Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Phantom of the Opera. Only original stuff is mine.

AN: Here he is, the other Phantom! No, it's not some strange crazy-man dressing up like Erik; it's a completely different guy with a deformity. Unfortunately, he's not a nice person, thus his mean thoughts and dislike for everyone, including phans. They aren't my opinions about phans, considering I am one, but consider his POV for a moment on the whole thing. For more information on the new Phantom (in case I forgot something), please leave a review once you're finished. Thanks!

Chapter 4: Watching From the Darkness:

For longer than he cared to remember, he had lived beneath the glory of the Opera House. While many moved through its marble-and-gold ballrooms and galleries, he had lived underneath it, savoring the darkness of the caverns and the peace that it brought. He had suffered only a few years in the light, after his parents had brought him out into the sun to experience what other children did. The other children had laughed, screamed, and thrown their toys at him to make him leave them alone.

"Damon," he parents had called him upon birth, naming him dramatically for the dark night that he had been born. "Monster," was what the other children had called him upon seeing his face at the playground. Since then, he rarely called himself by his birth name, or any name at all. He kept out of the light and staying in the darkness; the shadows and peace were bliss and all he could ever want.

Today, though, something had brought him up from the darkness. He hadn't seen the audience chamber in well over three years, and it was about time he did so, before he forgot that there was beauty in the world that did not shun him the way people did. The actual theater part of the Opera House was also a place for peace when there wasn't a show being performed or rehearsals going on. Thanks to the listening devices he had installed in the manager's office, he always knew the schedules and could therefore come up and enjoy the artistic atmosphere without the risk of being caught.

He had thought to merely stay there for a few moments, to look around before going back to his underground home to work on another dark symphony. The gift of music had been something his father had given him, encouraged in it by both his mother and father before they had perished in a car accident many years ago, right before his 13th birthday. An unlucky number, 13, and was doubly so, since it had taken away the only two people in the world who had loved him; not even his grandparents, the ones who had been left to take care of him, loved him. They had only taken him in because of the money his parents left him, appearing to be good people until he refused to let them "manage" his money until he was of age.

Cast out of his grandparents' home the same day he had arrived there, he had made his way to the Opera House, intent on finding the basements that he had read and heard about. His father had told him that their forefather, Charles Garnier, had built the Opera House, and had said in his journals that beneath it lay an underground labyrinth of caverns and caves, most large enough to house a man. Great-grandfather Charles had also mentioned that a man, a man with a hideous face, really had once lived there, calling himself the Phantom of the Opera, or the Opera Ghost. Of course, the Ghost was long gone, but the caves still remained, open for the taking as no one wanted to actually go down there and change anything to them.

Keeping that story in mind, he had made his way to the Opera House and snuck in, thinking that, if one man over a century before had lived there with little difficulty, then it could be done again. After hours of searching and encountering numerous traps that had fallen apart over time, he had finally located the caverns he had been searching for. There were many pieces of rotting furniture, cloths, and even an old organ, all indicating that someone had, in fact, lived there. This gave him hope, and, since no one was obviously going to challenge him in living here, he decided to clean out the place and set up his own place in the world.

It took quite a while to clean the space out, but he managed to do it. Besides, the physical stress of it kept him busy, and he had always been strong, even as a child. He could have easily used the inheritance his parents had left him to hire someone else to do it, but being able to use his hands for something proved to help make him stronger than he had been before. It took weeks, probably months, since he lost all sense of time down there, but it had been worth it. The place was completely empty of all of the rotting debris, and after spending a good sum of money planning for a secret weekly food delivery and purchasing new furniture to move down there himself, the place was worthy of dwelling in, if only for a while.

However, a few things were lacking. He desperately wanted a bathroom with a toilet that flushed, and after finding the designs on the Internet on how to do it himself, he managed to get one up and running through trial-and-error. Electricity was another matter, but after purchasing a good-sized generator and installing it in the caves, he was able to hang lights and have constant light to see by. A dehumidifier was purchased as well, and with it, he managed to keep the dampness from destroying the music he managed to create with the organ he had restored with his own two hands.

Today he had hoped to take a short break from his routine of composing dark workings in either rock or classical music. The organ was a sort of release, but so was the electric guitar he had sitting beside it in the main room. However, there were days when both of them could do nothing for him, and it was during these days that he visited the world above for inspiration or to just let his thoughts go for a little while. Instead of finding relief and peace, though, he discovered something else entirely.

After taking his place in the space of Box 5, he watched as a young woman emerged through a door, a security guard on her right as he led her inside the chamber. Amazingly, she was allowed to remain alone in the theater and explore it at will, her head twisting and turning as she stared at the ceiling, the chandelier, and the patron boxes, snapping photographs as she went. He made certain to remain hidden, as he had an aversion for cameras of any sort. Eventually, the girl headed for the stage, using a side stairway to get on top of it and taking center stage, her camera going off every few moments. When she stood in the center, she opened her travel bag and produced a portable music player and a speaker. Hooking both of them up, she set the speaker on the stage floor before staring out into the audience and pushing play on the music player.

To his displeasure, the music from the Phantom of the Opera spilled from the speaker and into his ears. That music had been a constant pain in his side for years, and he was amazed that the guard had let the girl in here when she was who she was. He knew for a fact that Phantom admirers, or 'phans' as they called themselves, had become a problem in the Opera House in recent times. In fact, the problem had emerged just after he had moved in twenty years ago, which happened to be when that musical about the Phantom had come out. Not long after that, he had noticed more voices above, all of them chattering with various staff members about whether people truly thought the Phantom had really existed or was merely a story created by an author and, later, a composer. Considering the fact that his home had once belonged to someone else, most likely the Phantom himself, there was no doubt that the legends were true. However, he was not going to tell anyone else that!

At first, the trickle of 'phans' had been small, but as time progressed, more and more came to the Opera House, and more and more desired to see the hidden caverns. For the most part, the managers refused to put people's lives in danger, considering the slippery floors, rodents, and spiders living in most of the caves. He had taken the Phantom's former cavern, one that could easily be isolated from the rest, and had set up stone doorways to confuse and deter 'phans' from finding his home. The huge iron gate that had once been in place had been removed and another put in its place, which was also covered in a thin layer of stone to look like the end of a channel.

Watching the girl, he had been ready to leave when he realized that her eyes were closed, apparently lost in the music that was playing. The girl had been playing the soundtrack for only a few moments, but she looked lost in a dream. From her posture, he could see that she was blissfully unaware of anyone or anything except the songs emerging from the speaker. It was enchanting to watch her for some reason, and he liked the fact that she wasn't squealing with excitement or pleasure from the fact that she was, to quote most of them, "here in the Opera House, oh, my God!"

No, this young woman, not an empty-headed phan-girl; she truly appreciated the Opera House and the music she was listening to. It was that appreciation for music that attracted him to her. Most girls played the music and got a dreamy look on their faces as they imagined themselves in the storyline of the musical, book, or, later on, the film. It drove him mad sometimes, and he was thankful when the newest owner of the Opera House had ordered the guards to "kindly escort" the more annoy phans out to the lobby to make their noises and act out their fantasies.

However, this woman was pleasant to watch. She was quite pretty, with long brown hair and a curvaceous figure that was quite lush to look at. Oh, she was no exquisite beauty like some of the girls that drifted through the Opera House, but she had a spark inside of her, a joy for life and fun that he had seen in very few others. Her face had a sort of pureness in its expression, meaning that her spirit was free of the cold jadedness that so many others bore. She was a rarity on Earth, a person whose expression told what her heart was feeling without putting on a fake one to cover up what she was really thinking.

And so he watched her, observed what she was feeling as she listened to the music surrounding her. Joy, pain, longing, all of these emotions crossed her face as the music played, as though she were living someone else's life. For some reason, it intrigued him to watch such feelings flow through another human being, and he very much wished to end his self-inflicted isolation and speak to her. But before he could, someone else beat him to it. From behind the red curtain emerged a man with half a mask on the right side of his face!

Never before had he seen another person in a mask, except for in books or paintings he brought down to decorate his home. He himself wore a mask, but only because it made him feel safe to have it on. The only people who had seen him without it had been his parents, and they were long dead; since then, he'd worn it of his own choosing. It was his own preference to see his masked face to his bare one in the mirrors of his house; the only time his face was revealed was in order to help him to write the twisted music that came from his mind. But this…this was the first time he had ever seen another human being wear such a device willingly and casually!

The stranger startled the girl by jumping directly into the middle of the title song of the musical, his beautiful voice taking on the part of the Phantom in the Phantom of the Opera song. Her eyes opened in surprise as she stared at the man on stage as he sang to her, his voice enchanting her to the point of hypnosis. She followed him with her eyes, and once the song was over, the stranger reached out and turned off the music player. Then he began singing Music of the Night. Watching the man with envy, Damon scowled as his rival wooed the woman he had his sights on. The stranger's voice rose to a crescendo, his voice ringing out across the audience chamber and echoing back to its origin, the note ending just before he whispered something that caused the girl to faint into his arms.

A murderous fire formed in his chest, the need to race onto the stage and destroy his rival almost overpowering him. To his dismay, his beloved was carried backstage out of sight, the red curtain blocking his view of what was happening. Biting back a curse, he frantically thought of what he should do next. Should he wait for them? She might wake soon, or she might wake later. It was a hard decision, but he resolved to use the secret passageways that he had discovered and reopened. They had previously been locked and sealed up to prevent thieves and such from entering and robbing the Opera House, but now they were his to use. Slipping through the hidden doorway of Box 5, he raced backstage to see what was being done, tucking himself into the darkness of the rafters to keep out of sight while he watched. He posed himself directly above the heads of the ones he was looking for, focusing hard to hear what was being said as well.

To his horror, his lady awakened and was soon smiling up at the stranger who had caused her to loose consciousness. The masked man, in turn, was hovering over her side, his hands caressing hers in a loving manner.

"It would please me very much to know the name of the angel before me," the strange man said, keeping his voice soft and soothing.

"Um," the girl said, staring into his eyes. "I'm…Alisa Chapman."

"Alisa," the stranger repeated, though it sounded like a sigh. "A lovely name for a lovely girl."

A lovely name, indeed, and a very useful one to know. At least now he knew the name of the one who possessed his heart. The difficult part would be to get her to look at him without fear, disgust, or hatred. Still, if this lovely girl named Alisa was looking at this stranger with kindness and understanding, then having her get to know another disfigured man would likely have little difficulty.

For another few moments, he stood above them, listening to them talk in voices too soft to hear from his position. He watched as Alisa smiled up at the other man before crying out in dismay at discovering who the man who had sung to her was; the information nearly making this hidden observer fall off of his perch above their heads.

The man currently sitting below him was none other than Erik Garnier, owner, patron, and genius manager of the Paris Opera House. Everyone knew who Monsieur Garnier was; he was wealthy beyond comprehension, well-respected, and had hoards of women drooling after him and his money. Damon had moved in not long after Garnier had purchased the Opera House; he also always bought a newspaper along with his food deliveries to keep up with the local news. Truth be told, this multi-millionaire was on most of the society pages, though he only stood with old friends (usually male) or completely alone. He didn't understand why the wealthy man wanted none of the women who flung themselves at his feet, as it didn't make any sense.

'Nevermind that!' he snapped to himself. 'Pay attention, you idiot!'

Turning his full attention back towards the couple, he clenched his fists in anger.

"Would you…join me for dinner this evening, my dear?" he heard Monsieur Garnier ask.

"I'd love to," Alisa replied with a smile.

Fighting back his anger, he watched the two pack up Alisa's belongings and exit the stage and audience chamber, leaving him alone once more. Snarling, he flourished his cape and headed down towards his home.

Sealing the tunnels behind him gave him a sense of security. Knowing that the people above had no way of finding him and throwing him out of his sanctuary was calming, allowing him to focus on more important matters. Today, his thoughts were full of Alisa and Erik Garnier.

"Damn him!" he snarled, pulling off his thick cape and tossing it into his bedroom to land on the floor.

He didn't know why he had the cape as part of his outfit, as it was so old-fashioned and resembled something a super-villain wore. The rest of his outfit consisted of black materials cut in a modern style with everything from his pants to his shirt kept dark so that, should he be seen or discovered, he could easily blend into the darkness of the caverns. However, the cape seemed dramatic, and swishing it around gave him a sort of enjoyment that was rare in his life. Besides, it made him laugh to twirl it around himself as he walked through the secret tunnels, feeling like a living shadow instead of a man.

After dressing himself in a comfortable black pajama ensemble, he found himself before a mirror, gazing at the horror that was his face. Hesitating a moment, he slowly reached up and removed the mask from the left side of his face. Unlike the man above, who had at least half of a normal face, Damon was completely monstrous in appearance. All of his features were composed of twisted flesh, but was more so on the left side, which was why he covered it up with the left-sided half-mask he had found in the trash of an out-of-business costume shop. Sighing, he looked himself over.

The left part of his face was a mess, looking as though someone had dried the skin and molded it to the skull, and was practically transparent enough to see the bone underneath. The right half of his face wasn't pretty to look at, either, but he thought it tolerable. The flesh was thicker, but the skin was folded over from under his eye down to mid-cheek, and his skin a blotchy-red, looking raw and uneven. The odd thing was that, despite his parents having lily-fair complexions, the entirety of his face was an oddly dusty, yellowish-black color, looking as though it had been lightly sprinkled with a mixture of dirt.

'The face of a demon,' he thought angrily. 'The only good thing about my existence is that the rest of my body is what society considers 'normal.''

His parents had been horrified at his appearance since his birth, he was sure. As an only child, he had been the baby they had hoped for, though he came out a mangled, twisted creature instead of the perfect cherub they were expecting. The doctors could not explain why baby Damon had emerged the way he had; perhaps an illness his mother had had while pregnant, or something bad she ate while carrying her child had caused it. Or perhaps it was a fluke in his 'genetic makeup,' as they put it.

Either way, he had eventually been accepted by both mother and father, and he had been loved. They had been quite wealthy, and had spoiled him with toys, musical instruments, and books to learn from as they did not want to expose him to the horrors of a playground. Eventually, though, he had wanted to play with other children, but after being called a monster and chased from the play area, he had once more returned to the loneliness that was his parents' estate. He was kept happy and out of sight until his parents' fatal car accident, which had occurred one evening as they were returning home from a party. He was left on his own after that, though he had their money to support himself.

'But if Alisa could be attracted to a man with half a face, it is a small step towards wanting a man with a fully disfigured one!' he thought with hope as he replaced the mask and turned towards his electric guitar.

And she would love him. Oddly enough, he had never wanted female companionship before, but now that he had seen someone be attracted to someone for inner beauty, he wanted it. To have Alisa close to him as he slept and to have her sit there to talk with was something he was very much looking forward to. He would merely have to keep an eye open for her. After all, if she was the new interest of Erik Garnier, then she was sure to be around the Opera House, wasn't she? After that, it was only a matter of time before he wooed her away to his underground home…forever.

AN: Creepy, isn't he? Please review and let me know what you think.