FicWad

The Phantom of the Opera novel copyright Gaston Leroux (But he's kinda dead)
The Phantom of the Opera musical copyright Andrew Lloyd Webber
Hellsing copyright Kohta Hirano
Any OC's belong to me or their original owners

Characters:
Nosferatu Alucard- Erik [aka the Phantom]
Integral Hellsing- Christine Daae
Elder Girly-card- Raoul de Chagny
Seras Victoria- Madame Giry
Yumiko Takagi- Meg Giry
Walter Dornez- The Persian [or rather Wallachian]
Enrico Maxwell [in girl form]- Carlotta Gudicelli
Pip Bernadotte- Joseph Bouquet
Alexander Anderson- Piangy [I forgot his first name. So sue me]
The Managers- Random characters that belong to me (no stealing)

[Please excuse my bad attempt at German accents]


You see that burned down building over there? That used to be one of the most famous buildings in all of England. What? You don't believe me? It true. I was /there/. I saw it all, heard it all. Lives were changed there. People died, and were reborn, all in the name of the art of murder.
I can see you still doubt the words of an old man. I'm not senile, you'll see! oh how you'll see. Let me tell you it's most famous tale. The tale of a talented, young hunter, and the two men she loved.
The story of the Vampire of the Opera.

Hm? No, don't be ridiculous. Of course the hunters did not sing and dance. I suppose I should have explained earlier. The building used to be an Opera house many years ago; long before the time of our huntress and her lover. Though . . . it is arguable about her second-

Ah! Nevermind! The Opera house was converted into a training ground and showroom for hunters of monsters. Werewolves, vampires, the general undead.

It was an exciting night at the Opera House. One of the lead hunters, Rip van Winkle, was retiring, thus spurring the current managers to give her a proper, and rater large, send off. Our lovely huntress was preparing herself for the reception when she was disturbed by a swarm of novices. Their leader, Schrödinger, leapt into her pale arms, his eyes brimming with tears. "Oh Rip! It's terrible! Terrible!" He cried.
The other green-horns joined in his outburst in a cacophonous sound that would have shamed a clan of banshees. Rip called for silence and stroked the hair her favorite novice. "Vat's wrong, Schrö?" She asked soothingly.
"It-it-it's Heinkel. She vas exploring the basements vhen-vhen-"
"The Phantom got her!" Shrieked a black-haired girl with a swarthy complexion.
Rip's eyes narrowed. "I vould have expected more from you, Yumiko. Ze Phatom ist a superstition. There's no such thing." As much as she loved the children, they grew annoying with their wails and tears and foolish beliefs.
"Yes there is!" Piped up a somewhat androgynous youth near the very back.
"Oh really?" Skepticism was written all over our huntress's face.
"Yes," Replied Incognito. "Many people have seen him, including Bernadotte."
/They'll let anyone become a hunter nowadays/, thought Rip. "Ugh! That lecher. He is drunk half of the time."
"He vasn't vhen he saw the Phantom," Added a half-tattooed girl. "I heard it from Heinkel before she- she-"
"DIED!" Schrödinger buried his face in her lap.
Rip rolled her eyes. "Explain, Zorin."
"Vell, it vas like this. Bernadotte vas walking around ze basement, looking for ze ropes he dropped through a trap door at ze last performance. Vhen he got there, he saw a man in a blood-red coat und firey red eyes. He said the man's skin vas so pale, he looked like he vas dead. The man muttered some vords und Bernadotte blacked out. Next, he found himself upstairs with his rope."
"That doesn't prove it vas the--" Rip's words were drowned out by the novices. A vein throbbed in her temple as she shouted. "There is no Phantom of the Opera!"
Her words echoed ominously. The girls among them shivered, except for one. Yumiko stepped forward and straightened her glasses. "There is. There is a Phantom!"
Our huntress laughed at her. "And you have proof of this?"
"My mom told me--" Yumiko's eyes widened in shock. She bit her bottom lip and muttered something unintellible.
Rip's smirk curled in triumph. Her violet-red eyes turned towards the open door of her chambers. "Vhat is it, Fräulein Schroff?"
Her half-German manager entered, a serious look on her visage. "The party is starting in fifteen minutes. I suggest you put Heinkel's death at the back of your mind for now and focus on getting ready."
"Scheisse," Rip cursed and pushed Schrödinger from his comfy position on her lap. "Out, all of you!"
With that, Rip van Winkle slammed the door and locked it, taking care to hide the key in the corset beneath her silk red dress. It was a present from her manager, and quite tasteful at that. Rip sighed. So much to do . . .

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Huzzah. Please review/rate. I'll try to get the next scene up.
Danke
~CFH