Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding our beloved Erik, except for the insistent desire to see him living in wedded bliss with his Christine...
Chapter 2: A Startling Revelation
As Raoul jumped out of the coach, he was suddenly thrown violently to the ground, with all the wind knocked out of him. A shot immediately rang out right over him, and he shook his head, stunned. As he recovered, he began to push off the body that was pressing down on him. The horses drawing the coach neighed and moved restlessly, but remained mysteriously in place. Ah, but the body was very much alive! The man who had pushed him down suddenly lifted his head, and the Vicomte was shocked to be face to face with Erik!
"You!" he screamed furiously. "I should have known this would be your doing!" He struggled with all his strength to free himself.
"Shut your mouth, fool! I have just saved your life! That shot was meant for you!" hissed Erik, as he jumped to his feet, immediately taking up a warrior's stance, and not a moment too soon, for a man suddenly rushed at him out of the darkness, brandishing a sword. Erik expertly stepped aside, allowing the momentum of the other's body to carry him forward. The man swept by him, almost falling. He somehow managed to keep his balance, however, and turned, growling, to lunge at Erik once again. The Phantom crouched low, and, sweeping his hand beneath the wildly flailing sword, hit the man right on the stomach. Raoul, still on the ground, saw the metallic flash of a knife as Erik's hand connected. The man doubled over, soundlessly, falling at Erik's feet.
Raoul stood up in gaping shock, and met Erik's blazing eyes.
"You, you..." he sputtered, "How could you...?" He had never seen someone killed so efficiently before. Indeed, he had never seen anyone killed in his presence before.
Erik, panting with bloodlust, glared at him. "Would you rather be the one lying dead at my feet, Monsieur?" He spat the words out, and Raoul tensed, fingering the undrawn sword at his side.
Just then they heard a scream from within the coach. Christine! At the same time, the horses suddenly bolted, sending the coach lurching forward. Both men reacted at once, leaping for the door of the coach. Raoul, who was closest to it, opened it violently, only to be met with the sight of another robber, pointing a pistol straight at him. He had no time to see anything else, for he instinctively ducked as the pistol went off. He heard Christine scream again, as Erik, behind him, let out a shout.
Everything happened in a blur after that. He was hanging on to the coach door for dear life, while a dark fury of madness flew over him, into the coach. A frantic scuffle started inside the coach, while it continued moving, gathering speed, and Christine abruptly grew still.
"Raoul!" screamed Erik, as he struggled with Christine's would-be assailant, "Climb on top and take control of the horses!"
Raoul, exerting all his strength, tried to lift himself onto the roof of the coach, but fell into it instead, on the seat right next to the unconscious Christine. Erik glanced back at him quickly. Turning back to the robber he was struggling with, he suddenly pulled back his fist, and slammed it into the man's face, knocking him out. Then, he pulled himself through the other door of the coach, holding on as best he could, while he stared ahead at the wildly speeding horses. He now lifted his head in song, as loudly, and yet, as melodiously, as was possible for him, under the circumstances. Raoul glared at him as if he had gone mad, but Erik steadily kept on pulling himself onto the roof of the coach as he continued to sing. Amazingly, the horses began to slow down, finally stopping completely. Erik was about to pull himself further up, to take over the reins, when the ruffian awoke, and suddenly grasped his legs, pulling him down and out of the coach. The man landed on top of Erik, who was momentarily dazed, but soon recovered. They began their struggle anew.
Erik managed to scream at Raoul, "The horses! The horses!"
Raoul first leaned over Christine, attempting to re-arrange her clothing. The beast who had entered the coach had had every intention of brutally raping her, taking advantage of the opportunity he saw when Raoul and Erik had been entangled on the other side of the coach. He had ripped her bodice, and her breasts lay exposed. Raoul did his best to cover them, averting his gaze as he did so. Then he swiftly leaped out of the coach, running over to hold the horses' heads.
Meanwhile, Erik continued to struggle with the potential rapist, who had now successfully gotten to his feet, drawing his sword. Erik was also on his feet, snarling like an animal. Sometime during the whole struggle, his mask had been torn off. His face, coupled with the snarling, had turned him into a formidable foe. The bloodlust was raging through him. He badly wanted to kill this man who had dared to paw at his beloved.
The man, apparently undeterred by Erik's frightening appearance, suddenly lunged at him with the sword, and Erik again deftly stepped aside. This time, he mysteriously put his hand into one of his pockets, grinning at the man, who had lost his balance, and toppled to the ground. Just as he was getting up, the deadly punjab lasso whistled through the air, settling neatly about his shoulders. The man saw Erik's face take on an expression of pure rage, his eyes bulging, and screamed in terror. Erik was about to flick his wrist, which would have immediately killed the robber, when another scream from the coach stopped him. It was Christine again! That was enough to make him lose his concentration for a precious second. The man again rushed at him, with the lasso still around his neck. He rammed into Erik, who was thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. The man hastily took the lasso off his neck, to wrap it around Erik's. He immediately began to tighten the noose. He and Erik struggled furiously until, abruptly, a shot rang out. Both men, momentarily stunned, ceased struggling, and lifted their heads.
Christine stood outside the coach, holding Raoul's pistol in both hands. She was pointing it directly at the robber's head. Raoul looked back, in shock. Erik gaped at Christine, not sure he was seeing what he was actually seeing. His Christine, with a pistol in her hands?
"Enough!" she now screamed, furiously. "You will cease this at once!" She motioned with one hand to the robber, while she held the pistol steadily, pointing it at him. Erik marveled at her. The hand holding the pistol was not even shaking!
"You!" she spat contemptuously, "You will get up, now!" To everyone's surprise, she pulled the trigger, firing at the ground immediately in front of the robber. The man, terribly startled, jumped up like a jackrabbit. Erik leaned back, licking his lips as he grinned like a wolf. This was going to be hugely amusing. A woman's ire, when aroused, could indeed be formidable, he had heard. Here was living proof, right before his astonished eyes. To add to his amazement, she stood there, with ripped bodice, affording him a most delectable view of her furiously heaving bared breasts...Her anger was too great, however, for her to take notice of this fact. Or perhaps, he thought, this had added fire to that anger...
"I should kill you right where you stand, you insolent viper, for daring to lay your filthy hands on me!" she hissed, with all the venom she was capable of. "But I think you would be better punished if I were to take away the instrument of your bestiality..." Here she adjusted her aim, pointing the pistol directly at the man's genital region.
"At this short range, dear sir, I would surely not miss," she drawled, gloating.
It was a frozen tableau. Erik smirked even as he felt a strange wetness oozing down his right arm, as well as a sting of sharp pain. Raoul did not move as he held the horses' heads, not taking his eyes off Christine, a Christine he no longer knew...The man said nothing, but a gurgling sound now came from his throat. He visibly started to shake.
"Well, now," continued Christine, enjoying the situation tremendously. "This is much better, indeed! I have turned the tables on you, Monsieur, have I not? It is now you who are trembling in fear!"
The man still could not speak. The pistol never wavered from its aim.
"I think I shall let you go just this once. Kindly throw your sword over to me, if you please."
The man slowly leaned down, retrieving his sword, and did as instructed.
"Now, Monsieur, I will give you the chance to escape with your life. Start walking!"
"Where...where to?" mumbled the terrified man.
Christine shrugged a delicate white shoulder. "Why do you believe it should matter to me?" she inquired, with a great show of indifference. "I suggest, Monsieur, that you instead consider expressing your gratitude to me, for allowing you to live!"
"Ye...Yes..." mumbled the man.
"So walk!" she screamed at him. "Leave us at once!"
"But...but..." he stuttered, "I need a horse, Mademoiselle...how far can I get on foot? The nearest town..."
"That is not my concern, Monsieur!" she screamed, as she kept the pistol firmly trained on his nether region.
"I would do as the lady asks, my dear fellow." Erik put in, lazily, from his vantage point on the ground. "An armed woman can be extremely dangerous, as you can see!" He tried to keep his face straight as he said this. He wanted to laugh out loud, in spite of the increasing pain in his arm.
Without another word, the man suddenly turned and fled.
Erik burst into raucous laughter. He was forced to lie flat on the ground now, for his wounded arm was throbbing painfully. He could not stop laughing, even as he felt the blood continuing to flow, to completely soak his coat sleeve.
"Oh, Christine!" he chortled, while Raoul still stood unmoving, next to the horses. "Christine, Christine! You were magnificent, my love!" His head went back in laughter. "Ahhhhhhh!" he suddenly cried out, as the pain in his arm became almost unbearable.
Christine came out of her furious trance as she heard him groaning. She rushed to his side, dropping the pistol with a now trembling hand.
"Erik! You are hurt! Erik!" She reached him just as he lost consciousness.