Act 2 The Ideal

OOC: Sorry if this is delayed, Yahoo hates me.
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The music wafted up to the heights of Paris itself as the grand
Masquerade Ball opened, with dazzling lights and echoing sounds.
Outside the stars shone, looking down upon the dancing couples as
they waltzed through the night.
Standing to one side stood Monsieurs Firmin and Andre, watching as
the dancers moved in perfect time to the music. Monsieur Firmin
smiled as he watched, and turned to whisper to Andre, "It seems that
everything has turned out perfectly."
The troubles with the Phantom were almost forgotten, a tale from
six months past. His flight from the roof of the Opera house was
fast becoming the stuff of memory alone, a story told by mothers to
keep their children from wandering at night (whether on rooftops or
not). Indeed, it seemed that even the memory of the events
themselves were beginning to fade – certainly Christine and Raoul,
dancing there in the centre of the waltzing crowd, were in apparent
bliss.
The two of them smiled at each other as they sidestepped, moving
with the ebb and flow of the tones sounding around them. They were
engaged now, had become engaged shortly after that fateful night on
the rooftop. Of course, it had not transpired quite as might have
been expected (what with the extremely expensive chandelier falling
to the ground and almost killing several people and all), yet now
peace had fallen over the pair once more. The engagement, however,
was to be kept a secret – both of them were that wary, at the very
least – and Christine now wore her engagement ring on a thin golden
chain around her neck.
Unaware of the engagement, Monsieur Firmin nevertheless smiled to
see the pair dancing so happily. The knowledge of their impending
marriage wasn't required to see how much they loved each other.
The figures on the ground spun round and round, the pace of the
music driving them. As the piece reached its crescendo, dancers
began to manoeuvre towards the edge of the dance floor, tired from
the exertion. Soon, only a few remained – Raoul, Christine, and a
few other masked characters.
One that caught the eyes of Firmin and Andre, watching from their
detached position, was a lone figure dressed all in red. Decorated
as a demon, he was the very embodiment of the Red Dwa…Death.
They caught only a glimpse of him, however, as the music ended with
a crashing finale, and all the people around the edge of the room
swarmed forwards again, eclipsing the figures they had seen and
mingling (as is the tradition at any large gathering of strangers).
The ball moved on, carried forwards by its own momentum. More
dances, more music, more people. Soon all was a jumbled whirl of
light and sound, and Firmin and Andre were dragged in along with the
rest. It was not long before they found themselves smiling and
laughing as they too were swung onto the dance floor. And so the
hours passed, and the stars began to fade as the bright sun rose.
Eventually, the people of Paris began to leave, the rising sunlight
telling them, as no other voice could, that the ball was over. Tired
yet satisfied, people began to drift back to the places they called
home.
As Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre went to leave, however, Andre
felt his arm gripped by a vice-like hand. Turning, he saw the Red
Death standing there.
Firmin turned to see what was happening as the Red Death thrust an
envelope into Andre's hands and hissed, "You * will * perform this!"
Before either could say a word, the figure swirled his great red
cape, and as their eyes opened from the involuntary blink, the Red
Death had vanished.
Monsieur Andre stared at the envelope in his hands, and glanced up
at Monsieur Firmin. Then, with trembling hands, he prised apart the
sealed edges and read the top of the page that lay within.
"Don Juan Triumphant," he read aloud, in an awed tone of voice.
The next line confirmed what they both already knew.
"By The Phantom of the Opera."
Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre, Raoul and Christine sat around the
burnished oak table in the managers' office. Monsieur Firmin, red-
faced, slammed his fist down on the surface, making the wood creak in
protest.
"I will NOT be told what to do in my own Opera House!" he raged,
breathing heavily, "We will not perform this…this…outrage!"
As he leaned back in his chair, signalling the end of his
apoplectic rant, Monsieur Andre coughed and spoke.
"This is an outrage, it is true," he said quietly, "But do remember
that last time the Phantom was…disappointed, he sought the
destruction of the Opera House and very nearly killed several
people. If we disappoint him again, there is no telling what he
might stoop to."
His words were quiet, but his brief glance at Christine said more
than a shout ever could. As Christine paled slightly, Raoul looked
between Firmin and Andre.
"So we don't disappoint him," he murmured.
The two managers looked at him, then Firmin frowned.
"I told you, I will not…"
"We shall not need to perform his opera," interrupted Raoul,
holding up a hand, "For we shall capture this evil demon before he is
able to glory in his power. We shall, to say it simply, set a trap
for him."
Firmin and Andre looked at each other, then nodded slowly.
"It would seem that you have a good plan," said Andre, "How would
we set such a trap?"
Raoul nodded as he replied.
"The Phantom wishes to feel his power over us, to witness us doing
his bidding. He will want to be able to see his opera being
performed, and so must be in the Opera House on the night that we
stage the production. If we have men positioned around the Opera
House, we can catch him at the moment when he feels invulnerable, and
bring his entire fantasy world crashing down around him!"
Monsieur Firmin looked at Raoul a moment, and then asked, "You
really hate him, don't you?"
Raoul gritted his teeth.
"Yes," he said, "I do."
"One problem," said Andre, raising a hand, "What if the Phantom
DOESN'T show up?"
"Oh, he will," replied Raoul, "He will, because his favourite
student will be playing the lead role."
So saying, he turned to look at Christine, who blinked as all
attention was placed on her.
"Me?" she asked faintly. The managers and Raoul nodded. She
swallowed nervously.
"Very well," she replied, "If it will mean an end to this, then
very well."
"Don't worry, Christine," said Raoul, taking her hand, "It will."
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OOC: Continued in next post...or rather, rewritten in next post. :)
You'll see...