AN: I hope you like this chapter!

Chapter two

The Phantom of the Opera stared at this intruder from his box, box five. Dark eyes blazing, he carefully watched this woman as she stood in the darkness, her eyes wandering though the theater. This was the first time a person had ever dared enter his opera house.

Very brave, he thought and very foolish.

The phantom's wrath was harsh upon those who entered his domain, his opera house since its closing. And that night he was not in a good mood. He had just returned from the roof and was still in a rage regarding painful memories. The sight of this woman made him livid; especially when the sight of her dark wavy brown hair and pale skin brought back even more unwanted memories of another woman. Despite his irritation he kept his calm, and examined her from afar. He could tell she was cold when she rubbed her arms and shoulders. She was clad in a men's frock cloak that reached her thighs, a brown skirt that resembled an empire dress and as she walked, he could see that under her long garb were rugged Hessian boots. This woman's dress, obviously layered to keep out the cold did not hide her long willowy from; neither did it hide her graceful pallid neck and strong chin. Dark cinnamon hair fell before dusky autumn eyes and dark brows, in unruly curls.

Moving quickly he attempted to avoid her gaze but with no avail. Her head whipped around just enough to catch sight of him darting out of the box.

"Who is there?" He heard a hollow voice call. By habit and instinct the Phantom took notice of her voice. It was a deep velvety voice like a hoarse flute. Not a voice for singing.

He was growing incessantly tired of this woman. He could tell she was poor and stubborn and would not leave any time soon.

Perhaps she will be good target practice… he thought in his anger.

Manon, fuming and bothered, whipped around only to meet heated eyes that mirrored her own. A towering man in a black cloak stood before her and in his hand a long sword with a hilt that resembled a skull. Yet, it was not the sharp saber that fazed her but the glowing white mask that rested on the right side of his face.

The woman turned so swiftly that it caught him off guard. Her eyes were blazing as she faced him. For a moment a look of surprise crossed her face but immediately disappeared to once again be replaced with rage.

In the next moment the phantom could not decide whether he was more surprised at the fact that she, herself pulled out a glinting saber of her own or the fact that she knew how to use it. He had not noticed the sword under her long frock cloak.

Regaining his composure, the Phantom was the one to move first when he lunged at her. Taking his offensive as an indication that he wanted to harm her she fought back furiously, swinging at him again and again with furious strokes.

"Who are you?" He heard her breathe, teeth bared. He didn't answer her. "Are you trying to frighten me?" She said as he unsuccessfully thrust at her again.

"No, I'm trying to kill you."

The Phantom could not believe this, he was infuriated and humiliated. He was fighting a child! A girl! And he was starting to break sweat. This woman was steadfast and if she was tiring, she hid her exhaustion it well.

It was suddenly that Manon moved forward and with a swiping movement knocked this Phantom's sword from his hand. Without a beat, as if he had been expecting it, grasped her wrist with a gloved hand and threw her to the ground. Manon gasped as her head hit the solid leg of a seat. Her head was still spinning as she got to her feet, barley noticing the warm crimson blood seeping from her brow. She lunged at him, throwing a blow at his masked head. He was far too quick for her; he ducked her fist, grabbed her shoulder and struck her with his wrist. She fell to the ground.

He strode towards her and tightly grasped her throat, his lip curling into a wicked smirk. "Are you frightened now, you insolent harlot?" he sneered through his teeth. Her hands were frantically tugging at the hand that held her throat, yet her eyes were not full of fear but determination and vengeance. He felt her start to tremble under his hand; she was gasping now and yet her face showed no sign of fear. Her brown eyes bore into his. He had not seen such defiance, such audacity in a woman before. Through his mind edged his hand to tighten, to squeeze just a bit harder and take her life, another voice, not from his mind but from a soul of a distant past told him otherwise. Grunting, he flung her to the ground and she lay there, coughing and gasping for air.

She tried to stand but her head spun and she fell back to her knees kneading her throat. The woman looked up at him with abhorrence, brown eyes smoldering, blood running from her brow and lip. Their eyes bore into each others for a few moments. And with that, The Phantom of the Opera retrieved his sword and disappeared into the darkness leaving Manon to lick her wounds.

Yay! Done with the second chapter! Sorry it is so short. I hope I can gather enough strength to write another chapter! Your reviews will help! (Sneaky aren't I?) So review! Thanks.