In My Darkness: La Chatte Noire

Chapter One: Pursue and Destroy

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This is the first chapter of my Phantom Fanfiction.

Disclaimer: I do not own le Fantome de l'Opera, nor anything affiliated therein, all I own is my main character and all associated with her.

I do hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think. The main character will answer questions from you just the same as I will, and, in all honesty, will probably answer to you anyway unless you address it to me.

Thank you, and enjoy the beginnings.

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Chapter One: Pursue and Destroy

Her feet made no sound as she raced along the Parisian streets, darting in and out of alleyways, trying to lose her pursuer. Was it really necessary for him to follow her all the way to France? She'd tried time and time again to lose him, throw him off her scent. Alas, each and every time she'd thought she'd finally outsmarted him, he came to meet her at her destination and the chase began anew. It was as if she was allowed no rest. Of course, this made perfect sense to her. He was the deadliest of her colleagues – for the simple reason that he chased his quarries until they became too fatigued to fight, then took their lives in whatever way he deemed fitting. Which meant that she'd most likely die in the way that his unfortunate servant had. It was truly the servant's fault for upsetting her, he should have known better. Besides, he probably needed a better serving boy than that one, anyway.

It was as if she could feel his eyes boring a hole in the back of her skull. She shook off her discomfort and focused on her escape. A huge building loomed in the distance, and she recognized it from pictures – l'Opera Populaire. She'd always wanted to go there, but with her busy and demanding life, had never found the time. What better time than the present? She smirked at her own idea. The pace of her feet increased as the rain began falling around her, causing her feet to make small splashing noises as she ran. Cursed rain! This was going to make her escape far more difficult – it was easier to catch a target you could hear as opposed to one as silent as the night surrounding them.

As they neared the building, she feinted running for the doors, only to run for the side of the building instead. All buildings have a back entrance, right? Her speed made her able to lose him for just a moment before she heard his heavy steps echoing in the alley behind her. A quick turn of the corner and her escape route lay before her – not the back door; that would be too easy. No, she was aiming for the small gate next to it that she knew must lead to the Populaire's underground lake. It was well-known for that lake, she'd heard it talked of often. It supposedly supplied all of the opera house's running water, and she had to admit that it was a brilliant plan, unlike anything else in Paris. She liked it even more because she knew it could hide her for a while. At least, she hoped it could.

The gate opened without a sound, much to her surprise. For a gate that she thought would be little-used, it was certainly well oiled. Her feet crunched on the sand as she neared the lake, hearing the steps of the man behind her echo around the corridor. They sounded far nearer than they should have been. Suddenly, someone tugged on her arm and she found herself face to face with the one she'd been running from.

"Caught you, ya lil' wench," he growled, and she writhed in his grasp.

"Let me go, you fool!" she demanded in flawless English.

His breath reeked with the stench of alcohol and tobacco – a deadly combination. It meant that she'd put up a good chase, for which she was undeniably proud of herself, but that he was not only experiencing the temporary high of tobacco but the loss of inhibitions attributed to alcohol as well, increasing his rage to a frightening level. She'd always avoided those substances, for the simple reason that she didn't want to lose control of herself like he had done. This did not bode well for her if she lost her senses and allowed him to get the better of her. But she wouldn't make that mistake. He may have the brute strength of an ox and the nose of a bloodhound, but he lacked the agility and speed that she was quite well known for. This could, if used correctly, give her a potent advantage.