Oliver: I'm feeling left out.
Me: -gives a great, big, hug- Anyways, I'll try to write more story-wise, I know it's been a while. I have a plot in mind, and it was the amount of reviews I got that made me want to keep going. So thanks to all the reviewed, especially those that did while I wasn't writing. But I'm back, and my words are one fire! Woot!)
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The manager, Tien, was a pious man, and did not believe in ghosts, goblins, or creatures of the night. So when a note, sealed with red wax shaped like a skull, he was a little surprised. As he opened the envelope, he even crossed himself in hopes of warding off and spirits. When nothing jumped out of the dark corners of his office, Tien looked down at the messy writing and started to read. The note said:
"Dear Manager,
I am the opera ghost. I am the master of this house, and you are my servant. Now, you may not believe in phantoms, but I say that you start believing now. You are to leave box five open for my use, and I demand a salary of 10,000 francs a month. If these demands are not taken seriously, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I also recommend that La Belle is to be replaced with Ms. Chagny. You will find my advice wise, as La Belle is getting on in age. If you do not believe in my existence, look in the second cellar, near a piece of Hannibal's stage.
Forever you Master,
O.G."
Tien stared at the moment for a long time, reading over and over. Finally he got up, and crossed himself once more. This was something big. He had heard of the Phantom of the Opera House before. But... that opera house had been destroyed.. Who was this new ghost? Was he even a ghost, or was it some cruel prank? But who would want to prank a kind manager? Tien was known for his generosity, and for the kindness he showed to his singers, whether they were sopranos or just little ballerina girls. Who would want to do ill to him? At first he suspected Gemmé. He didn't like that he was forced to tutor little Ms Chagny. But, he liked it now. Ms Chagny had improved miraculously. In fact, it was like she had been taught by an Angel. Tien was even thinking of paying Gemmé more! He had done such a wonderful thing with Ms. Chagny!
Now Tien could think of no one that would have a grudge against him. Could it really be that there was a restless ghost in the opera house? What was he to do? People would think him mad if he obeyed to this specter's demands, but if he did not do as the phantom wished, he could end up worse for wear. So what was he to do?
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Diane sighed, stroking her hair for the umpteenth time. What was she to do? Adamo was on his way up to her room, to talk as they had planned. Well, not exactly planned. Diane had more demanded it.
"Angel?"
"Yes?"
"I am going to try to get Adamo to stop drinking."
Oliver's fears had been confirmed. He would have to make sure that the drunken rat would never get off the booze.
"Well, I have to wish you good luck. His love of the drink is quite strong."
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and the angel shut up.
"Come in," Diane called softly.
The door creaked open, and Adamo peaked inside. He looked tired as if sleep had eluded him for days. He crept in, slinking down to sit on the edge of her bed.
"You wanted to talk to me?"
Diane's face was hard and impassive, and her voice wasn't any gentler.
"I want you to stop drinking. Now. When you drink you are rude, crude, and don't care for anyone but yourself. I won't see you again unless you stop."
It did not take her long to get to the point.
"Diane, I-"
"No excuses! Alcohol is a horrible poison, ruining your mind. I want it to stop!"
Adamo opened his mouth once more, ready to speak, but shut it, giving up.
"Alright, I won't drink anymore."
"Promise?"
"Promise. Cross my heart," he added, a childish grin on his face.
Oliver could take no more. Through his corridors he rushed, blindly running into corners and walls, making for the rooftop. He ignored the cobwebs and the rats, his mind on one thing; Diane.
It was cold outside, and the chill air made him gasp. Behind the mask with one hole his eye could be seen teary, whether from the cold or what he had just heard unknown. Perhaps both. He had thought that that whelp would have given into that addiction more. He had been wrong however. Adamo did not deserve her. Diane needed better, and Oliver knew that. But how was he going to get her to realize?
Oliver went to the balcony, leaning over and staring at the streets. And it hit him. There, down by the street was a poster for the Winter Masquerade. It would be there that he made his move. There he would trick Adamo back to drinking, and he could meet Diane. It would be perfect! He would fit in, for it was Masquerade, with masks!
The tears stopped flowing, and soft, sweet laughter came from his lips, erupting from his throat like molten passion. He had so much to do! So much to plan!
With that thought Oliver, the Phantom of the Opera, rushed off, down to the cellars where he would make his suit and his mask
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Tien was in the cellar, repulsed at the amount of dust he found. Someone would have to come down and clean. He wasn't paying those janitors for nothing. Well, there he was, by the props of Hannibal. And where was this thing he was supposed to see to believe in the Phantom? The man sighed, brushing cobwebs away with his hat. He was the manager! He was not supposed to be in here!
Suddenly he heard a scuffling sound, and turned, looking into the corner filled with shadows. One shadow stood out among the rest, and Tien moved closer, rats scurrying away around his feet.
He gasped, for there, on the ground was the old caretaker, most certainly dead. He was flat on his back, and by the way the rats kept near, his body was already decomposing. But the thing that made Tien gasp was two letters written in blood on the man's shirt.
O.G.