Lost In Time

4. Bonjour Opéra Fantôme

Faith's POV

I had felt the rope go around my neck, but get caught on my hand. A dark chuckle bounced off the walls, and hot air encased the back of my head. Shivers went down my spine. He is real. The Phantom of The Opera is real, alive, and has a Punjab Lasso around my neck.

"Ah. Un rat intelligent que je vois?" His French and angelic deep voice engulfed my ears. Goosebumps appeared on my arms. I had to stay strong, or he'd kill me on the spot.

"Hello Monsieur Opera Ghost. What a surprise." I said in a monotone voice. I was slightly alarmed, but I am not going to admit it to him!

He was quiet for a second, probably taking note that I was American. He leant down, pulling my back a bit by the lasso and whispered in my ear, "Good afternoon, Mademoiselle." His French accent was thick as he spoke fluent English. I tried not to shiver at it.

"I would like to know why you are roaming the catacombs. Do you not know it is not safe to be near the Opera Ghost's lair? Oh well, perhaps not. You are American are you not?" He taunted me.

I gulped, "O-of course I know. I was actually dropped off here by...someone... on accident. And I had lost my way. I had no intention to be here, really." I half lied.

"Oh? Really?" He said amused.

"Mhm. Now would you be so kin-"

I was interrupted by him tightening the rope around my hand and neck.

"NO!" He bellowed, "I know you are lying to me! Speak the truth or I will end your life as suddenly as it began! You are trying my patience!"

My eyes widened and I quickly closed them. 'Ugh. This was going to be tough. Try a different approach...'

"I'll have you know Monsieur Erik," I chuckled darkly, two could play this game, "I know more about you than you think. you are the one trying my patience..."

The Phantom froze. "How'd you know my name?" He asked, trying to keep his composure.

I smiled into the darkness...'This was going to be fun. I've got him spooked.'

He loosened his hold from confusion of my sudden silence. 'Here's my chance!' I turned around to face him, poking his chest with my finger.

"I know a lot about you Erik. And I have to say, I'm quite surprised that you know English."

His eyes widened and he backed up, hitting the wall. He looked down at me. He was about 6'5, towering over me greatly. I went up to around his chest. I was tall for my age. He was too. His profile was a mix of the all the Phantom stories. He was tall and lanky, and had a right half face mask. He had a nose and pale skin. His eyes were a yellow/gold color.

"What do you want, you wench." He spat. I raised an eyebrow at him, taking the lasso off of my neck with one hand. The other one trapping the right side of his body.

"Just because I wear trousers, doesn't mean I'm a prostitute." I placed the hand on the side of him on my hip. The one with the lasso, pointed towards him. "Second of all buttercup, I'm here on a mission, and I need your cooperation."

He glared at me, and stood high and mighty. "Why should I help a girl like you." He growled, coming forward a step.

I smirked. "You're a tough cookie ain't cha?" I patted his shoulder. He stepped back.

He raised an eyebrow at me, probably highly confused at my language, "Do all Americans talk this slang and jibberish."

I shrugged, "Some people do. A lot of the slang is fun, some of it is just down right stupid though." I crinkled my nose a bit. I quickly stopped and waved my hand slightly. "Besides, I like the arts and theater. Sophisticated stuff. You know, classics. I only talk slang when I feel excited or intimidated."

At first he seemed surprised at my answer, he probably was interested that I liked the arts. But then his expression changed. He smiled mischievously, pushing off the wall and slowly stalking towards me, "And which one are you? Intimidated perhaps?" He got right in front of me, staring me down with his cat-like eyes, his head cocked to the side a bit.

"No-pe" I said, popping the "p". "I'm actually really excited." I looked down the tunnel and bounced on my toes a little, "I wanna look around a little later. Also, I have no place to go, don't ask please. And I don't want to go to Madame Giry, she is the one who intimidates me." I shivered.

He raised an eyebrow at my answer, but then chuckled, "That makes two of u- hey wait. How'd you know about Antoinette? And why are you in my tunnels."

I frowned a bit, "First of all, these are the Opera House's tunnels. Second of all, it's a long story." I looked away.

He walked a little ways ahead of me, "Why are you keeping so many secrets from me?" He inquired, rubbing the unmasked part of his face, annoyed.

I sighed. "Because I'm here to help you. I won't explain yet. But I will soon. If you let me stay with you. That's all I ask." I pleaded with my eyes.

He turned his head and just looked at me, probably not believing my story.

"Please let me explain. And you could have a different life. Not be seen as the monster you think you are." I pleaded, 'Dang I sound like I'm in a chic flick.' I thought, slightly amused.

He stared into my eyes and all these emotions swirling in his features. Finally after a few minutes of silence, he spoke up.

"Follow me." His voice rang trough the tunnels. He then swirled his cloak around him and took off into the darkness.

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