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Ascent to Power	By : Hot4Gerry Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5436 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
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- 15
Recovery and Reclaim
Nadir started his campaign to leave New York after the holidays. The city was too noisy, too dirty, everyone was in such a hurry and spoke too fast for Nadir to comprehend half of what was said to him. He complained of anything and everything.
Nadir spoke fluent English from the days when he was in Persia and many of the women in the harem were from English speaking countries. Kidnapped and brought to the harem no doubt by slave traders. Slavery had not been Nadir’s concern in Persia. From the time he had brought Erik from Russia, at the request of the Shah, Nadir’s sole purpose was to keep a watchful eye on the illusive and crafty Frenchman brought for the Shah as an architect and magician for entertainment at the court of the Shah.
Erik questioned Nadir's sudden loss of comprehension of the English language as he had shown no problem in England. Nadir surmised it was the way the locals butchered the language with their local colloquialisms. Erik agreed with him on that point. These Americans could take a perfectly good word and mangle it beyond recognition.
Erik had no love for the city but grumbled about starting again. Money can be made from any location with communication, prosperity and banking facilities. The choice of location was an every widening arena as civilization moved westward. The South looked promising. The growth since the war was phenomenal. New industries were emerging as the rail system stretched further and improved. Having access to the ocean for shipping and importing was a must. Virginia looked to be the most promising. There was even a modern opera house there. This tipped the balance in favor of Virginia but Erik still procrastinated making a firm decision. With Erik dragging his feet Nadir had to find some inducement to help make his decision easier and more forthright. As luck would have it an unexpected helping hand came by way of the news in the papers.
The crime rate made Nadir wish he could pull out his police credentials once more. The crime rate was so bad even Erik hesitated to go out without his Punjab lasso, knife and boot hidden in his boot.
The newspapers were carrying the story of the indictment of William Marcy Tweed or as he was known in Tammany Hall and around the criminal element as Boss Tweed, furthered Erik’s disenchantment with this city. The man was known as a bully as well as for his association with the criminals known as the Forty Thieves gang. The announcement of his indictment for larceny and forgery disgusted Erik. Funds had been mishandled and several questionable contracts had been made to associates of Boss Tweed and some funneled to his own company left the city in an uproar. Politicians wanting to disassociate themselves from the scandal withdrew any contact with the now suspect individual. Everyone denied even knowing the man personally. The rats were jumping the sinking ship quickly.
Perhaps a little jealousy came into play, as Erik did not have the same power here as he had in Paris. He had bullied the managers of The Paris Opera House for many years. Since he was a young man just turning twenty he had them under his ghostly thumb. Now he was a mere man with wealth. There was a certain power in that but it was not the same as the fear of just the sound of a voice. The fear on an unseen figure lurking in the dark. Nadir did think at times Erik missed his ghostly persona and the fear he invoked in everyone. He was correct. Erik missed that heady rush off power over the lives of others.

A few weeks after Christmas an incident took place that made Nadir's request much more acceptable to Erik. Erik was on his way home from a gaming facility where he had spent a prosperous evening playing a game of cards with a few rich gentlemen who were lighter in their wallets as Erik left.
Barely a block from the gaming hall Erik was attacked by four men. Normally this would not have bothered Erik in the slightest. His whole life had been a fight for one thing or another. Combat between him and more than one assailant was nothing new to Erik. Erik could fight with the best of them. This night he had drank a considerable amount of wine at dinner and several glasses of whiskey at the club. To say he was slightly inebriated would be a just statement. For this reason Erik had refused the offer of a quick fuck in the back of a carriage of Diane, Denise, Danielle or whatever the fuck her name was. She had wanted him to join her for a quick fuck before she returned to her doddering husband. Erik thught in his condition he might embarrass himself so he had declined. In light of the events that occured later he would much rather have fucked and disapointed a lady than take a beating any day.
Taking Erik by surprise the men jumped Erik taking his valuables. That alone humiliated the proud man in the mask. Each of the men took a turn pounding a fist into Erik’s face and body. The beating he took from the largest man hurt his pride in no small measure.
Erik had apparently gotten a few damaging punches on the largest man’s face. Being a professional pugilist when not committing petty crimes the man became just a little put out. Instructing the other three to stand guard in the alley he began to beat Erik as he had not been beaten since his days in the Gypsy carnival as the freak attraction and later his last days in Persia as the enemy of the Shah and Khanum.
Erik could hold his own with the best of them but he did not learn the art of fist fighting. His battles were mostly with weapons. He was proficient with many weapons. He regarded his hands as instruments of music not weapons. The man Ox as Erik heard him called, beat Erik within an inch of his life.
Knowing he could not win this fight Erik did his best to defend himself. If he survived he wanted revenge. With this in mind he picked each mans pocket taking their wallets and any identification they might have. His grasp on their shoulders as he was hit and knocked about the alley were only half faked. Mostly they were real attempts to stay on his feet. Luckily he still had the presence of mind to use his slight of hand to get the information he needed. Erik is the only person Nadir knew who could be enduring the worst beating of his life and consider revenge while implementing a means of identifying his assailants at the same time.
"Gents this be my fight. A fortnight tis' been since I last laid glove or fist on a man. This fine gent will no mind sparin' a wee bit. You'd no' be denyin' me now would ya'? If ya' would no mind I’ll be takin' the mask. That leather does sting a mite. I canna' have me hands busted now can I?"
Making comments about his mask the larger mean eyed man hit Erik in his face several times. The man's ham hock fists nearly broke Erik's cheek bone. In one swift move of his hand he removed Erik's mask. Stepping back at Erik's roar of anger the man quickly recovered then momentarily froze when the light reflecting from the street lamp just for a fraction of a second illuminated Erik's tragic face. Now more frightening than before because of the cuts on the left side of his face causing him to be covered in blood. The mask had somewhat protected his right side which already had the permanent horrors of his face. The mask was almost completely crimson with blood as it lay at their feet with a hollow blank stare. Anyone could be excused for thinking it a horrific sight. The mask and his face.
"Merciful God in heaven. Tis' the devil's own bairn before me. Do ye be searchin' for souls this fine evenin'? The devil will no be takin' ole Ox O'Sullivan's soul. I may have a noddin' friendship with the devil but he'll no' get me soul. Me dear Ma' would rise from her grave at such a thing."
Knowing he could not return the pain of contact with his fists as the man was extremely skilled Erik spent the time between jarring hits to his body studying the men. These faces he would remember and the next time it would be his turn to administer the pain. Most certainly his mind contemplated the rush of power he would feel as they beg for their miserable lives after he played with them a bit of course. Take pleasure in what you do tonight for the next time we meet will be your last night to draw breath. This was Erik's solemn vow.
During his monologue the man called Ox continued to pummel Erik as if they were opponents in a ring. A few rights then a left. All the while bouncing around on his toes. Erik thought if the damn man would just stand in one spot for a moment he might get more than one or two blows in. He had made contact and drew a little blood from the his adversary. Not a sufficient amount to cause any real damage. Just enough for Erik to salvage a little of his pride. Having at last tired himself sufficiently the man called Ox O’Sullivan bid him good-bye with a smile. His cohorts followed him out of the alley and down the street.
Erik painfully staggered out of the alley. As pain shot into his chest at each breath he took he felt fairly certain a few ribs were either cracked or broken. Luckily it was his marred face that received most of the injuries. A couple of cuts on the right side was all Erik could feel upon investigating with his fingers.
It took a while to flag down a cab willing to take him as a pasenger. Flagging down a cab he gave his address. Hesitation on the drivers part turned to eagerness when Erik produced several bills from his boot. That was one lesson Erik had learned long ago. Always have spare funds available. As luck would have it the men had only wanted cash and not a warm coat or boots. Many on the street would value those two items over coins in the hand.
Erik slumped down on the comfortable leather armchair. He ached in every muscle. His face felt as if it had been slammed into a large stone several times. Shakily he retrieved the wallets out of his coat pocket grateful he had worn a coat instead of his cloak although the cloak could have served as a weapon. Erik was doubtful that one item would have changed the outcome in his favor. He simply must learn the art of fisticuffs.
Erik could throw a hard punch with enough force to cause damage but against a knowledgeable fighting opponent he had little chance when caught unprepared for an attack and not quite steady on his feet. Clear headed and sober he more than likely could have put up more resistance.
Going through his pockets he noticed his house key had been lost in the shuffle. Damn. Could this fucking night get any worse? He'd have to pick the lock to get in. Carrying his lock pick set was one habit he was glad he had not fiven up. Regardless he was haveing a fucking spare key made. He would simply loosen one of the bricks hiding the key behind it.
Arriving home he discovered he would not be able to slip into his room unnoticed as he wished. Nadir was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace waiting. He pretended he was reading but Erik knew he had been waiting for his return. It had been the same since coming to this country. For some reason Nadir did not trust these Americans. Perhaps it was there lax concerns with the propriety of old world manners. Nadir could be a stickler for etiquette. At times even more so than Erik.
"Good heavens Erik. What happened? Is this a result of an inebriated fall? Not to point out the negative but your face is, to be blunt, quite a gruesome sight. I do believe your eye will be swollen shut by morning. The cut above your eye may need to be stitched. Your slumped posture would seem to indicate some rib damage as well."
"Could you stop taking inventory of my injuries and perhaps get me the medical kit and some ice?"
"Do not snap at me because your evening of debauchery ended in some mishap. Countless times I have told you that your carousing would at some point come to a nasty end. I have been proved correct in my observation."
"Damn it stop the sanctimonious lecture and help me or get the hell to bed. If I had excepted the offer to fuck whatever her name was I would have missed being fucked over by these thugs." Pain made Erik a little less tolerant if one could ever call Erik tolerant at any time.
Nadir silently left the room and Erik collapsed into the armchair Nadir had recently vacated. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It had been many years since he had been beaten so severely. Not since his escape from Persia in fact had he suffered any physical abuse.
Nadir returned and silently waited for Erik to open his eyes. His face looked as if many punches had landed hard blows on his cheek and lips. There was a gash just above his right eye. Erik would be thankful it was on the side he covered with a mask. There appeared to be bruising on his neck that continued down into his shirt. No doubt his ribs were either just bruised or broken. Erik continued to press his arm across his waist pressing against his ribs with his hand. He took short shallow breaths to ease the pain. His injuries did not look serious only extremely painful. Knowing Erik the loss of his pride at having been beaten so severely would hurt as much or more than the beating. May Allah take pity on those who committed this horrible act. Erik would not forgive or forget such an action. He would eventually seek revenge and only a merciful god could save the perpetrators of this crime. Nadir could be safe in saying it was more than one man. If it were only one or two men Erik might have a bruise or two but nothing like he was suffering now.
"Well are you going to stand hovering over me or will you tend to my injuries? You took so long I assumed you had left me to my own devices."
"What have I told you about the word assume and being an ass? If you assume it makes an ass of you and me. I was only waiting for you to acknowledge me and tell me when you were ready. Do not snipe at me. I did not beat you although there have been times I have been sorely tempted. Now tell me what happened while I repair the damage. If you do not stop this abuse to your face soon you will resemble that monster we spoke of before. Do not give me that cross look. This is your own fault you know. I have told you many times that if you are going to stay out getting into mischief at night you should buy a coach and hire your own driver. Then you would have your ride already outside the door of the gaming hall or wherever you spend your time. Perhaps now you will admit I was correct and listen to me."
"How the hell can this be my fault? I did not go looking for someone and ask them to use my face as a punching bag. Speaking about punching bags I wish to find a teacher of the art of pugilism. My skills are somewhat lacking and I wish to remedy this immediately. I have an appointment with three men in the near future." As he spoke he removed the wallets from his pocket. He read the names and looked through the wallets. How ironic. The wallet of the man he knew as Ox had more cash than he had taken from Erik as Erik had put his winnings in his boot as he always did when he had a large amount of cash. Tonight's winnings had not been great but enough to want to hide from prying eyes and greedy pick pocketing hands. Thus the larger portion of cash had been in his boot.
"Erik what have you got there?" Nadir stretched his neck so far Erik thought he might fall to the floor. "Well what have you got? Do not even waste breath telling me to mind my own business. I demand to know this minute young man what sort of mischief you are planning."
"Nadir now you are beginning to sound like my mother. If I had one that is."
"Of course you had one idiot. Everyone has one. Yours just did not relish the roll. I do not enjoy my roll as the peacekeeper in your life. I long for the time you find a woman who can control your fluctuating moods. You are a hard man to manage."
Erik threw the wallets onto the side table. His mind was not on revenge per say. He was wondering how to go about finding himself someone who might teach him what he required. "These are the wallets of my attackers. Now I will know exactly who I am going to be killing in the near future. Before you bring up any promises I may have made during a moment of vulnerability let me say that this is a matter of honor. Besides the removal of these men will not be such a great loss to society."
"I swear Erik you are the only person I know being beaten about the head who would think to pick the pockets of the men attacking you in order to exact revenge. As for them not being missed how can you say that with surety? Perhaps they have families to support. People who love them dearly."
"Nadir the type of men who did this to me are not saintly. If they had families they would have been snuggled up next to a warm body instead of out looking for victims. Trust me these men have no one waiting at home for them unless it is an officer of the law or another person of ill repute. In the morning I would like for you to inquire discretely who the most proficient pugilist is in New York. As I said earlier I wish to perfect my skills. I’ll not be beaten senseless again. Since you abhor my own method of defense I must learn another."
Erik bided his rime. Watched from the shadows as he stalked his prey. That was how he saw them. not as men but prey. Vermin to be removed as one would kill a rat. His skills returned more quickly than he thought. Each night he donned his cloak the power of his former persona invaded him taking him close to the edge where he lost control. Erik kept a tight reign on himself. He would remove only he ones necessary. In his past he would have stalked only as a means to trap and kill his prey. now he watched and observed to learn what the punishment for each man would be. He was sure he wanted to kill each man. His new found conscience forced him to consider all avenues of punishment.
He had to fight his inclination to deal out swift justice in the manner he used in Paris and Persia. He was a different man with different goals. He knew the veneer of control was very thin. He must keep a vigilant watch or he would lose himself in the darkness. Whenever he felt himself beginning to give into that old darkness that filled his soul he would take out the white feather from his breast pocket and remember. Remember what he had done and his promise to change.
This time he would not rush to seek his revenge. He would take his time. After all was it not sweeter to anticipate some reward or pleasure then slowly be given your prize?

A/N: Please review. i know you are out there reading. Please review. Whether you like it, hate it or think it's hohum. Review.
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Ascent to Power