Ooh, this will be great fun to write. I can probably guarantee a sadisticscene ahead, so hold onto your hats!

Ch. 5: The Man in the Mask

Erik's POV

When the door to the roof swung open, a mixture of anger, fear, and biting wind hit me square in the face. The statues loomed menacingly in the pale moonlight, casting shadows that melted into horrible, nonexistent silhouettes. Rose petals crunched softly beneath my feet, staining the snow a bloody shade of scarlet. The ominous trail abruptly halted at the foot of a gigantic winged horse. Before I could investigate this, a hellish pain caught me in the side, a brutal blow coming out of nowhere. With the flush rising in my frozen cheeks, an agonizing throbbing sensation threatened to overwhelm me. Another clout got me in the temple, a chuckle coinciding with our meet.

"Well, well, the amazing Phantom of the Opera, we convene at last." A voice boomed out of the swirling nausea that was my vision. I blindly swiped at the bastard, another chuckle mocking my efforts.

" If you must know the truth, you aren't half as fearsome as those little ballet twits make you out to be." Another sickening punch caught the line of my jaw. In another vain attempt to defend myself, I drew my sword and swiped at the voice. Two heavy boots landed near my head, kicking me in the jaw.

How could I have let myself blindly wander into such a blatant trap? Taken leave of my senses I had. Now, here I was, being battered into near submission by a serial wannabe. Even worse than the pain was the concept of my not being able to fight back. I had lost my eyesight from a vicious kick delivered to the back of my head, so all was dark. Hopefully, as the Persian had taught me, this would only be temporary blindness. Otherwise, the prospect was bleak.

"You are losing your touch, Erik," The voice said melodramatically. " You are getting fat. What this town needs is some action. As for me, I will do them a service and raise bloody hell!" At this he snatched my sword from my seemingly useless hands.

" Let's see if this won't get a rise out of you," It said, and the next thing I knew, my sword was jammed full-force into my side, ripping a horrible scream from my chest. With any luck, folks in Ireland would have heard my cry of pain.

A/N: Erik isn't really fat. It's just a figure of speech, for those of you who want to conserve the Gerik image.

Murderer's POV

As the weapon drove into the masked man's exposed chest, I could practically hear heads turning to hear the source of the scream. Erik writhed in silent agony as the blade was withdrawn. My plan was going precisely to schedule. That ballet brat had just been a jolt to get the phantom's rage pumping for revenge. I knew the stab was not lethal, just enough to cause much bleeding and temporary paralysis. All I needed was for the final piece to fall into place.

" Such a cooperative lad. Now, let's see if those nice friends of yours don't come running to your aid!" I cackled. It was heaven on earth to see the fool's blind eyes widen in horror. He bared his teeth, flailing out once more to try and hit me. I jammed the toe of my boot into his side. " Oh, did that touch a nerve? Yes, any moment now…" As he tried to curb the flow of blood from the wound, I leaned in to hear his curses.

" You bastard," He growled, " If you lay one hand, I swear to God, one hand, on either of them, it's your head on a platter."

This was definitely worth a guffaw. " What are you going to do about it, bleed on me?" The euphoria of domination returned when I saw his face fall when he realized that he was quite helpless to any of the de Chagneys. The moment of truth was coming, my time to do what I was supposed to do. I believe the term for my proposed action in later years would come to be known as political assassination. It was merely an added bonus if this terrible man were to die under the name of a serial killer.

As I contemplated the strategy one last time, footsteps suddenly sounded behind the wooden door. With a satanic grin, I mock saluted the agonized Erik and hid myself in the shadows.

Christine's POV

As I sprinted out onto the roof, a nightmarish image unfolded. With Raoul trailing behind me, I ran to Erik's side. The man was lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes rolling wildly. " Christine!" he grunted, his breathing labored, " Get out of here now! It's a tra-" he never got to finish, interrupted by Raoul's cry of surprise and the clash of blades between killer and target.

Sorry if this is confusing. Here is the plot in simple words:

An assassin is hired to kill one of the most powerful families in France, the de Chagneys, and poses as the phantom of the opera for protection. See, that was simple, wasn't it?