Erik: WHAT TOOK YOU SO DAMN LONG?!
School, broken computer, I forgot about this story...
No. I didn't forget about you, I forgot about this story. Now, silence! Remember, the cliffy had drunk Raoul about to kill Chrissy.
I thought so. I do not and will not own the Phantom of the Opera. No matter how much I wish I did...
Christine. We have trouble." I snapped out of my trace to stare him. Trouble? I gave him a confused look and turned my head towards where he was staring. "Hello Christine. Hello bastard." Raoul was standing mere feet away, a drunken grin plastered on his face. He had a gun and was pointing it straight at me.
Oh. That trouble.
"Now Chrissy...I beli'v your comin' with me..." his words slurred as he aimed shakily, the effects of the alchohol running deep in his mind. I shifted infront of Christine, protecting her from the drunken madman, my rival. My prey.
"Now, now, Vicomte...you wouldn't hurt Christine...and if you truly do love her...you won't hurt me..." I used the talents of my voice, causing it to brush his ears and fill his mind. Ventriloquism is actually a very useful skill, if you have the right voice, which I did. The voice of an angel...would it be enough to prevent any harm?
"Yeah, I do love 'er. That's why she's comin' wi' me." He stumbled forward slightly, the gun now aimed at me. One false move, one angry impulse...and we might both be done for. I slowly moved forward to reach him, to get closer to the gun...
"Stay back!" I could see his fingers twitch closer to the trigger, so I stopped and put my hands in the air as a criminal would upon arrest.
I watched as he slowly inched behind me, barrel still aimed at my head.
Then it dawned on me.
Torch nearby, the special powder in my pocket...all he needed to do was position himself just right, and Christine needs to move.
I threw my voice to Christine's ear, just so that de Changy wouldn't be able to hear.
"Christine...slowly move a foot to your left..."
She began to make her way left, inch by inch, as Raoul advanced towards her from the right. Four inch...Three inch...Two more inches...
I whipped a small bag out of my pocket at the torch located directly above the Vicomte's head as Christine ran towards me. I grabbed her and huddled her close to my chest as the bag caught.
The one factor I didn't account for...would he turn to face it or not?
Just as he turned to see what I had done, the bag dissintegrated, and the powder within released it's deadly charge.
The small explosion subsided just as quickly it had begun. The little bag contained a substance stronger than gun powder, though on less of a scale as wide as that of dynamite. All-in-all, a very handy little weapon.
The Vicomte de Changy roared in pain from the explosion that had gone off in his face. From what I could see, the burn was very serious, the skin over the left side of his face burning red where flesh and fire had entwined. Christine shuddered and dug further into my chest as the screams of agony reached her ears.
"Let's just go...I don't want to be here any longer..."
I happily accepted her plea as I quickly picked her up and ran off to one of my many hidden passages, while, behind us, Raoul's cries of pain echoed off of the walls.
I turned my head slightly to see if he had followed, and my eyes widened as I saw flesh dripping from his face in small, black bits. I turned forward, and kept running, the irony of the event clear.
'Who is the monster now, Vicomte?'