The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 1
Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.
A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.
—Paris, 1870—
The Paris Opera House was at the height of its prosperity. Queues went round the block when the box office opened to sell tickets. The wealthy and the nobility snatched up the expensive boxes, leaving the middle class to occupy the ground seats. Stellar reviews came from every show that was put on, with criticisms few and far between.
It was fairly strange that two young men would step from a carriage and look upon the Opera House with a decidedly proprietary eye when there was already an owner firmly in place. Nevertheless, the two young men did emerge from their carriage and gaze at the Opera House proudly as they walked up the front steps. An older man met them at the front door. The man's hair was white, and cropped elegantly short. He stood in an impeccable black suit, his arms held behind his back. A patch covered his right eye, but the two young men said nothing.
"Monsieur Slade!" the smaller of the two young men said cheerfully. He reached out and took the man's hand, shaking it vigorously. "It's great to see you again!" Slade's faint frown lessened slightly as the young men released his hand.
"The pleasure is mine, Monsieur Logan," he murmured.
"You might as well call him Beast Boy," the larger of the duo said in a rumbling, low voice. "Everyone else does."
"Shall I refer to you as Cyborg, then?" Slade asked wryly.
The duo could not have been more different. The smaller man was officially named Garfield Logan, but had been dubbed Beast Boy early in his twenty-five-year-old life. Though this nickname was largely due to his distinct connection to animals of all kinds, his appearance did play a part. His dark hair and skin had bizarre green tints to them, which made him look as though constantly on the verge of being sick. His ears were pointed, and his eyeteeth were unusually sharp. He was a cheerful fellow, quick to throw out a joke, no matter how lackluster.
The larger was a black man named Victor Stone, but he was known as Cyborg for his more unique features. He had been involved in many skirmishes and battles in his thirty years, the end result being the loss of an arm and a leg. While most people would simply go with the most basic of solutions and prosthetics—peg legs or learning to live without an arm—Victor had not been content. He was a mechanical wizard, creating a hinged leg that bent at the false knee and a passably human arm and a hand that could grip when properly manipulated. There were rumors that he hid a weapon of some kind in his false arm.
"Enough with the formalities!" Beast Boy laughed. "Give us the grand tour already!" Slade paused, looking about with his one blue eye. After a moment, he nodded and turned crisply on one heel.
"I suppose our new patron will have to find us inside," he said. "Follow me, gentlemen." He led them through the front door. The massive lobby was filled with the women employed to clean the Opera House. They scrubbed furiously at the marble floor, spots they had already cleaned polished to a mirror-like shine. Those that were not on their knees bowed low to the three gentlemen that passed by. The sounds of music and singing rang out from the theater, and Slade guided the two young men through the side passages that led to the stage.
"We have been hard at work rehearsing a new production of Hannibal for tonight's gala," he explained. "I am quite confident that you will find everything here perfect." He stepped to one side suddenly. Cyborg imitated him, but Beast Boy did not move quickly enough. He was nearly knocked from his feet as a girl tried to run by him and hit his side with her shoulder. She tried to stop immediately, but slid forward a bit further on her soft ballet slippers.
"I'm so sorry!" she gasped. Beast Boy steadied himself and looked up, fully prepared to accept the apology. He saw the girl—took in the sight of her long blonde hair and large blue eyes—and froze, his jaw hanging. She stared at his open mouth before reaching out and lifting his jaw with her hand.
"Mademoiselle Terra," Slade murmured. She looked at the man, bowing and smiling. "Aren't you late for rehearsal? Madame Dolan does not take tardiness lightly." The softly spoken words made the blood first drain from her face, and then flush her cheeks.
"Yes, Monsieur Slade," she said quickly. She turned and curtseyed to Beast Boy. "Sorry." She rushed away, her skirts flapping around her skinny legs.
"Who—who was that?" Beast Boy croaked.
"Terra," Slade answered. "One of the girls who live and study here under Madame Dolan."
"She's beautiful," Beast Boy whispered. Cyborg ignored the faraway look in his companion's eyes, clearing his throat loudly.
"You said Madame Dolan?" he asked.
"I may officially run the Paris Opera House," Slade said with a chuckle, "but Madame Kei Dolan is the one who makes our productions work. I merely pay the bills." They strode into the vast area of backstage, walking under level upon level laden with set pieces, actors, and stagehands. Slade would receive and return waves of acknowledgement and cries of greeting, and Beast Boy and Cyborg returned the curious looks they received with smiles and nods.
Slade stopped them when they stood in the wings of stage left, gesturing for the young men to draw close to him. They watched as a woman with astonishingly pink hair took center stage. She held up a severed head made of hollow plaster. Red liquid dripped convincingly from its neck, and the woman took in a deep breath.
"This trophy from our saviors," she sang out, "from the enslaving force of Rome!" The chorus advanced from upstage, the female portion singing loudly. In the orchestra pit, an older man with his white hair swept stylistically back conducted the musicians. He smiled sweetly at the woman standing in center stage, nodding and rocking on his toes in time with the beat.
Girls, wrapped in the costume of the slave, danced and pranced amidst those men dressed as soldiers and women in celebratory gowns. Beast Boy struggled to keep himself from waving at Terra when he saw her on stage, and Cyborg's curiosity was piqued when he saw a lovely young black woman. A girl with long, lusciously red hair remained in step despite the lost look in her bright green eyes. Slade saw where their gazes were directed and smirked.
"I see that you've noticed Madame Dolan's prize pupils," he said quietly. "You've already met Terra." He gestured to the black girl. "And that one has earned the nickname of Bumblebee in the dormitories." The girl noticed Slade and his companions, smiling brightly. Cyborg blushed and nodded at her. "But the favorite is Mademoiselle Starfire." He indicated the red-haired young woman.
"Starfire?" Beast Boy asked. "That's an odd name."
"No stranger than Madame Dolan's nickname, my good monsieur," Slade replied.
"And that would be?" Cyborg inquired.
"Chaos," Slade said simply. "The girls say that she keeps anarchy away from the theater, but then—young women rarely have astounding logic."
"Did their logic bring about miss Starfire's name?" Beast Boy asked.
"No, that was Madame Dolan's work. When the young lady was first brought here fifteen years ago—I believe she was only five years old—she couldn't speak a word of anything but her native tongue. Madame Dolan knew the language and taught the girl French. Her name, which only Madame Dolan is sure of how to pronounce properly, translates into Starfire."
The young men nodded as the chorus gave a final, resounding cry of, "Hannibal comes!" Before the conductor could tap his baton against the music stand and begin the next piece, a woman clapped her hands twice. She had been standing in the wings of stage right, unseen by the trio of men. She strode forward onto the stage. The conductor climbed from the orchestra pit, advancing on her.
"Chaos!" he snapped irritably. "Why are you stopping the rehearsal? I thought we agreed that this would be a full-run! Mademoiselle Jinx requested it specifically!" He smiled at the pink-haired woman, and she nodded to him without returning the smile.
"Your prima donna can wait, Monsieur le Blood," Chaos said with a smirk. "Monsieur Slade has been waiting patiently." She waved the aforementioned man forward, and he strode to meet her in center stage.
"Thank you, Madame Dolan," Slade said. "Monsieur le Blood, forgive me for interrupting." The conductor snorted and waved his baton. "Ladies, gentlemen—I know there have been rumors floating about regarding my retirement. There is nothing I regret more than my having to say that these rumors are true."
A great moan swelled out of the throats of most of those within earshot. The pink-haired woman, Jinx, merely nudged the side of the man standing dressed as Hannibal. Slade lifted his hands to bring about quiet.
"I would like to introduce to you your new managers," he said. He turned and beckoned the two young men forward. "Monsieur Garfield Logan, and Monsieur Victor Stone." Scattered applause rang out as the two young men bowed and nodded. "I would also like to introduce our new patron, but he—"
"Was running late." A young man with black hair and bright eyes jogged nimbly out from the wings. On the left breast of his black suit jacket was a patch embroidered with the shape of a bat. He stopped alongside Slade, holding out his hand to Cyborg and Beast Boy.
"Ah, Vicomte!" Slade said with a laugh. "Gentlemen, this is le Vicomte de Wayne: Richard Grayson."
"Please, call me Robin," the young man said. Cyborg reached out and took his hand.
"Only if you call me Cyborg," he chuckled. Beast Boy took his hand in turn.
"Beast Boy for me, thanks!" he said. "Le Vicomte de Wayne, huh? Didn't know that Bruce Wayne had a son."
"Only a ward," Robin replied. "Monsieur Slade—you were in the middle of introductions?"
"Indeed I was. Messieurs Logan and Stone, this is Monsieur le Blood, our conductor." The old man strode forward and bowed at the waist. He wore a black suit, the collar high and hiding all of his neck.
"If I may, sir, I would like to introduce our leads," he said simply. "Mademoiselle Jinx." The pink-haired woman walked forward and held her hand out to Robin. He gracefully kissed her knuckles, and she gave him the faintest of smiles. "Mademoiselle Jinx has been our leading soprano for five seasons now, and Monsieur Malchior our tenor." The man dressed as Hannibal came forward. He wore his hair long, and it was a strange silver color despite his thirty-five years. He nodded, a small frown marring his otherwise handsome face.
"Thank you, Monsieur le Blood," Slade murmured. The softness of his voice belied the sharpness of his words, and Blood frowned and closed his mouth. "Messieurs, allow me to introduce Madame Kei Dolan." The tall woman strode forward, and the three young men could not help but jerk in shock.
Her hair was black as ink, and shaggily cut. She wore tight black breeches, with an equally black shirt hanging free. The long sleeves of her shirt were loose, and the collar open almost scandalously wide. The real shock, however, was in her face. Thin lines on her right cheek met to form a cross, and blood-red eyes looked out from above a sharp-toothed smile. She held out her hand, and her fingernails were finely pointed. Robin took her hand and shook it, forcing himself to smile.
"I must beg your forgiveness for a final time," Slade said. "My train is, unfortunately, scheduled to leave within the hour, and I cannot miss it. Messieurs Logan and Stone, good luck. Ladies and gentlemen—au revoir." He bowed low, striding away amidst tumultuous applause and cheers. Robin followed him quickly, putting his arm around the older man's shoulders and speaking to him in a low voice.
"May we return to the rehearsal?" Blood demanded the moment the applause died away. "Unless our new managers have any special requests of us?" Beast Boy bent at the waist, smiling brightly at Jinx.
"I was hoping to hear that wonderful aria sung by Elissa in Act Three," he said. Jinx smirked and shrugged, combing her fingers through her hair.
"If my managers command it," she murmured. "Monsieur le Blood?"
"My diva." He went quickly to the orchestra pit, turning his focus to the young man at the piano. Two bars were played as an introduction, and Jinx began to sing.
"Think of me,
think of me fondly,
when we've said
goodbye."
The catwalks and upper levels of the Paris Opera House were crafted of fine wood. During performances, stagehands were forced to take extra care that their footfalls would not interfere with the sound of the music or the singers' voices. At that moment, with no pride but Jinx's at stake, the men and women had little interest to remain quiet. They milled about and muttered amongst themselves, alternately laughing and wincing at the notes Jinx missed.
Even if there had been utter silence in the theater, none would have heard the footsteps that came to a stop above the singing woman.
"Remember me
once in a while—
please promise me
you'll try."
Ears far sharper than most heard the failings in Jinx's song. There was certainly strength in her voice. One did not become a five-season veteran of the Paris Opera House without learning how to produce a powerful voice. Despite the strength, there were imperfections. She would miss notes, rising too high or dropping too low in her misguided and overpowering urge for showmanship.
"When you find…"
That the pink-headed little fool would be allowed to squawk and pose like the peacock she was while a truly great voice was stifled and silenced was infuriating.
"That, once
again, you long…"
Such a travesty was maddening. A bright red glow cut through the shadows, only unnoticed because the eyes the light flowed from were narrowed in rage.
"To take your heart—"
The prima donna's song was cut off by terrified shrieks from the ballet girls. She spun about in an attempt to discover what caused the screams. A backdrop crashed down on top of her, slamming her petite frame to the stage. As Jinx lay stunned, Malchior cried out and tried to lift the heavy backdrop.
"Mademoiselle!" Blood gasped. He dropped his baton and climbed onto the stage, joining in Malchior's fruitless attempts to free the woman.
"It's the ghost!" The ballet girls were utterly frantic, bouncing on their feet and grabbing at each other while shrieking the same thing: "It's the ghost!" Beast Boy and Cyborg tried to call the theater back to order, but their voices were lost amidst the noise of the girls and the two men trying to rescue Jinx.
"ENOUGH!" Chaos's booming command rang through the theater. The ballet girls fell silent and clustered together as Chaos strode swiftly forward. She took hold of one of the slack ropes connected to the backdrop. Wrapping the rope around one arm and taking it in both hands, she said, "You two take the other end!"
Blood and Malchior, so desperate to liberate Jinx from beneath the heavy thing, immediately did as she said. They grabbed hold of the other slack rope and heaved. The backdrop rose up, and Starfire ran to pull the stunned Jinx away. The young woman's touch seemed a stimulant, and Jinx scrambled to her feet. She slapped Starfire's hands away, turning to look into the upper levels. Her cheeks became lividly red, as though they had been struck forcefully. When a figure appeared, she pulled in a massive breath.
"MAMMOTH!" she screamed. The figure jumped, and the light revealed a humongous man. His face showed no real intelligence, and his blond hair was long and unkempt. He looked about, eyes widening when he saw the fallen backdrop. In an instant he was winding a gear, and the backdrop was lifted up and away. Stagehands worked furiously to secure it, and the man leaned over the railing to look down at the stage.
"What were you doing up there?" Jinx howled. "I swear to God, if you were drinking, I'll throw you in the river!" Mammoth cringed, unable to answer.
"Mademoiselle, please!" Cyborg said nervously.
"Calm down! Accidents happen!" Beast Boy paled at the fury in the glare Jinx gave to him. All those familiar with the woman shrank back, preparing themselves for what came an instant later.
"I will not calm down!" she bellowed. "I don't care if accidents happen! These accidents have been happening for three years! I thought that if that idiot Slade was gone, my new managers would stop this damned 'Opera Ghost!'"
"Mademoiselle, please!" Cyborg said again.
"No!" Jinx snapped. "No, no, no! I am sick and tired of this! Unless you get rid of this 'Ghost,' I'll not sing for you!" She stormed away, still red in the face. Faster than anyone expected of a woman in full costume, she was off the stage and out of sight. Her furious voice echoed back for a final shriek of, "Malchior!" The man looked at the managers with a sneer before striding away.
Blood gave a weak moan at their leaving, turning to press his forehead against the nearest support beam. Beast Boy and Cyborg stared at each other a moment before looking frantically about.
"Madame Dolan?" Cyborg asked. The woman in black was gone, and her absence made Beast Boy pale even more. He let out a long, low moan, which quickly grew into a frustrated shout.
"Where did Monsieur Slade go?" he demanded.
"China, monsieur," Terra said softly. Beast Boy choked, a tic developing in the muscles near his eyes.
"China?" Cyborg asked. "China?"
"Mademoiselle Jinx is going to come back, right?" Beast Boy wrung his gloves in his hands until they were wrinkled and unfit to wear. His eyes were wide when the nervous tic in his muscles did not make his eyelids twitch. "Right?"
"I doubt it, monsieur." The men looked up quickly as Chaos strode onto the stage. She carried in her hand an letter, already open. The red wax seal had come away in one piece, hanging from the flap of the envelope. Chaos's eyes remained on the letter, though she addressed the men. "No one can bring back the little prima donna when she gets in a fit like this. Besides, I have a note for you from the Opera Ghost."
"God in heaven!" Cyborg cried, his patience wearing thin. "You're all obsessed!" Chaos chuckled, holding the letter out. Cyborg took it in his hands, holding it before his eyes. The paper was solid black, and the letters were cut out cleanly in the shape of elegantly written cursive script.
"She welcomes you to her Opera," Chaos murmured.
"What makes you think that it's a woman?" Beast Boy asked, his eyes narrow and suspicious.
"Every time the girls tell me they've seen the Ghost, they say that the Ghost is a woman," she replied with a shrug. Beast Boy looked to Terra, frowning slightly at the nod she gave him.
"Well this woman is demanding that we leave Box Five empty for her," Cyborg muttered. "But what on earth does she mean by her 'salary?'"
"Monsieur Slade gave her fifty thousand francs a month."
"Fifty thousand?" Beast Boy snatched the letter from Cyborg's hands, scanning its contents. He saw the number and whimpered.
"Le Vicomte de Wayne is your patron now," Chaos said, nodding at the young man who stood utterly bewildered. "Fifty thousand would be nothing." Cyborg frowned and took back the letter. For a moment, he remained calm. When the moment ended, he began to rip the letter apart.
"This—is—insane!" he snarled, tearing the paper with each word. "We're not going to pay off this lunatic!"
"But Jinx won't come back if we don't do something to keep her safe!" Beast Boy protested.
"Who is the understudy?" Cyborg asked. Blood, who had been rather limp and dazed in his place leaning against a beam, stiffened and turned slowly about.
"How dare you!" he hissed. "How dare you insult Mademoiselle Jinx by suggesting that any one of these people can hope to equal her voice!"
"Starfire can sing the part." Chaos's simple statement made Blood flush from his neck to his hairline. He sputtered for a moment, trying to think of how to respond to such an insult. Chaos smirked at him and turned to Cyborg and Beast Boy. "She's been taking lessons."
"From whom?" Cyborg asked. Starfire swallowed and looked at her feet.
"I don't know," she murmured. Beast Boy groaned again, burying his face in his hands.
"We have to cancel a full house!" he moaned through his fingers. "A full house!"
"Let's at least hear her first," Cyborg muttered, shrugging his shoulders. "Monsieur le Blood." The older man closed his mouth and let out a hard breath through his nose. He shot the young woman a furious glare, but turned on heel and went back to the orchestra pit.
"From the top of the aria, then," he grumbled. "Two bars introduction." He continued to mutter under his breath for a few moments more. Starfire turned to face the empty amphitheater, swallowing again. Blood began to conduct halfheartedly, but the young man played the piano just as well as he had done for Jinx. Beast Boy and Cyborg gave each other weary, worried glances. Starfire glanced to Chaos, pulling in a deep breath when the black-haired woman nodded with a smile. The introduction ended, and Starfire began to sing.
"Think of me,
think of me fondly,
when we've said
goodbye."
It was unlike anything heard before in the Paris Opera House. The young men and women, unfamiliar with the great heights music could reach, were absolutely entranced.
"Remember me
once in a while—
please promise
me you'll try."
Even the veterans of the great place were amazed by the young woman's voice. She was an angel come to earth, somehow managing to put everything ethereal and beautiful in the confines of a sweet soprano's song.
"When you find
that, once
again, you long
to take your heart back
and be free—"
The red glow in the shadows faded away. Dark eyes watched and sharp ears listened, breath unable to be drawn while Starfire sang. The song carried everything else in the world away, leaving only its divine beauty.
"If you
ever find
a moment,
spare a thought
for me…"
The eyes closed, and a smile appeared.
—to be continued—