For the Love of a Vicomte

(A/N: The opinions reflected in the story below are the opinions of the author and her cohorts, who are always right. Any resemblance to individuals living or dead is absolutely, totally, and utterly on purpose. We're bored Raoul fans with nothing to read, so we have to make our own fun.)


"Oh, no!"

"Quick, somebody call the fire department!"

"Meg? Meg, are you okay? Talk to us!"

Alexis, Estella and the other Rabid Admirers were standing just below a pair of legs that seemed to emerge from the ceiling. Bits of scattered plaster dust and other assorted chunks of debris were all over the place.

"I'm fine," Meg replied, her voice somewhat muffled by the remaining ceiling. "If someone could help me down?"

"What happened?" asked Julie, who had just entered. The sight of a pair of jeans sticking out from the ceiling was not what she had expected to see. Then again, Meg was known for her explosive reactions.

"She just read about the Raoul/Christine sex scene rumor in the upcoming film," Estella explained wearily.

"I mean, come on!" Meg shouted, her voice somewhat muffled by the ceiling. "It was 1881! People didn't just haul off and do it, especially not a guy like Raoul and a girl like Christine! I don't object to seeing Raoul sans clothes, but really! And I'm not sure, but I think Joel Schumacher was somewhat influenced by F…Fred…the Double-F word. He Who Must Never Write a Sequel!"

"You mean Frederick Forsyth?" asked Gypsy, one of the newest members, very innocently.

"I doubt it—if so, Raoul wouldn't be getting it on at all," Lexie said darkly.

Meg dropped from the ceiling, landing hard on the ground in a shower of plaster. Mercifully, she hadn't heard Lexie's comment.

 "Ow…Gypsy, what did I tell you about that foul language?"

Gypsy laughed. "Hey, we had to get you down somehow."

"Oh, ha ha. Next time, do it without causing me further injury, okay?" She rounded on the other Admirers.

"Ladies, we can't allow this! They cannot make a Phantom film influenced in any way by the travesty known as 'Phantom of Manhattan'! Did anyone read that swill those Phans tried to pass as a possible movie script? Switching toilet paper is no longer enough! Gaston Leroux would be doing triple axels in his grave if he could see what's been done in his name! With novels like that receiving publishing rights, how can we ever expect decent Phan fiction, let alone a decent movie?"

Once again, music from nowhere began to play. The Admirers got out a broom and dustpans, and begin to clean up the plaster mess.

"At the end of Forsyth, you're ten minutes older
 And that's all you can say, you can't expect more
 Why should it be a war?
 Is the cash even worth giving?
 One more day searching about, what it is it for?
 Good thing Leroux's no longer living!"
 

"Take that, Forsyth!" Manon cried. She paused, and turned to the others. "Do you think we're being too blunt?"

"Well, the first story was just us being silly," Meg replied. "While also making an accurate commentary. We'll do that here, too, but we're gonna try harder to get our point across."

She turned to the readers. "Got that?"

"We have to stand our ground, for truth, beauty, freedom and love!" Kim cried, spreading her arms wide.

"That's Moulin Rouge," Rusty pointed out. "We're for the general improvement of Phan fiction, and the ethical treatment of Raoul."

"Not to mention a non-crappy film version," Cheryl added.

Estella shuddered. "I know. A sixteen-year-old Christine? A thirty-something Phantom? Why don't they just subtitle it 'The Roman Polanski Story' and be done with it?"

"It's enough to make me want to wreck another ceiling," Meg put in.

"Don't," Lexie cautioned. "This is the third one this week. I don't know if our insurance covers the double-F word."

"In that case, we'll have to review the policy. See if it covers Becky L. Meadows, too," Sharon replied.

Meg's eye began to twitch. "She made Raoul stocky! STOCKY!"

"Calm down, Meg," Rusty soothed. "Inhale, exhale…"

Meg sighed, and obeyed. "Before I hit the roof, what were we discussing?"

"The annual snowball fight between Erik's Estrogen Brigade and the Society of R.A.O.U.L.," Estella replied.

"Oh yeah."

"We should make a rule against iceballs this year. It got really ugly the last time. Plus, I never know which side to fight on. I love Raoul, but I love Erik, too!" Sharon said.

"I know!" Lexie cried. "Why can't we have both?"

She struck a pose, and promptly burst into song.

"Bring on those Phantom men!

 And we'll begin the sin

 So shout above the din

 Don't wait another minute!"

The other Admirers joined in, striking their own poses.

"Sing with us!
 Or eat our dust!

 So let's sing one more time

Bring on the Phantom men…"

Estella stepped forward, and twirled around.

"Raoul steals our hearts…

 Erik steals our souls…

 Wearing clothes is an art

 To those beautiful, sexy men!

 I suppose a mask by any other name…

 The blond hair or the mask, the feeling's the same!"

"That was fun!" Lexie said, as applause from an invisible audience rang out.

"It's always great to sing the praises of Erik and Raoul, when you don't have to choose between them," Meg replied.

Rusty elbowed Meg playfully in the ribs. "We all know who you'd pick."

"True…but I'd at least do eenie-meenie-minie-moe first." Meg sighed. "Of course, Phan fiction doesn't really give us a choice, does it? It's pretty much Erik, Erik or Erik."

"That's 'cause he's wicked cool and wears a mask," Julie put in.

"Sure, but Raoul has his good points, too," Meg replied. "But you'd never know that from all the Phan fiction out there. Geez, how many books and fanfics of the same plot are we supposed to swallow?"

The room darkened, and a spotlight lit on Meg, who donned a long black cape for no apparent reason. She took hold of the microphone, and began to sing.

"I've been searching for an original Phic

 Maybe R/C, just for a kick

Since I've read all the E/C I can possibly stand

Meadows just sucks, and Forsyth should be canned

All I want is creativity, that's what I need

It's for that reason, this crusade I lead!"

"Hang on," Kim broke in. "Are you planning on going around biting people and drinking their blood until they write a different plot?"

Meg stopped singing, and the spotlight turned off abruptly. "Is that a bad idea?"

"Well, there might be legal issues, especially if you sing that song while doing it."

"What if I just do it to Joel Schumacher? I can leave out the singing," Meg suggested hopefully.

"Curb those bloodthirsty instincts," Estella advised. "At least until after we can hire a new lawyer. The old one collapsed from exhaustion, remember? Besides, you faint at the sight of blood."

"Oh yeah…"

That was when the midi alarm went off.

Lexie raised an eyebrow at her fellow Admirers. "Shall we?"

The Admirers promptly donned matching soldier uniforms, exact replicas of the one Raoul wore for the 'Masquerade' sequence. They dashed to the center of the room, as the music swelled around them.

"Say you'll share with me one blond, one vicomte

 Say the word, and we will defend you!
 Raoul needs our love, now and always

 We promise that all we say is true

 Even though we love our Erik, too!"

(A/N: Songs parodied so far: "At the End of the Day" from Les Miserables, "Original Sin" from Dance of the Vampires, "Bring on the Men" from Jekyll and Hyde, and if I have to tell you what the last song is, a Punjab lasso should be around your neck.)