The Phantom was sliding through the hallways behind the opera, not going anywhere in particular, when a sudden horrendous screech pierced through the air. The sound familiar and knocking the Phantom for a loop, he stopped somewhere beside the balcony
to the ballroom of the opera house. It was an odd spot; the ballroom was connected to the entryway of the opera house itself and when it had been built, the designer neglected to connect two pieces of wall together fully. As a result, the Phantom
could carefully monitor the comings and goings of the opera's population and its patrons, yet they had no way of knowing he was there. It had been useful in the past, and he was glad to be making use of it again.
Misa Amane was storming into the ballroom now, her face twisted into a mask of fury. Kira was trailing obediently behind her, looking almost bored. Takada and Mikami, who had been discussing the letters from the Phantom as they walked, had stopped on
the stairway in order to stare incredulously at her as she stomped up to them.
"What is the meaning of this!" She shrieked, her question more a demand. Mikami looked to Takada helplessly, but the woman held her ground and simply raised an eyebrow in the face of the blonde's temper tantrum.
"The meaning of what, Miss Amane?" She asked coolly.
"This!" Misa shook a parchment out, then held it in front of her face. "'Mistress Amane, I am more than gleeful to announce that, following one Nathan Rivers' introductory performance in our last production of 'Hannibal', you are no longer
under contract at Whammy's Opera House. In simplest terms, madam, you have been replaced. I bid you a good day, Your Obedient Servant, Monsieur le Phantom.'" Misa nearly threw the letter on the ground, looking furious. Her voice had been shaking
in anger as she read, and now her eyes blazed with that same passion.
The Phantom could almost appreciate the look; after all, Misa Amane had passion about the theater, once, and she had been very good from what he could remember. But then she became too accustomed to fame and the spoils that came from being the star of
the opera, and her art suffered. It was one thing he swore would never happen to Near, not if it was something he could avoid.
And he'd missed what had happened; suddenly the Vicomte had arrived, looking more furious than Misa.
"I demand you tell me where Nathan is!" He was yelling. His face was red, and the lighting inside the opera house was doing something strange to his hair; he moved one way and it was bathed in gold, his head tilted the other and was a fiery
crimson. His hands were clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"We aren't sure- - -" Takada was saying, but the Vicomte was having none of it; he hefted up a vase of flowers from a side table and hurled it at the wall. The vase shattered, splashing water and flowers everywhere, the sound making Misa scream
again and step back into Kira. Even Takada took a step back, nearly walking straight into Mikami's shoulder.
"What do you mean you aren't sure?" The Vicomte yelled. The Phantom was taken aback by the furious tone and volume of his voice. It was so unlike the man in his previous sightings; he was nearly a different person in his anger, and all the phantom
could think about was how Near managed to attract two people with fiery tempers to him. The boy was so calm and stoic, he mused as the Vicomte shouted abuse at the managers, perhaps that's why they were drawn to him. It would figure that whomever
would be attracted to Near would be his complete opposite in personality.
They were all shouting loudly at one another about their letters, each angered about the contents of them. The Vicomte seemed to believe that the managers were hiding Near for themselves, unwilling to believe in the Phantom of the Opera and arguing with
Mikami. Misa was screeching at Takada, who simply closed her eyes against the blonde's voice and rubbed at her temples.
All fighting ceased when Lawliet appeared, Linda following close behind him. He took a moment to observe the fighting, and approached once there seemed to be a lull in it.
"Lawliet." Mikami had never sounded more relieved to see the ballet teacher. Lawliet regarded him coolly for a moment, not saying a word. Linda was clinging to his back, looking frightened at the very sight of the Vicomte. "Any news?"
"I have a note." He said quietly; all four of them groaned, Takada even burying her face in her hands at the mention of the paper. Mikami made to grab it, but Lawliet kept it gracefully out of his hands as he cleared his throat and read, "for
the managers: you two have been given many opportunities to run my theater properly, and you have ignored them all. I shall give you one final chance."
"Who does this person think they are!" The Vicomte exploded. Lawliet shot him a stern look, and he retreated. The managers looked irritated as well, though they had better sense then to interrupt Lawliet.
"I have returned Near to you. I would ask that, in the upcoming production of our Il Muto, you will cast him as the Countess. If you simply must hire Miss Amane back, I would ask that she be given the role of the Pageboy."
"The insolence!" Misa cried immediately, her bottom lip trembling. Kira placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into it as much as he would allow. Over her shoulder, he shot the letter a venomous look, one that made its way to
the managers.
"If you need a reason to do so, I only ask that you compare Near's talent to the screeching of Miss Amane's. Now, as this is your last chance, I have high expectations that you will follow my instructions. If not, you will find yourselves regretting
that final decision immensely. I remain your obedient servant, Monsieur Le Phantom."
"This is absurd!" Misa stomped her foot. "Near, why is it all about Near!" Kira released her shoulder as she whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at the Vicomte. Her face was rosy with anger, her eyes glinting and her voice
lined with warning. "I bet you were the one who wrote the letters!"
"Excuse me?" The Vicomte shouted back.
"It has to have been you!" Misa yelled. "Near wasn't missing, his lover took him after the finale and now he's pushing Near to take my spot because he finds the opera!"
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" The Vicomte crossed his arms and glowered. "I wouldn't dare kidnap Nathan, and my continued patronage to the opera house doesn't have anything to do with him!"
"You liar!" Misa made to slap him, but Lawliet caught her arm quickly. She shot him a betrayed look and yanked her hand away, turning so that her nose was in the air.
"Nathan's back." The Victome seemed to remember, and he turned to Lawliet looking nearly breathless. "Can you take me to him? I want to see him."
"I thought it best that he was alone for the moment." Lawliet said sternly.
"He needs rest." Linda added, the first she'd spoken so far. "He looked really shaken up. Well, as shaken as he can look."
"Quiet, Linda." Lawliet snapped, the damage was done. The Vicomte looked murderous, and his voice had gotten much louder; it was now echoing off of the walls surrounding them, and even the Phantom cringed away from the opening.
"I demand to see Nathan. Take me to him now!"
"You're in no position to be making demands like this, Vicomte." Lawliet was saying calmly. "Near needs his rest, because we will be putting on Il Muto soon and if he is to play the Countess- - -."
"I've had enough!" Misa stormed away, Kira and the rest of the group watching as she shouted abuse at the theater, the managers, Lawliet, and the Phantom on her way out. There was a moment of semi-silence, with only her shrieks in the background,
until Kira spoke up.
"Far be it from me to tell you two how to do your jobs." He said smoothly. His voice was calm compared to Misa's, a cool ocean breeze compared to her violent thunderstorm, but the undercurrent of a threat was heard as he spoke. "But my
last performance was out of a grudging respect to Whammy and the work of the opera house." His gaze was sharp and calculating as he turned to Mikami and Takada. "My wife and I are a packaged deal. I will not perform if she does not. And
she will not be in this opera if she is not given the title role."
"You cannot honestly expect us to put her as the Countess!" Takada sighed and rubbed her temples. She seemed to do that a lot, the Phantom noted. She really wasn't suited for managerial work, was she? "This opera ghost has a point. Near
would be a much better fit than she." She said the words as if they were vile, her agreement with the Phantom's assessment of his prodigy, but she said it.
"Be that as it may." Kira shrugged. "You can afford to replace Misa, you have Near as her understudy. But, much like my wife before Whammy retired, I have none. As easy as it was to replace her, will you find it so easy to do the same for
me?"
"You would leave Whammy's to follow your wife?" Mikami sounded vaguely horrified at the prospect, and it rose to cover his face when Kira shrugged almost helplessly.
"As previously stated, I will not perform without my wife." Kira shrugged a shoulder. "Do what you will with the information. But who will keep this theater running; the ghost, or its managers?" He strode after his wife, and Takada
and Mikami looked at each other in his wake.
"It is prudent to listen to the Phantom." Lawliet offered quietly.
"Miss Amane, wait!" Takada cried, walking briskly after the retreating performers. Mikami followed her suit; Lawliet groaned, because the Vicomte turned to him instead of going after Misa and Kira.
"This opera ghost truly exists?" He asked. "Nathan spoke of some sort of Angel."
"I have duties to attend to." Lawliet said as a means of escape. The Phantom, torn, followed the ballet teacher and Linda as they headed back down to the man's office. The Vicomte followed after him and the Phantom, torn between wanting to following
the managers and going for Lawliet, hesitated long enough to hear parts of the muted conversation from the entryway.
With a snarl covering his face at the insistence of hiring Misa Amane for the Countess, the Phantom tore after Lawliet. The twist of the hallway brought him simultaneously between the backstage of the theater and the stairway to one of his more modest
basement entrances; it was also over the head of the Vicomte, who was heading…down, as if he would find his way around anywhere in the semi-dark.
That brought the Phantom short, and he stopped to hear the man's words as he muttered to himself.
"Orders!" He was grumbling. "Warnings, and lunatic demands!" The Phantom followed overhead as he descended, amusement fading more as the Vicomte shook his head and said, "I must see these demands are rejected!"
Furious now, the Phantom turned heel and grabbed at one of his rope pulleys, pulling himself so that he was lurking in the open space above the stage. The managers and Misa had come out as well, all talking amongst themselves.
"Who'd believe," Takada and Mikami said loudly; their voices sounded contemplative and vaguely suspicious, as if they themselves weren't sure of their good fortune, "a diva, happy to relieve a chorus boy who's gone and slept with our patron."
"He and that soubrette, entwined in love's duet." Kira let out a revulsed shudder that made Misa laugh, though her husband looked anything but pleased. "Although they try to hide, they've acted on the side."
He slunk silently along the ceiling, eyes narrowed hatefully at the gossiping mangers that dared to spread falsehoods about Near. The boy hadn't been entwined in any love duet they were thinking of, and he most certainly had not been anywhere even remotely
close to the Vicomte. He stalked the invisible walkway, moving easily around the ropes that held up the chandelier.
On the stage, their voices carried easily and he heard them clearly, watching as the singers and dancers and stage hands filled the stage with their presence. There were quite a bit of people, more than anyone would have thought an opera house would hold.
"You'd never get away with all this in a play," Lawliet said boredly. Near was following behind him, his dark eyes unfocused and staring ahead at nothing. He didn't seem to register that half the opera house was against him; once he was on the
stage facing the house, his eyes darted upwards.
"But if it's loudly sung and in a foreign tongue," the managers countered, "it's just the sort of story audiences adore, in fact, the perfect opera!" Misa strode to the center of the stage, standing right next to Near and putting a
hand on his shoulder. Near didn't register the touch, still searching the ceiling, but the Phantom didn't miss the condescending way Misa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Near's eyes passed over his hiding spot; once, twice, and on the third time, the Phantom stepped forward just minutely. The disturbance in the shadows caught Near's attention, and the fourth time he looked, his eyes lit up on the Phantom. There was a
burning curiosity in those eyes, one that hadn't been dampened as much as he'd thought with his own outburst. Without meaning to, the Phantom felt his lips form the words that were being said onstage. He kept Near's gaze with his own, making it clear
to the younger boy that he alone was singing directly to Near.
"Prima donna," the Phantom accompanied this with a small half-bow, "the world is at your feet! A nation waits and how it hates to be cheated." Near's eyes widened just slightly, a pink color dusting the top of his cheeks at the intense
way the Phantom was watching him. The Phantom smiled minutely, concentration on pouring his emotion to the boy. "Light up the stage with that age old rapport." Near inclined his head to the side subtly, tilting it towards where Misa was
standing next to him. The Phantom's eyes didn't stray from Near's, though his hands tightened into fists. "Sing, prima donna, once more…"
Once more…he spun on his heel, disappearing into the shadows and the secret entryway that would lead to his catacombs. It was one of his more dangerous routes, filled with traps, but he knew them as well as the back of his hand.
He had a plan.
XxX
Opening night was unfolding as well as he could have hoped.
In the weeks of rehearsals leading up to Il Muto's opening, he'd been careful to avoid getting in the way of anything. He hadn't gone to see Near or even do their lessons; part of that was the plotting to make sure his plan was perfect, and part of it
was the shame that still lingered whenever he thought of how he'd lost his temper against the boy. Near had his own schedule to uphold, and after the first two attempts at waiting for the Phantom to continue his lessons, Near had abandoned them to
the rigorous dancing that Lawliet had for him. It was part of a series of unfortunate consequence that allowed for the Phantom to hear of Near's accomplishments second-hand through Lawliet or whomever happened to be speaking of him, and to se Near
for a few precious seconds as he slept on, unaware.
Another was Misa's new habit of strutting around the theater as if she owned the place again. In the first week of rehearsals, she moved as if in terror of his acting out again. Once she had a few days of peace, she began growing bolder and bolder. If
he'd thought her unbearable before, Misa Amane was now worse than insufferable; it was taking every ounce of self control the Phantom had to not drop another backdrop on her during rehearsals, but he would draw from his rather deep well of patience
and remind himself of his plan.
Which was going to be going into effect tonight. The stage was set, the actors in their proper places for his plan of revenge, the seats in the audience completely filled as the sold was sold out once more; the Vicomte in the Phantom's own Box, the managers
by his side. Their disrespect would be at an end now, the Phantom was going to ensure it.
It was time.
"Poor fool, he makes me laugh." Misa sings triumphantly, and as she struggles to hit the notes she needs to in order for the song to work, he lurks in the shadows by the chandelier. He'd watched their rehearsals until his ears felt like they
would bleed, and he knew what would happen if she was interrupted; Misa would have one of their many assistants moisturize her throat as if it would help her sing better. Her spray bottle was off to the side, primed and ready to go should she have
need for it.
He would ensure she would have need of it.
"Poor fool, he doesn't know." The chorus provided her back up, and he made his move.
"Did I not instruct," his voice was booming, loud enough to overpower Misa's easily; the frightened sounds that came from both audience and stage was more than enough to allow him to continue. He was standing by the chain of the chandelier,
using the brightness of the light to hide as well as he did in the shadows. Everyone turned in search of him, but nobody thought to look up. "That Near was to be Countess, and my seat be left open for me?"
"Who goes there?" Misa demanded shrilly.
"The Phantom of the Opera." Near's voice was quiet, calm, but it echoed into the theater and made the audience mutter amongst themselves. His hand moved upwards of its own volition, twirling in his white hair and mussing up the hairstyle it
was in. He was making a show of looking around for the Phantom as well, but his gaze kept darting upwards to the chandelier as if he knew.
"Be silent!" Misa's voice trembled in fright, but she had her pride; the Phantom watched as she clamped her arm around Near's shoulders, less as a sign of comfort and more so she could cover his mouth with her hand. Her eyes were wide and her
head darted from side to side, searching. "Your part is mute, you little brat, you don't say a word!"
"You would dare." The Phantom mused quietly. He eyed the audience with distaste; the opera had sold out, meaning the seats below the chandelier were full. The chain holding it up was within reach, and so he reached out and grabbed it. It took
a few moments, but soon the chandelier was swinging enough for the audience to take notice.
Action happened quickly then; the audience directly below the chandelier and in the surrounding areas screamed and scrambled over each other in an attempt to get out. He watched them for a second, but he didn't linger; now that he'd given his position
away, there was no reason for him to stay. The Phantom slid through the door that lead to the catwalk, closing it quietly behind him.
Footsteps followed behind him, much quicker than he'd anticipated. Frowning, the Phantom turned around just in time to see Light behind him. The stage hand looked utterly surprised, as if he hadn't actually expected to find anyone at all, and he slowed
to a stop right in the middle of the catwalk. They stared at each other for a moment while Takada's voice echoed, trying to soothe the frightened audience members.
"I'm surprised you actually exist." Light said finally, his voice oddly quiet. The Phantom made a curious noise, and the stage hand chanced a step forward; the Phantom took a matching one back. "I expect most of the opera followed your
instructions without really expecting you to be real. I know for quite some time, most of them thought it was Lawliet."
"Lawliet wouldn't dare." The Phantom said. He debated on saying more, but ultimately decided to trust Light. After all, Lawliet did; surely that meant that the man was somewhat trustworthy, despite his relations. "Lawliet allowed me free
reign, but he loves the opera too much to allow himself to lower to my standards, even if he does agree with what I think."
"Many, I think, agree with you." Light admitted. "But my brother and his wife are a much more visible threat. Kira is a much needed member of the theater group, even if Misa is not." The Phantom felt his shoulders tense, and knew by
the way Light's eyes narrowed that the stage hand noticed. Light chanced another step forward. The Phantom didn't move right away, his eyes watching how Light kept his hands by his sides.
"You think I should stop trying to scare Misa away." Light shrugged his shoulder.
"If only because replacing my brother will be bothersome." He said. "I don't particularly like Misa, but unless you've been training someone to be an understudy for Kira at the same time you've been tutoring Near, you will actually shut
the opera down."
"That's a fair point." The Phantom took two steps back. "Are you going to allow me to escape to think it over?"
"I should catch you." Light told him. His steps were quiet, "Takada and Mikami would be much happier with you out of their hair."
"Do you think Lawliet would forgive you for turning me in?" Light's jaw clenched and the Phantom smirked. He had Light torn between the opera and Lawliet, a perfect spot for him to be in. "How about a game?"
"What kind of game?" Light asked.
"You try to catch me." The Phantom said. "You manage that, and I'll go with you. You can take me so Mikami and Takada, and you can tell Lawliet it was my idea. He'll believe that. I do like playing games, after all."
"And if I lose?"
"You will keep my secret." The Phantom shrugged. "Urge the opera population to follow my rules. Without arousing suspicion, preferably. You may let Lawliet know; he'll be much happier, I think, if you knew the truth."
Light thought over these rules for only a second before he launched himself at the Phantom; no doubt, he hoped to take the younger off-guard and end the chase before it began. The Phantom had expected it, though. He grabbed the rail of the catwalk and
jumped over it, landing on the metal walkway below. Light pivoted to the side and, after a moment's hesitation that allowed the Phantom a better head start, followed after him.
They'd missed the commotion below; as he flew down the catwalk over the stage, he saw the ballerinas and danseurs taking the stage. He only allowed himself a brief moment to feel annoyance, but he focused again on Light's attempt to catch him. The Phantom
was almost impressed with Light, truly. The older boy was nearly as agile and quick as the Phantom himself, and had no problem keeping up with him as the Phantom swung and jumped across the tops of the catwalk.
Impressed gave way to irritation quickly, on both sides. Light was consistently one step behind him, locking them in a strange sort of stalemate. The stage hand wasn't getting any closer to catching the Phantom, but neither was the Phantom any closer
to getting away from Light. His eyes darted to various escape routes, but he didn't dare risk opening them with Light so close behind; he could avoid his own traps easily, but there was no guarantee that Light was the same way. Lawliet would not be
quiet in his disapproval if Light got injured on the Phantom's behalf, but nor would he be pleased if the Phantom allowed himself to get caught and turned in.
With a growl, the Phantom reached forward and made himself a chance by force: he pulled on a twisted loose rope, tossing it carelessly behind him in the hope of slowing Light down just a bit. He didn't stop to see if it worked, just jumped a bit harder
than was necessary and gripped the bottom of the catwalk above their heads. Pulling himself up, the Phantom turned just in time to watch Light attempt the same; he fell short, and the Phantom snatched his hand before he could fall too far.
"Careful…" Light gasped, and reached up with his other hand. The Phantom thought it was to grab him with more strength, but Light bypassed him completely; his hand reached just past his neck to scrabble at something- - -the rope, the Phantom
realized, which had managed to get tangled around Light's neck like a noose.
Panic gripped him; he turned on his side, using his other hand in an attempt to pull Light up onto the catwalk beside him. It had ceased being a silly game they were playing; now, it was a true matter of life and death. He'd spent the last while running
and pulling himself up away from Light, and now he was beginning to feel it. His arms trembled, and Light's did the same.
"Help me!" He said harshly, when he felt Light's hand slipping. The Phantom had his gloves on, but they were leather and Light's hand was sweaty from their activity. He tightened his grip, leaning away from the edge in order to give him more
leeway. Light was holding his hand tightly, but his other hand was pulling the edge of the rope around his neck so he could breathe without gasping.
"You…" The stagehand said weakly, and the Phantom felt a surge of anger.
"Don't talk!" He snapped. Getting almost laboriously to his feet while ensuring his grip on Light didn't waver, the Phantom reached out and found another rope. He twisted it around his arm, and allowed Light's weight to pull him forward against
the rail. The rope immediately began digging into his flesh, but he ignored it; their chase had done neither of them any favors, and he was putting all his focus into helping Light. "Just pull yourself up, man!"
"I'm sorry…" Light's voice was weaker now, and the Phantom felt panic thump in his chest beside the anger. Closing his eyes as if that would help him avoid what was unfolding before him.
"Please don't." He said quietly. "Lawliet…"
Light's hand slipped.
The Phantom's heart stopped and cold drenched his body as he watched Light fall gracefully for a few brief moments before jerking to an abrupt stop. The ballerinas all screamed, and chaos in the audience nearly drowned them out. The Phantom stared, wide
eyed and horrified for a moment before springing into action; he yanked on the rope, ignoring the renewed shrieks that erupted from Light moving, and yanked his knife out of his pocket. He sawed at the rope, nearly cutting it before he heard the commotion
of the other stage hands getting closer.
With a heavy heart and silent apology, the Phantom fled the scene to one of his trap doors; it brought him over backstage, and a sole flash of white gave him pause.
Near stared up at him, his eyes wide and fearful the same way they were when his anger got the better of him. His fingers were buried in his hair, under the wig that had been pinned to his head. From the distance, he looked as well as he could considering,
and the Phantom couldn't help letting a tear fall from his eye in Near's intense gaze. They held each other for a moment before the Vicomte appeared, grabbing a hold of Near and breaking their staring contest. The pale boy turned to him, and the Phantom
made his escape before anyone else could spot him.