insulted, the whole city would come to their aid. The entire city was out to get us.

Abruptly, a pair of scruffy men on chestnut horses appeared at the end of the cobblestone street. Erik began to draw his sword, but I stopped him. " We can't hurt them," I cried frantically, "that will only increase their evidence against us. I heard something that sounded distinctly like a sigh issue from his chest. "Alright."

The horse then took a huge leap over a garden fence, landing knee-deep in the aftermath of last night's storm. Both of us jumped off the animal before we could get stuck in the mud, but the horse was not so lucky. It began to roar and whinny piercingly, creating a cacophony of the beast's final sounds. " We can't let them find us," I said in a low voice. Erik nodded, struck dumb by the dilemma ahead. Then without another word, he drew his sword and drove it into the animals racing heart. I cried out, my own pains mixing with that of the dying horse's. All was silent within moments.

" Perfect. Now we have no horse." Was all Erik could say. I could tell he was furious because that animal had been a great companion to him. But now, there were bigger fish to fry. Madame Giry or Meg could possibly be in mortal danger.

"Now," He began again, " let it be war upon them all. Christine, we must return and save the Girys." This last comment surprised me. " Yes, we must return, but you, me, or all of us could be shot down like dogs." He then seized me by the shoulders.

" Don't you dare say that! We are all going to make it out of here. If anybody's going to die, it's going to be me."

Back to Meg's POV

I stared in horror as the Vicomte began to stir to life, fumbling with the lock on the door. He sat up, looking dazedly around the small room. Not seeming to notice me, Raoul began to gingerly touch the bandage around his midriff. " Ow…" He whispered, as though stunned at having the wound, " She did it. Christine actually tried to kill me. What have I done?" The Vicomte began to wail weakly.

The distraught man then caught sight of me, frowning. " What are you doing here? And where's Christine?" he demanded, worry in his swollen eyes. "Well, for starters," I began, unable to keep the rage out of my voice, " Both she and Erik are running for their lives, being pursued by your mob, and I'm here because I smart-mouthed the managers for nearly killing my mum!" At this, I began to cry, Raoul looking angry and confused. " My dear, Christine needn't run for her life, but the other," he chuckled wickedly, " I want dead. I want him to die a slow, painful death. I want to cause him every inkling of pain he ever caused me." He quickly stopped talking, the pain of the stab wound getting to him, falling back into the oblivion of peaceful sleep while the rest of us fought for our lives