He stalked up the corridors and into the burnt out opera house…except it wasn't burnt out. It was fully restored and there was a masked ball in full swing.
"What the…how did they rebuild it so fast?"
He didn't have much time to ponder this as he was quickly grabbed and pulled onto the dance floor.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Tantaricia." She gasped. "You must be THE Phantom of the opera!"
"Gee, did the mask give it away?"
"Did you just say 'gee'?"
Erik looked disconcerted, "No…"
"I can't believe we ended up dancing together. What a coincidence!"
"You walked over to me! You knew who I was!"
He realised that girls surrounded him and many of them were arguing who was going to dance with him next. Over this rumble of arguments he heard raised voices and struggled out of their grasp, heading towards the noise.
Meanwhile…
"How could you abandon Erik like that Christine?"
Christine stared in bewilderment at the girl who had 'kidnapped' both her and Raoul and brought them back to the Opera house and then proceeded to berate them.
"Who?"
"The Phantom!" she wailed. "How could you leave him?"
Christine frowned, "Wasn't him killing people enough?"
"You should get back together with him."
Christine opened and closed her mouth. "But…I don't love him."
"Yes you do, really, deep, deep, down."
"No I don't."
"Yes you do."
"Stuff that," a second fan girl popped up from amongst the dancers, "Erik should get together with Meg."
"Who?" Erik asked truly confused and walking up to them.
"You know – Meg."
Erik blinked.
"Meg Giry."
Erik blinked again.
"Madame Giry's daughter."
"Is she the blonde one who's always creeping around?"
"What are you talking about?" Another fan shouted, "Erik and Raoul are clearly meant to be."
Both guys visibly baulked and looked warily at the other one. Raoul was looking scared and Erik just looked plain furious.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"
"Why not?"
"Why…why not?" Erik spluttered. "I hate him!"
"The feeling's mutual," Raoul spat back.
"Are you sure? I think you should prove it."
"Gosh," Erik said sarcastically, "I thought the repeated murder attempts were a dead giveaway!"
"You're all nuts," a fourth person shouted. "I should get together with Erik." They tossed their hair.
"Don't I get a say in this?" Erik asked.
"NO!" Several voices shouted back.
Erik stood in a miffed silence for a few moments while the argument raged around him. Suddenly a piece of paper was thrust into his hands.
"Read this."
With a look of confusions Erik glanced down at the paper, then heaved a deep sigh of resignation.
"Christine," he read, "I think you're so sexy and hot and…" he trailed off, his eyes flicking over the rest of the script. "What is this?"
"Keep reading," the girl said threateningly.
"I'm not reading this rubbish! Why would I say anything like it?"
Raoul was looking angry.
"What were you saying about my fiancée?"
"Fiancee? You still haven't married her yet?"
"No. Because I secretly love Erik." Christine clapped her hands over her mouth. "I'm sorry Raoul. I don't know where that came from."
"How did you know my name was Erik? I didn't tell you."
"They told me," she half sobbed pointing at the fan girls.
"How did they know?"
"Regardless," Raoul started to say, but was cut off in mid flow by a script being shoved under his nose. "Erik you are a butthead and you're really smelly too," he read.
Erik snarled and reached for his sword. "Care to take that back."
Raoul read the next line, "No."
"Very well then! We shall fight!"
"Yay!" The fangirls (who had gathered around en masse) cheered. A couple of them smiled secretly to themselves.
"En gardé," Erik cried and pulled out…a plain metal handle. He stared at it in confusion.
"Push the button!" Someone yelled.
Cautiously Erik did so and a beam of light shot out. He dropped it as if it'd burned him.
"What the…?"
Raoul reached for his sword and pulled out…a haddock?!?!
"Huh? Why have I got this?"
"Ha ha ha!" the two sly fan girls taunted, "now you can't cheat like you did in the last fight!"
"You fools!" another yelled from the crowd, "Erik's scared of Haddocks!"
This made Erik look up sharply from prodding the light sabre.
"Since when?" he demanded.
No one replied.
"I asked since when," he repeated dangerously.
The one who had spoken stepped forward.
"Well, you don't like to talk about it, but ever since you were little because your mum used to lock you in a room full of them when you were naughty…"
Erik was staring at her in disbelief. Finally he shook himself – turned off the light sabre and knocked Raoul out with it.
"Now use the light sabre to cook the Haddock," someone yelled.
"Why?" Erik gasped in exasperation.
"Because it would be a witty thing to do."
Erik shook his head and stashed the light sabre in his belt.
"Ooooh!" A fan girl ran out from the crowd. "My darling Erik! Are you injured from the fight?"
"No."
"But you must be! Then I can nurse you back to health."
"Well I'm not."
"A stab wound?"
"No."
"A scratch?"
"I'm not hurt."
"Not even a paper cut?"
Erik's patience finally snapped (it would be prudent to note here that the only reason it hadn't snapped ages ago was due to the author holding it in check but even she couldn't hold it forever). With a snarl he brought out the light sabre and switched it on, swinging it next to him.
"If anyone comes within five metres of me I'll carve him or her, especially her, up." He backed out of the room. "And nobody better follow me."
He vanished through a door.
The characters left all stood in the middle of the hall looking around.
"Are any of the rest of you sick of Erik not falling in love with us?" one asked.
"Yeah!" they all yelled simultaneously.
"I mean we can write these stories if we want to!" another shouted.
"Precisely," they agreed.
"So who's to blame?"
One of them looked around the room slowly before pointing to a balcony. "Her! Up there! Look!"
The author's face drained of colour.
"Oh dear," she muttered, meeting the eyes of the angry fans.
"Get her!" They shrieked.
However, with one quick motion, the author leapt off the balcony and grabbed the chandelier.
"Nah nah!" she taunted. "Can't get me here."
A movement caught her eye. Erik was lurking in the shadows by the rope that held the chandelier.
"Erik – old buddy – old pal," the author stuttered.
Erik cracked his knuckles. "You're the one who put all these people up to bothering me."
The author grinned nervously. "No hard feelings, ay?"
Erik answered by cutting the rope.
The chandelier crashed to the floor, sending up plumes of dust.
The author crawled from the wreckage, hacking, only to find herself at the feet of the girls.
"Oh dear."
"Get her!" they screamed and the author was lost under the attacking bodies.
Erik nodded and slunk from the room – finally rid of the bother.