Paris, France – 1876
The reconstruction of the Opera was Hell on Erik's patience, something he had never had very much of to begin with. The infamous Opera Ghost did not take well to boredom, but what other choice did he have; he had caused the damage, what else could be done but wait for it to be repaired?
Sometimes, though, it was simply too much. When his patience would wear too thin the Ghost would content himself with killing a few of the mindless construction workers who he knew would never be missed. He had never been one to kill for sport, but it certainly was better than killing himself.
No matter how he had pleaded to die when she left, no matter how he had threatened to kill himself if he didn't die of grief first, the Phantom of the Opera feared death. Living on Earth was as close to Hell as he had come, but he didn't at all fancy eternal damnation for his crimes, the rest of forever spent in a Hell worse than this one. Nor did he particularly like the idea of going to Heaven to spend his afterlife with the God who had damned him (not as if that was an option, of course. One who had committed so many crimes as he does not go to Heaven without some sort of reckoning first, he remembered that much of his lessons as a boy). The Ghost didn't like the idea of wandering in Purgatory either, so what choice did he have but to live?
Construction was nearly complete, though, and Erik had decided the people in his kingdom had gone far too long without knowing who controlled their every thought and action. Tonight's killing would not be for sport, the innocent soul would not simply disappear off the face of the earth like the others had. No, that wouldn't make much of an impact at all.
This man, though, was incredibly dim. Erik paced silently and unseen, the only thing keeping his victim's short attention span focused was the occasional intentional rustle and movement in the shadows, which more often than not was not the Opera Ghost at all, rather a pre-placed prop that would move of its own accord or make popping sounds that sounded rather like footprints on a ladder.
The length of the Punjab Lasso fell through his gloved fingertips as he coiled and uncoiled the rope in a move that suggested the holder was anxious. And why shouldn't he be? He had been dormant far to long, it had been ages since he had last heard the nearly physically gratifying sounds of panicked humans. Finally! The man was close enough to the Ghost and far enough away from his peers, and with a skilled flick of the wrist the Phantom let the Punjab fly, expertly catching the unsuspecting dolt by the neck. In far more than an instant the man was suffocated (that was the intention, of course; not only did it create a far more intimidating corpse, Erik was forced to suffer daily pain, why should his victims be spared it?), strangled by the very string of catgut that was winding itself for the final time in its master's leather-encased hand.
Erik began the difficult journey of bringing the man to where he would be discovered; kidnapping ninety pound divas was easy, but moving the dead bulk of a full grown, overweight men was another matter entirely. He was a strong man himself, though, and after a few minutes of dragging the corpse up a ladder to the catwalk, a different rope was placed around the man's neck (for the Punjab was far too valuable a weapon to be left in the care of a dead idiot) and his body pushed off the catwalk.
Instant gratification! What a sight it must have been, a man whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time hanging dead from the catwalk, neck broken now from the second fall, all life drained from him. The Opera Ghost's eyes flashed wickedly as a man immediately shouted below him, and the sweet, sweet sound of a woman's scream pierced the air.
"He's back! Oh God, somebody fetch the managers, and quickly!"
Finally the world had realized the Opera Ghost had not died, that he was still alive and well, and as dangerous as ever. The screams echoed and grew as the story spread through the Opera like a wildfire (rumors had a bad habit of doing that in an Opera House…). The managers had been brought, and realizing their worst fears had come true began immediately barking orders.
"Alright everyone, settle down. Someone, take him down from there…" Richard Firmin's orders were obeyed immediately and he continued. "Now, did anyone here see anything?"
One of the men groaned and rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you half-wit. He's a God damned Ghost!" This only seemed to increase the panic among the superstitious workers, a thing the Opera Ghost's ego was feasting on.
Quite satisfied with himself, Erik turned from the scene to one of the many trapdoors leading to his home by the underground lake to compose his ultimatum. It was then a sound reached his ears, only one with musically-trained ears as his would have caught through the panic below.
The Summoning of Angels. The Opera Ghost straightened noticeably… well, noticeably if he could be seen. Had she returned? Had that treacherous snake returned to her master? No other knew his summon, unless Christine had further betrayed him.
Several emotions, most rather similar to boiling anger, compelled Erik to investigate. Echoes were easy to locate in an Opera house (more so when he had helped build it and designed its acoustics), and his sharp though aging eyes could not believe what they were seeing.
Inside his box; HIS box, Erik seethed; a group of people in the strangest manner of dress stood all looking rather frightened and disoriented. If he didn't know better, he would even venture to say one was the Persian.
"What the Hell..?" he breathed, deciding to wait in the shadows a bit and continue his investigation. A letter of demands could wait, and as he knew the managers were awaiting one, the suspense might actually help see his needs were properly seen to.
MelG: Yes, it is a rather despie-ish idea, I realize this. Though it will have some fluff, it has an ending I promise (unless you've read the RP), none of you will expect. It is the best RP I have ever been part of, full of twists and turns. XD Thank you for your encouragements.
Lack of spelling errors thanks, in part, to Microsoft Word ooo, aaaa