Nothing stands in your way. It's time for a fight.

The Phantom bent over William, knife in hand. "Curious though I am what brings you here, anyone who invades the sanctity of my lair invites ****. Goodbye, stranger..." He raised the blade and was about to plunge it into William's neck when, faster than a man could blink, William leapt to his feet and wrapped his hands--now paws--around the Phantom's neck. The other man squawked in surprise but did not yield even to William's superior strength, and for a moment they struggled, light from the fallen torch casting their shadows long across the wall.

William looked quite different now, his teeth suddenly sharp and his face suddenly a pointed, wolfish muzzle. The arms that grappled with the Phantom were matted with hair and ended in claws. William snarled and howled as they fought. The Phantom kept a ****-grip on the handle of his knife. Finally he managed to break free for a moment and, cape swirling, he turned and ran down the tunnel. William pursued him, but just a few feet further on the Phantom stepped onto a particular set of tiles and, with a grinding of unseen gears, the floor became a trapdoor that whisked him away, opening a shaft down into some even darker catacomb below this one. William peered over the edge. He could follow...but he had a job to do here. He left the torch behind. He could see much better in the dark now, and besides, there was candlelight up ahead...

Here a narrow bridge with no rails led across the murky depths of an underground lake, and on the other side was a cave filled with the most fantastic things: embroidered curtains and fine rugs and baroque furniture of fine mahogany, plates of gold and tableware of silver, and mirrors framed with precious stones, and in the midst of it all an enormous pipe organ with polished ivory keys that gleamed even in the dark. William growled, impressed. But where in all this finery was he going to find the thing he was looking for?

His nostrils quivered; someone else was here. Following the scent, he came to a canopied bed with silken curtains. Drawing them aside, he was surprised to find a beautiful young woman asleep. No, he realized, not asleep: ****. Her hands were even tied. She wore a Moorish costume and William did not doubt that, somewhere up above in the Opera House, she was missing her cue. The scent of perfumed flesh stirred desire in William, but he paused. Perhaps she could help him find what he was here for. Then again, maybe he should just help himself to her instead?