Onyxx: All right. You asked for it, IamthePhantomoftheOpera. Here it is. The third—and FINAL, dammit—installment of my Gerry Butler series.

Gerry: We love you …

Onyxx: Yes, well. I wish I could say the same to you, Ger.

Gerry: D: That was mean.

Chapter One:

Dammit. Crazy kids. Running around all over the place, tearing up Em's expensively refurbished living room.

I attempted to clean up the mess the kids had made. They screamed and played upstairs.

"Alright, you bloody hooligans! You'll both be hung from the ceiling by your toes if you don't calm the hell down!" I know, I should watch my language around my seven- and four-year-old children. But what the hell, they heard it anyway. We live in New York, for God's sake. Well, we divide our time between New York and Scotland because my mum demands to see them at least three months out of the year.

"Bloody hell," I muttered under my breath. "Em's going to kill me. She's going to wring my neck like a fucking chicken."

On top of it all, I was supposed to help the kids get packed for a visit to Paisley to visit my mum. When Em came home from the grocery store and found the house in such a state of chaos AND the kids still not ready for the flight . . . I was going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our marriage.

I shuddered. I needed to hurry, or I'd be a very lonely man for the rest of my life.

An agonizing two hours later, I had the kids' suitcases in my hands and the kids themselves were latched onto my legs like friggin' monkeys. I limped to the door and opened it for Em as she brought in a bag of snacks for the kids to take on the plane.

"Hey, baby," she said, giving me a brief kiss before unlatching Chris from around my left ankle. I will never know how she manages to do that.

"Okay, Erik, give your daddy some breathing room. Let go of his leg." And POOF! Just like that, he let go of my leg. Mothers are magicians.

The ride to the airport was short enough. Erik sang along to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack—he knew it by heart, though he only sang the Phantom's parts.

This is the point where I press the fast-forward button and skip to the part where we arrive in Glasgow Airport. Then I press it again, and . . . STOP! Paisley. Finally.

Mum was happy to see us—though I think more happy to see that I was still married to Emmy. And that we hadn't strangled the kids.

I held Chris as Emmy carried their bags into my mother's house, chatting with her about all the little things—such as our recent success in potty-training Chris and Erik's prodigal reading and math abilities. Erik trailed behind me.

I gently placed Chris in Lynn's arms and bear-hugged Brian.

"Ah, you numpty, where've you been?" Brian growled.

"Trying to control the kids. And you?"

"Trying to control the wife."

I laughed and patted my older brother on the back again. Turning to Lynn, I repeated the gesture.

"Ah, Gerry, it's so good to see you!" Lynn said, hugging me tight. "What have you been up to, not visitin'?"

"Working, Lynn," I answered. It had been a while since I'd last been to Paisley. Of course, I had talked to Lynn a bit on the phone, but it had been one ten-minute call. "Oh, you haven't met Christine yet, have you?" I grinned and gently picked up my daughter, giving her to my older sister. "Here she is."

"Okay, so you named your kids after the Phantom of the Opera characters?" Brian asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's with that?"

Emmy and I glanced at each other before I cleared my throat. "It was the only movie we were in together, and I always liked the names, anyway." Lame excuse, I know.

Brian rolled his eyes. "You always were one for symbolism, Ger. Hey, what do you say we turn on the big flatscreen you bought us and watch some Celtic football?"

I grinned, picked up my son, and looked him in the eye. "Whatever your friends back home tell you, this is real football." I carried him to the sitting room and grabbed the remote, turning it to the sports channel that showed our team. This time, though I wasn't at the actual game, I was able to yell and scream as much as I wanted because I wasn't singing for Andrew Lloyd Webber anytime soon. Erik stared at me as if I had gone mad when I jumped up and screamed obscenities at the referee after a bad call.

I screamed even more obsceneties when the news suddenly flashed across the screen.

"What the hell?" I shouted, punching Brian in the arm. "What's going on?"

"It looks like somebody kidnapped a couple of kids." He frowned, turning the volume up.

"We interrupt this program to bring you breaking news. A man was seen carrying two young children of around seven or eight as they screamed for help." A picture showed up on the screen, and my heart stopped cold. "He has long blond hair, blue eyes, and appears to be in his mid-twenties. The two children appear to be siblings. The boy has short blond hair and green eyes, and the girl has curly brown hair and brown eyes. If you see this man, please notify the authorities immediately."

The football match came back on, but I wasn't in the mood to watch it anymore. Oh shit, I thought, the picture stuck in my mind.

I ran to the kitchen before Brian could ask me what was going on, then grabbed Emmy.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered. "Privately."

I dragged her into the hallway and leaned to her ear. "The news just flashed and it looks like the hole is open again. Only it's in Scotland now, not New York."

"What is it, Gerry?" Emmy looked worried, stroking my cheek.

"It's Raoul de Chagny," I hissed, biting my lower lip. "He's kidnapped Erik and Christine's kids."

She paled, her eyes widening.

I led her back to the kitchen and addressed my family. "Listen, you need to watch the kids. We have very important business to attend to."

"Gerry, is this about that kidnapping?" Brian asked, frowning.

I sighed. "Brian, just bear with me," I said, shaking my head. "I … just got a text that said … a director wants to meet with us about a movie." I had no idea where that had come from.

Mum and Lynn looked surprised, while Brian just looked skeptical. "Which director?" he asked, sounding very much like that woman from the Bounty Hunter in the coun try club scene.

As I fumbled for an answer, Emmy filled in the blank. "Quentin Tarantino," she said. Damn, the girl was good.

Brian still looked suspicious, but he dropped the subject. "All right. Me and Erik will finish the match then, eh?"

Em and I ran out to the car, then drove to Glasgow.

"What does Raoul want with Gerard and Emmy?" I asked. How strange it was to say my name and not be talking about me.

Em shrugged. "It doesn't make sense. He knows he's lost Christine, why would he kidnap her children?"

I thought a moment. "Maybe to get a response from Erik," I mumbled. I suddenly realized that was exactly what Raoul was doing. "Oh, shit," I whispered. "He's going to kill Erik."

Onyxx: Dun-dun-duuuuun!

Gerry: I still can't believe you said that to me.

Onyxx: You'll get over it. Besides, you're a ladies' man. One woman not loving you isn't going to change a thing.

Gerry: It is too!

Onyxx: Is not!

Gerry: Is too!

Onyxx: Is not!

Gerry: Is too!

Onyxx: Is too!

Gerry: Is not!

Onyxx: HA!

Gerry: D: … You … you … BESSIE!

Onyxx: … You just insulted me in Scottish, you bampot!

Gerry: Where did you learn Scottish insults?

Onyxx: Some website.

Gerry: Oh. Well then. You NUMPTY!

Onyxx: … You just called me an idiot.

Gerry: (face pales) No, no! I didn't!

Onyxx: Yes, you did.

Gerry: I called you … an idiot, yes … but it's an affectionate term! You're an idiot, but you're a sweet idiot!

Onyxx: You called me SWEET? First you insult me by calling me a Bessie. Then you call me a sweet idiot?

Gerry: Fine! Fine! You're an evil idiot!

Onyxx: Oh, so now you admit you called me an idiot!

Gerry: Fine! You're an evil genius! Just don't hurt me!