Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or anything to do with it…including the beautiful Gerry Butler.
A/N: "FINALLY!" Misty leapt up from her swivel chair. "I have finished my minion list, Gerry, so pay up." She approached the Gerry, who was curled up on his sofa, and held out a hand. The handsome Phantom reached behind the couch and produced a huge carton of goldfish crackers. Misty squealed appreciatively and threw herself down beside to him to snuggle and munch (on the fishies…not Gerry). At that moment, Captain Marianne stormed into the den, black cloak billowing around her.
"Authoress! I have messages and such for you," she announced. Misty nodded.
"First of all, this application for minionship just arrived."
Misty took the paper from Captain Marianne. She glanced at it once and leapt to her feet with a cry of dismay.
"SAVVY! Savvy can't be a minion!"
Captain Marianne looked taken aback, "Why ever not? She's certainly qualified. I could use her on my staff."
"Rather over-qualified, if you ask me," the Gerry observed as he read Savvy's application over Misty's shoulder.
"No, no, you don't understand…Is she here?"
The Captain nodded, "Yes. Shall I fetch her?"
"Send one of the socks."
Captain Marianne did so. "Oh and, there's a special delivery for the Gerry." The Captain tossed a package to the Phantom. He caught it before it landed on Misty's head. He glared at it apprehensively.
"I don't trust it," he said, eyeing the parcel as though he were silently daring it to bite him.
"What does the note on it say?" Misty mumbled around a mouthful of goldfishes.
"To Gerry, for your protection, Love Ms. Cellaneous."
"Just open it…the worst it could be is a love potion."
The Gerry did as he was told. There was no love potion inside. Instead, he found a strange lump of fabric, slippery as a snake and somewhat transparent.
"Wow!" Misty exclaimed. "It's an invisibility cloak! Now you can move around the house without being glomped."
The Gerry's turquoise eyes prickled with unshed tears of relief. Slowly, he turned and addressed Captain Marianne with, "Where is this Ms Cellaneous girl?"
"In the kitchen," Marianne replied. The Gerry nodded, put on his new cloak, and swept out the door.
At that moment, Savvy—bedecked in gypsy attire—appeared, "You called?"
Misty whirled on the girl. Though Misty was but 5'3" herself, she towered over Savvy's 4'11." "What on EARTH possessed you to apply for minionhood?"
"You said we could. You also said that anyone who applied would be accepted," Savvy replied coolly.
"But you can't be my minion!"
"Why not?"
"Because you and I are equals in all things. We always have been!" Misty hissed.
Savvy calmly wiped a fleck of spit from her cheek and said, "Are you saying that your minions are inferior to you?"
"No! No! It's just that they are at my command, like soldiers to a general. I can't command you!" Misty wrung her hands in frustration. Captain Marianne watched the exchange with obvious amusement.
"I'll simply have to find you a better position," Misty declared suddenly.
Savvy pondered her friend's point. All at once her mischievous face lit up with an idea. "How about the position of irritating best friend, who mooches off your private stash of Crush sodas and fishie crackers?"
"But you do that anyway."
"So make it official."
Misty sighed, "Very well." Magically, a badge appeared on Savvy's shirt. It was glinting gold in the shape of a stallion's head and set with orange topazes. The words Irritating Best Friend blazed across the stallion's neck. "Happy?"
"Very. Pass the fishies, would you?"
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A PLAN OF ACTION FINALLY EMERGES
"WHAT?" Cecily screamed, her voice echoing all throughout her cavernous lair. Pip and Que barely winced beneath their newsy caps. Her fury was no worse than they had expected. With all the caution of mice sneaking past a napping cat, the hobbits inched their way into their little cubbyhole.
The raven-haired heiress stormed and raged. How could she have been so stupid? Here she thought she had found her one chance at cracking M. Khan's tough shell—for how could he have resisted the pleading curiosity of Meg Giry?—and she had botched the whole thing by making herself seem like competition for the Persian's affections.
That last idea made her snort in disdain. Cecily was not prejudice against Nadir Khan because of his nationality…he was just a little too shall we say nerdy?...for lack of a better word. Cecily needed a man with crackling wit and a taste for fine brandy. Involuntarily, her thoughts drifted to Algernon Moncrieff and suddenly she found the cure for her problem.
In a whirl of sea green silk, she ran to her desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment paper and snatching up her pen. She began to scribble out a note, but stopped and regarded her materials. Determinedly, the young woman crumpled the paper and threw it in the wastebasket beside the desk. She also stowed her black ink. No…this letter needed to be done with extra care. With this in mind, Cecily reached into a different drawer and extracted a sheet of light blue stationary, a bottle of indigo-colored ink, and a vial of her favorite perfume.
She readied her pen and dipped in the deep blue liquid.
Dear Monsieur Moncrieff,
I have recalled a promise I made to you to spend an evening on the town in your company. Please do not think me too bold, but I wish to fulfill my promise by a night at the opera. Would tomorrow night's gala be convenient?
In your debt,
Cecily Cheney
She signed the note with a little flourish and topped it off with a spritz of the perfume. Carefully folding it and sealing it with the secret society's crest, Cecily called Pip and Que out from their hiding place and gave them the note for delivery.
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The next evening:
"I do hope supper is included in tonight's plans, my love," Algy said as he handed Cecily into the carriage. She was a vision in an opera dress of pale, early-morning blue, her black hair providing a magnificent contrast.
"Of course!" she quipped. The detective didn't look too bad himself. His evening suit was pressed and clean and fitted to his figure for once.
"Where shall we dine?" Algy asked as the carriage lurched forward.
"Oh, I thought the Café la Dynamite de Napoleon would be pleasant," Cecily replied. The look of horror on his handsome face was priceless and afforded the socialite a good laugh at his expense.
Neither one of them paid much attention to the activity on stage as they sat in Cecily's private box, which happened to be situated exactly opposite Box Five. Algy thought Cecily's decision to go to the opera might have something to do with her silly hunt for the Populaire's legendary haunts. However, he decided to let the matter be for the moment. For now, he was content to simply watch the lady beside him, taking in every detail of her profile.
Meanwhile, Cecily's mind was a tumult of thoughts and worries. Nervously, she twisted her program into a paper knot. Every now and then she stole a glance at Box Five. She swore she could see the shadow of a man in corner of the private box. Where are the girls then? she wondered. But that wasn't the only thing making her nervous. Cecily was very conscious of Algy's wicked blue eyes unabashedly studying her. Does he suspect something? She gave him a quick look and the blatant expression of admiration on his face dispelled that fear and replaced it with a strange flutter in her stomach.
At last the performance ended. Cecily didn't waste time applauding the detestable, bug-eyed leading lady.
"Come, M. Moncrieff," she cried, snatching Algy's hand and dragging him from their box and into the backstage area. The clamorous crowds of ballerinas, stagehands, singers, and patrons would have made it nearly impossible for Cecily to locate Meg Giry, but she had her sources. Earlier that day, Pip and Que had arranged for Kathryn and Jammes to bring Meg to the entrance of the practice room. And that's where Cecily found the petite blonde dancer, still dressed in her costume.
Meg stiffened when she saw the beautiful patroness approaching. She had not forgotten the words of the Raven and the Spirit regarding Nadir's faithfulness, but she had held onto to some suspicion. That is, until she saw the patroness leaning on the arm of a most handsome gentleman.
He must be her real suitor! Meg thought with relief. Perhaps the Phantom's companions were right after all. She began to relax.
"You must be Meg Giry," Cecily said, curtsying.
Meg made her an elegant curtsy, "I am."
"My name is Cecily Cheney. And may I introduce my escort, M. Algernon Moncrieff."
Meg and Algy exchanged greetings. The ballerina frowned at his accent, which seemed to amuse the dashing Englishman.
"My purpose in speaking with you tonight, Mlle. Giry, is due to a matter of some importance, that cannot be discussed here. Would you, perhaps, visit me at my house tomorrow for lunch?" Cecily said, hanging on Algy's arm.
Meg looked surprised by the request. "I believe that would be possible, Lady Cecily."
Cecily laughed lightly, "Oh, please, it is only Cecily Cheney. No titles I'm afraid. I shall send my carriage for you around noon."
The little dancer blushed at her mistake and nodded silently. The glowing patroness and her escort left after that, both laughing merrily as they waltzed away. At that moment, a small ballet brat approached Meg with an armful of pink roses and a note. The dancer smiled as she recognized Nadir Khan's peculiar handwriting.
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Noon the next day.
"Now what is it you wished to talk to me about?" Meg asked as she sipped a cup of sweet tea in Cecily's sitting room.
The black-haired girl glanced nervously at the door before answering. "Mlle. Giry…this is a very dangerous subject. I hope that I can trust you with its secrecy."
Meg's blue eyes went wide. She nodded dumbly.
"I am perfectly serious. Were certain…parties to discover what I am planning…the consequences could be disastrous."
"Contrary to popular belief, Mlle. Cheney, there are some amongst the corps de ballet that can keep secrets," Meg replied defiantly. She lifted her finely pointed chin.
Cecily grinned. She rather liked this impish girl. "Very well. The story I am going to tell you concerns the Populaire's very own Phantom of the Opera…"
Half an hour later, Meg was in tears, much as Cecily had been when the Gerry had told her of Erik's tragic tale.
"S-so, this Erik is our g-ghost?" Meg blubbered, gingerly drying her eyes with her napkin.
"Yes, he is."
"Then he has not yet s-succumbed to th-that terrible end?"
"Not yet…that is where the Raven and the Spirit come in."
Meg gasped, "Are they human, too?"
"Yes, they are two girls…no older than you or I. Their names are Anna and Brooke. I mean to play matchmaker for Brooke and Raoul de Chagny."
"De Chagny!" Meg cried. "B-but why him? Why not Erik? He's the one who loses at the end of that story."
"Ay, but you see le Vicomte is just as much a victim of Christine as Erik."
"How?"
"You tell me…what is Christine really like?"
"She's a gold-digging harpy! With no sense of loyalty except to herself," Meg nearly shouted. Suddenly, she understood. "Oh, so she's only flirting with the Vicomte to get his fortune then?"
"Exactly. Besides, I don't believe the Opera Ghost would take kindly to any direct intervention. As far as he and Anna are concerned, the only thing we can do is hope and pray."
"We?"
"Of course! You don't think I told you all that just to fill the time of day? What I need for you to do is to get M. Khan to deliver a message to Brooke."
Meg leapt from her chair in shock. "Do you mean Nadir has connections to the Ghost? And the Raven? And the Spirit?"
"Yes…he knew Erik before he was the Opera Ghost. I tried talking to M. Khan about it, but he's awfully protective of his friends. I say, my dear, you look pale!" Cecily watched with some alarm as Meg sank back into her seat, her rosy cheeks drained of their color.
"When he first asked me to supper…he took me somewhere…blindfolded…to a strange house…"
"You've been to the Ghost's house?"
"Yes," Meg whispered, her throat suddenly dry.
"That must have been while they were Perros," Cecily reasoned. She busied herself with the tea things, pouring Meg another cup and offering her some sliced fruit.
The dancer absent-mindedly nibbled on a piece of an apple. She came out of her stupor when a question came to her mind. "What are Anna and Brooke like?"
"Very eccentric…like Erik. But that's a quality too few people possess these days," Cecily chirped as she went about filling her own china cup. Meg arched a delicate eyebrow at the strange young woman's back and daintily sipped her tea…pinky out.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two days later.
Nadir Khan paced back and forth outside the ballet's practice room. He appeared more anxious than usual, his jade eyes darting here and there. He put a hand in his coat pocket and felt the little parchment note inside. He didn't know why he ever let Meg talk him into passing it on to Brooke Leroux.
The Persian had nearly died of shock when Meg confessed the details of her conversation with Cecily Cheney. Had he been a more vicious man, the daroga might have cursed the nosy socialite to an early grave for her obnoxious persistence. However, Cecily had indeed uncovered his weak spot when she enlisted Meg's help. The little ballerina, eager to save Erik and Raoul from Christine's evil clutches and thrilled to be a part of so spectacular a scandal, took her job seriously. She hounded her poor suitor for two days until he relented and accepted the note. Now, he only hoped that the Spirit and the Raven would turn up today. They usually delighted in spooking him.
"Hello, M. Khan," came Brooke's wispy haunting voice.
"Hello, Mlle. L'esprit," the Persian replied calmly.
"That's no fun. You're supposed to shriek like a girl!" came the throaty croak of the Raven.
Nadir stiffened slightly. "Listen, Mlles. There is something important you must know…"
"Raoul's a fop in real life?"
There was the dull thud of someone being punched. "Shut up, Anna."
Nadir rolled his eyes and hissed at the shadows, "I'm serious!"
"Sirius Black?...or white?"
"Anna! Shut. Up. Do you want to get caught?"
"All right, all right. Proceed, M. Khan."
"Thank you!" the irritated man exclaimed. He thrust the note in the general direction of the voices. "Meg asked me to deliver this to you, Mlle. Brooke."
A gloved hand shot of the darkness to snatch up the parchment. "How does Meg know?"
"Cecily Cheney told her. The note is from Mlle. Cheney. As much as I disapprove of the whole thing, I don't believe this poses any danger to you. Don't tell the Phantom."
"Yeah…that was the first thing on my to do list," croaked the Raven, sarcasm dripping. With that, the girls slipped away just as the corps de ballet began to file out of the room. Meg detached herself from a group of prattling girls and went to Nadir, allowing him to kiss her hand.
"Did you do it?" she whispered.
"Yes, only just now."
"Good. Now you can take me to supper."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Back at Erik's Evil Batcave of Doom.
Brooke frantically tore open Cecily's note.
"What does it say?" Anna hissed. They stood in the kitchen, huddled together; speaking in hushed voices so that Erik wouldn't over hear them.
"It's an invitation to go shopping," Brooke said flatly.
"What? When?"
"Tomorrow. At ten. We're supposed to meet her at her townhouse."
"Erik will never let us go," Anna predicted glumly.
"He will if you ask him," Brooke said slyly.
Anna gave her cousin a sharp glance. "Why do you say that?"
"Because he likes to pamper you and he'll do anything for you."
"I'm Anna…not Christine."
"Thank God for that. Just ask him will you? And leave out the part about being invited," Brooke said. She hurriedly stuffed the note into her corset and began on dinner. Anna muttered something incomprehensible, but vehement under her breath as she left the kitchen to seek out Erik.
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A/N: Misty turned from her computer only to discover an empty fishie carton and six empty Crush bottles lying at her feet. Savvy was stretched out comfortably on the Gerry's sofa, her pert nose stuck in The Hound of Baskervilles.
"I see you're taking your job seriously," the Authoress muttered, disdainfully kicking a bottle.
"Naturally…I don't wish to disappoint," Savvy replied, glancing up from her book with a wicked smirk on her lightly freckled face.
Misty rolled her eyes and called to Captain Marianne. The Captain leapt up from her squishily comfy beanbag.
"Post this in Minion HQ and tell the Gerry to meet me in my room," Misty instructed as she handed her friend a roll of parchment.
Captain Marianne stalked out of the den and into the foyer of the bungalow, where she had erected a thumbtack operated message board. She found her access to the board blocked by a minion.
"What do you think you're doing?" the Captain hissed.
Childofthewilderness turned to her commanding officer and answered in a bright, cheery voice, "I'm decorating!"
Captain Marianne looked at the bulletin board for the first time and saw that it was plastered with various POTO pictures and posters, Gerard Butler being the main feature. Sighing with frustration, Marianne shouldered the minion to the side and posted Misty's notice, carefully shoving the thumbtack straight through Emmy!Christine's forehead.
The notice read as follows:
Hello everybody!
I just wanted to say I love you all. You are, in my humble opinion, the best readership this side of the Dressing Room Mirror. Just a few quick notes.
One, sorry if any of you were confused by the "Questions Scene" in the last chapter. I borrowed it from a play called Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. It's an absolutely brilliant spin on Shakespeare's Hamlet. It's insanely well written and it's a total mind-bender. If you're interested, there's a very good film adaptation starring Gary Oldman and Tim Roth in the title roles available at most video places. It's worth checking out.
Anywho. Also, I'm going on vacation next week, so don't expect any updates.
Your obedient servant,
M.B.
Captain Marianne happened upon a very amusing scene in the kitchen. Ms. Cellaneous was surrounded by several of her fellow minions, all of them observing as she attempted to fix the blender. Suddenly, she was jerked away from the countertop by some invisible force and seemingly disappeared. The others yelped in surprise, but almost immediately, Ms Cellaneous reappeared, stunned and shaking.
"What happened?" Nota Lone chirped.
"It was the Gerry. He wrapped me up in the invisibility cloak I gave him and gave me a thank you kiss," Ms. Cellaneous whispered. The other minions squealed in excitement and jealousy and pressed her for details, while Shibbydm headed up an expedition to uncover the invisible Gerry.
Captain Marianne hollered above the noise, "Gerry, wherever you are, Misty wants you in her room!"