I know. You've all been waiting .. I'm sorry. I've been waiting for over two months to find someone who'd translate a few sentences into French for me. However, I never did. I knew I couldn't make my readers wait much longer, so I simply changed that section into French.

"Sugar, we're goin' down swinging." Fall Out Boy

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Meg sat outside the old Opera Populiare, her body hidden as she sat beside the massive stairs with her knees pressed against her chest. A giggling woman leading a chubby man up the stairs, who tugged suggestively at her black and red dress, drew her attention. Meg shook her head slowly, turning her eyes away in disgust. It was both saddening and sickening; more and more people were turning the abandoned theatre into nothing more than a brothel, belittling the place she had called her home. As two men hurried up the stairs minutes after the first couple vanished through the doors, Meg groaned with nauseating disapproval. Even as she pulled herself to leave her loathing and disgust behind, the woman's flirtatious laughter continued. However hard she tried to block her out, the voices rang clear.

"Two more, Monsieur?" Meg shook her head as she listened, brushing the dirt from her bare legs. "Only enough for one." There was another short laugh. "No. Only one tonight." The sound of scampering feet was heard, and the soft rumble of a man's laugh; but it was a short and muffled scream that caused Meg's head to snap up.

"Monsieur!" The woman's scream tugged at Meg, willing her to rush those cautious steps the blonde was taking up the stairs. She hesitated when there was a short silence. "Let go!" Biting her lip nervously, Meg raced up the stairs towards the doors. "Monsieur, please!" The woman's voice cracked with sobs. Meg nearly stumbled when she rushed through the broken down doors. "Please.." The woman pleaded, lying at the bottom of the stairs, her dress already torn apart as three men held her down. Meg bent over quickly, grabbing a thick torch that rested near her feet.

"Get off her!" Meg finally shouted as she ran towards them, and one of the men turned around quickly, a dirty hand holding up a small knife.

"Well, look what we got here." The man smiled, ignoring the whore as she slapped at his bearded face. He released her hips, now moving towards Meg.

"Release her!" Meg shrieked at the last two men, looking past the one who drew dangerously close.

"Two in one, eh?" The chubby one snickered, kneeling between the prostitute's knees. "You go on. I got this one." He nodded to the bare-chested man who held down the woman's shoulders.

The man responded quickly, fighting with his belt as he stood to move beside his friend, the two now placed only a few feet from Meg. The armed man lunged at Meg quickly, the silver blade was directed in slashing motion towards her stomach, but he narrowly missed. The man staggered forward when his blade barely grazed over the fabric of her dress.

The man responded quickly, fighting with his belt as he stood to move beside his friend, the two now lurking only a few feet from Meg. "S-stay back…" Meg fumbled over her words as her hands began to faintly tremble. Her fingers tightened; the wood hovering over her shoulder as her second warning. Neither warning was taken seriously, and the man lunged towards her.

Meg did not hesitate the react. The torch was quickly sent colliding into his face, and the bones of his nose crunched beneath it. She pulled the torch back over her shoulder, watching as the man's body hovered for a moment before it limply crumbled to the ground. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, a thick puddle slowly forming around his head.

Meg looked towards the bare-chested man, who was swinging the belt loosely at his side. As she expected, he rushed towards her and swung the belt. The leather slapped her face brutally, but other than releasing a pained cry, Meg didn't hesitate to counteract his next attack. A balled fist thrust towards her face, Meg arms swung the club-like torch towards him. His fist cracked against it painfully, and for a moment Meg let her guard down. The man's other hand reached out, grabbing the torch and ripping it from her hands. She stumbled backwards, almost debating retreat as he held up the torch. He seemed to hesitate, but aggressively the torch was whipped towards her.

When the thick wood slammed into her abdomen, she heard the snapping of a rib before the pain finally coursed through her body. She tried to let out a cry, but the air was forced from her lungs. As she weakened to her knees, the man dropped his belt. Roughly grabbing a fistful of Meg's blonde hair, he jerked her close. She whined nervously, lowly trying to regain her breath. "On your knees where you belong, you little whore." The man smirked, tapping her cheek with the end of the torch.

"Is Bernard okay?" The chubby man had asked, struggling to keep the trashing woman beneath him under control.

"He'll be alright." The other replied, never moving his brown eyes off Meg, "Now, what to do with you?"

With tears dripping from her flushed cheeks, Meg pleaded for her body to steady; hoping that some idea would arise that could spare her. The only scheme that came nearly caused her to cry out in shame, but she did not allow herself to doubt its ability. A hand shot forward and gripped the man's groin with extreme pressure. The man stiffened as her nails nearly dug through the fabric of his pants, and he fell to his knees with a nervous plea.

"Non, non," The man cried out, but Meg tugged at him viciously. Her other hand grabbed the torch from his hands, and when it was free from his grasp she twisted her wrist. Tears escaped the man's eyes, and when she withdrew her hand he groaned with relief. Meg rose to her feet, and the wooden torch replaced where her hand had been painfully located. The mans eyes widened, a high pitched squeal sounding from his throat as he gripped his groin, and Meg snickered coldly when he fell to his back with a whimper.

She moved towards the stairs where the chubby man was still holding down the woman. Meg had only gone a few steps when her body hunched slightly. Each movement intensified the sharp pains, and the torment slowly overwhelmed her. Using the torch as support for her body, Meg clutched her abdomen and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. With heavy breaths, she tried to regain her strength. Straightening her body, she gave the illusion of recovery as she held the torch over her shoulder. "Get off her." The blonde growled, trying to ignore the trembles that shook through her body when pains erupted within her chest.

A soft grumble was heard, but the mans words were too soft and slurred for comprehension. Slowly rising to his feet on the steps, he pulled the prostitute up with him and held her body against his. "You came here because you want my whore?" He asked with a smirk.

A sudden cry drew both Meg and the man's attention, the half dressed man kneeling by his fallen friend's body. "He's dead!" The man had screamed furiously, a sob choking his words.

Meg kept her eyes darting from between the men, an uneasy feeling spiraling through her mind. "I didn't…mean to." Meg suddenly whispered, as though she needed to justify her actions against these men. The bare-chested man grabbed his friend's knife quickly before looking over his shoulder towards Meg.

"You killed him! You killed him, you whore!" Meg flinched at his hysteria, guilty tears beginning to gloss over her eyes. She had remembered that there was another standing behind her only when an arm was already wound around her throat. Her body was pulled against his, and she clenched her hands tightly to hold onto the club. The other woman was released, and Meg smiled weakly as she watched her hurry out the doors.

"You won't be smiling long." The man snapped as he stomped towards her, pulling his opened shirt off his body completely. Just arms-reach away from Meg, the man suddenly halted in his steps with widened eyes. When his gaze seemed to wander past them, the overweight man spun quickly, with Meg still secured in his grasp, to face the stairs. The phantom strode down the winding stairway slowly and elegantly, his long black cape concealing the scarlet steps behind him.

"It's him," The stocky man panted, taking a step back and dragging Meg with him.

The arm around her neck tightened, as did his hold around her waist.

"The opera ghost?" The other asked in a whisper, and the phantom smirked slightly.

The men took a step backwards, his body turning slightly and revealing his thoughts of retreat.

"I wouldn't." The phantom warned him simply, still descending the staircase.

The armed man seemed caught between anger and panic, his breathing becoming heavy before he finally rushed towards Meg. Carefully avoiding his friend's arm, the tip of the blade was pressed just beneath Meg's jaw line, positioned at Meg's throat.

The phantom remained silent as he continued to reduce the amount of space between him and the trio. Another smirk flashed upon his features when his foot met the last step.

"We'll kill her!" The chubby one shouted, his tightened grip pressing against Meg's ribs and forcing out a whimper.

"Do you believe that would trouble me?" The phantom asked with disinterest, eyes never once wandering towards Meg.

"We'll kill her." The other repeated, the blade now sinking into her skin slightly and drawing out a single drop of blood.

"I believe you mentioned that." He tugged the cape forward, the dark cloth matching the mask that concealed his face.

Meg was jerked backwards when the men went to withdraw from the phantom's presence. Meg cringed openly, grinding her teeth as she fought back a strong cry.

The blade was suddenly raised to her face, the blade nicking her jaw line befor the knife resettled against her cheek. "We will!" The bare-chested man shouted, but all signs of anger were easily overcome with evidence of fear.

"I care nothing for that girl's life," The phantom left the stairway; closing in the small distance they had tried to gain. "But you will not spill blood within my theatre." His eyes seemed to darken when a drop of blood fell from Meg's chin and onto the front of her white dress.

"Course you don't care," The chubby one tried to undermine him, "You're a killer, too. You're a monster."

Another smirk; another step. "Indeed, monsieur." The phantom gave a slight nod.

"You want her dead?!" The man then yelled back.

"I am not wielding the knife." The masked man replied quickly.

"Just give her to him," The thinner male lowered the blade, "We don't need her." The obese man refused through silence, strengthening his tight hold on Meg. When the bare-chested man stepped back, the phantom leapt towards him instantly. Meg's body flinched when he rushed past her, the leather cape brushing against her legs.

The phantom overpowered the man easily, forcing him onto his stomach while driving a knee into his back to hold him steady. Confusion and amazement fell upon Meg as a lasso was wound around the man's neck, yet she'd not even seen him withdraw it. Gurgles sounded from the strangling man, saliva dripping from his mouth as the phantom tightened the lasso further.

"Get off him!" The wide man shouted, loosening his grip around Meg slightly. A snap was heard, and the man's thrashing ended. The phantom silently slipped the rope off the man's head and rose to his feet.

"Just take her." The man cried out sadly, pushing Meg away from him. She spun about sharply, lifting the torch they must've forgotten she possessed, and swung it forward strongly. Her whimper blended with the woods sounding crack when it met the man's head.

As soon as it struck him, the man fell to his knees to with a groan, and the blonde was soon to join him. The agonizing pains forced out her strained cry, and shivers overtook her. The phantom stepped past her, tossing the rope aside before gloved hands tightly grasped the man's head. There was not a single strangle for breath or a flail from the man as the neck had snapped, and a third life was stolen away. Despite a slight disgust that churned within Meg's stomach, the swiftness of his actions was, infact, rather astounding to Meg.

Quickly tucking the lasso away, the phantom moved towards Meg in silence. She clutched her stomach in silence as she fought for slow and steady breaths. Every intake felt as though it were fire consuming her lungs and not air, and when she'd exhale her trembling only intensified.

Surprisingly, the phantom knelt before her. Meg looked to him in confusion, trying to contain her shaking as gloved fingers lifted her chin gently. It took her a moment to realize he was examining the small cut on her throat, and when he failed to comment she knew it wasn't as bad as it felt. He pulled the unlit torch from her fingers and tossed it aside. He turned away to examine the three bodies sprawled across the floor.

"I didn't mean to come," Her raspy whisper broke the silence, regaining his attention, "I'm sorry." More tears blurred her vision as she managed to lock eyes with him. "I had to help her, Monsieur."

"Who?" He asked, grabbing her arms to help her on her feet as he rose.

"The woman." She broke her stare, looking over his shoulder towards the theatres doors. The masked man snickered quietly in response, eyes narrowing mockingly.

"A partner's play session go wrong?"

Meg's forehead wrinkled slightly as she frowned in confusion, clearing missing the message behind his words. "Pardon, Monsieur?" She asked naively.

When footsteps sounded outside the Opera House, He averted his attention from her and ascended the stairs quickly. Meg held her sides weakly as she followed him, careful not to step on the cape billowing behind the Phantom. "I will not appreciate it if you've led more people, little Giry." The man growled softly, not even glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge her.

"I'd not intend to, I assure you." Meg tried to sigh, but she found her attempts of exhaling brought more pain, and the fiery sensation expanded through her entire chest. She grasped the railing to steady herself as the pain intensified, and clumsily stepped upon his cape. He obliviously continued…until the cape snagged and tightened slightly around his throat. He managed to suppress a gag, and instead turned about furiously and yanked the cloth from beneath Meg's feet.

She immediately lost her balance, her hand sliding off the railing as she fell backwards. He instinctively reached out, and Meg's arm was captured just before her back met the stairs. She dangled there awkwardly, one leg curled slightly beneath her while the other was sprawled out, resting against one of his feet. Her right hand was pressed against the stair in hopes to steady her, while her left arm was being firmly clutched. She felt herself jerked forward and pulled onto her feet, her face lingering mere inches away from his. Tugging at his cape one last time, he roughly released her arm and continued up the last of the stairs.

Meg hesitated, cradling her stomach as she watched him move into the dark halls. With a nervous bite at her lower lip, Meg's mind wandered rapidly as she battled with the decision to follow or not. A crack sounded from the entrance, and Meg saw an officer step into the theatre. When their eyes met, the 'options' became much easier to choose from. She hurried up the stairs and ignored the warnings being shouted below her. Footsteps pounded at the stairs, and Meg released an audible whine. With her heart pounding in her chest, Meg felt trembles shaking through her body again as it pleaded for more oxygen. However desperately she attempted to comply, she failed to catch her breath.

"You there!" A shout sounded behind her as Meg reached her old bedroom. "Stop!"

Meg felt herself falter as dizziness blurred her vision. She staggered forward until collapsing to her knees near her bed. When she gasped for air, the agonizing pain began to subside. Her eyelids became heavy, and a weary feeling kept her from even acknowledging the draped over her. As the shadowy figure lifted Meg from the dust-coated floor, darkness claimed her.