Steele mocked, as he passed the husky yet again, as she was barely making it to the gate. The malamute laughed triumphantly, as he was running at top speed towards the bench.

   Steele skidded to a halt, as he finally reached the bench, and slapped his paw down on the bench's seat.

   "I win!" He exclaimed, but as soon as he looked over to see if Jenna was coming, she suddenly appeared in front of him, and tackled him to the ground. The two landed in a heap on the cool grass, with Jenna on top of Steele's chest, and Steele on his back.

   "Well…*pant…I just...*pant…pinned the…*pant…famous Steele de Chagny," She said, panting hard, "So, that means I…*pant…win."

   They then broke into playful laughter, as they snuggled up next to each other. It almost felt like they were pups again, wrestling and rolling around on the sandy beach at Perros. Jenna felt happy, even more than when she got that applause at the Gala. It was a feeling that made her feel all warm inside, with Steele licking her face.

   "Oh, Stephen, I'm so glad we remembered each other." Jenna said, as they lay on the grass on their backs, their paws dangling in the air. "I always thought you wouldn't recognize me."

   "That's weird, because I thought so too." The malamute replied, turning his head to the husky, "I mean, you didn't seem to recognize my face, or our past, even when I told you that I did in fact remember our childhood."

   Jenna seemed confused at this, "But, I did remember you, even before that."

   "Wait, so if you did remember me, and my face, and my name, then why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you ask me about it?"

   "It's because we haven't seen each other in so long." She answered, "It's been 15 years, Steele. Do you think I'd remember you after all this time?"

   This question seemed to tick the malamute off, his happy mood started to fade away. Was she trying to make him look stupid? Do you think I'd remember you after all this time? He repeated in his head.

   "So, you didn't remember me, did you?" Steele said, turning over on his side.

   "Steele, I said we haven't seen each in a long time. I've seen other dogs all over the place, and you were just one. Do you think that I would remember that easily? We just met each other again yesterday, remember?"

   "Oh, I see, you'd remember other dogs instead of me? Is that it?" He said his annoyance and frustration coming out.

   "Steele," Jenna said, clearly seeing that he was getting upset, "I never said that,"

   "But you said you didn't remember me, and yet, you also said you did, despite us not having met since yesterday! So, what is this? What are you doing? Do you think I'm stupid or something?" He asked, raising his voice.

   "I'm not doing anything, Steele." Jenna said, almost hurt at his accusation, "Why would you say something like that?"

   "I don't know, maybe because you don't care about me or about our friendship?"

   "Steele, please don't get upset." She pleaded, putting a paw on the malamutes, "I do care about our friendship, I really do, but I've been busy doing other things, making new friends and companions, and trying to go on with my life, but that doesn't mean I'll forget about you."

   "No, you shouldn't think about that. Why can't you just see that there are more important things in your life…like me?" The malamute exclaimed. This last statement made the husky get up from her spot on the grass.

   "Well, if you're going act like this, I don't think being friends should be an option anymore." She said, obviously upset by Steele's spoiled attitude.

   "Hey, Jen, wait!" He cried, as the husky started walking away. "Where are you going?"

   "I'm going back to my apartment," She said, before pausing and saying coldly, "I guess the one who's really changed is you, Stephen…or should I say, Steele de Chagny." She then walked away, leaving the malamute by himself on the grass.

Chapter 4

   The Inspector of Police had just entered the building that held the agency Préfecture de Police, which was part of the National Police of France. Monsieur Jean-Claude, a German Shepard from birth, had held the position of Inspector for the past 10 years, and was renowned as being one of the most brilliant and intelligent officers of the law that patrolled the streets of Paris, despite his young age. He had broad shoulders, a lean figure, but one with a rather straight back, with a customary officer uniform that was occasionally covered by a trench coat, with a top hat atop his skull. His entire form demanded the respect of all Parisians, (and one that the ladies swooned over).

   The Shepard's reputation as Inspector had first begun as an amateur detective, and whilst he was bright for his age, he had not exactly earned the respect of the older officers, who saw him as being far too young to be part of the police force, especially from the late Inspector Larsan. However, their tone soon changed when the young detective proceeded to take on the infamous Yellow Room Case, which detailed gruesome images of a severely injured prostitute named Mademoiselle Stangerson inside the Château de Glandier. It was said that it was a case that was nearly impossible to solve, as the assaulter had not been identified or found, and it was said that he had mysteriously vanished from behind the locked yellow-painted room.

   Eventually, after a long court session, and endless investigations, it was soon found that the one who murdered the prostitute was in fact Monsieur Inspector Larsan, having suffered from a personality disorder, confessed to this during his trial, having made several attempts on Stangerson's life. He was soon sentenced to an asylum shortly after. Without an Inspector in office, Monsieur Jean-Claude was soon enlisted as Paris's new Inspector of Police by his fellow colleagues, having tackled one of France's most difficult and complex cases.

   Over those 10 years, tackling criminals was no doubt his specialty, and he did it with pristine intelligence and skill, yet, something was lacking terribly in the city of Paris. There wasn't a case that he couldn't solve, and for the most part, they were all too easy for his taste. They were mostly would-be murderers, rapists, thieves, and smugglers. His interest hadn't been peaked in a long time, and he had been itching for a case that would really tense up his fur with excitement.

   The Shepard was sitting at his desk inside his office, as his emerald shaded eyes were set on a letter that had been written to him from the Canine. This particular letter had come from one of the Managers that read:

   To Inspector of Police,

   I have received report from one of the waiters of the Café de'l Opera that a few items have gone missing from their storage room. I do hope that you have the time to come here to see this problem.

   Sincerely,

   Kaltag Moncharmin

   P.S. Once you are finished, it is with great honor that my colleagues and I discuss a few issues that have been going on in this Opera House with you.

   The Inspector pondered for a moment (something that he was known for, as he was a deep thinker) and started coming up with a few theories. With the idea of small items such as food being taken, it was common sense to believe that this must be the work of some petty thief who managed to get into the storage room unseen.

   Petty theft yet again, the Shepard thought, not too interesting, but it's my job. As Jean Claude got up from his desk to fetch his trench coat, Monsieur Babet, one of the apprentice detectives, came into the room.

   "Off to catch another cat thief, Jean-Claude?" He chuckled, as he leaned against the door of the office, a puff of smoke coming out of his mouth.

   "It's possible, yes." The Shepard replied, fixing the buttons on his coat, "The thief decided to attack the Opera Canine. It's truly something, a thief stealing from an Opera House."

   "The Canine? I see…" The brown husky grinned, taking another puff from his cigar, "Take care, Inspector, of the Opera Ghost."

   Jean-Claude was just about to reach for his hat off the coat rack, when he stopped, his ears perking up at the term "Opera Ghost."

   "I'm sorry, what was that?" He asked the detective, taking his hat off the rack.

   "I said, take care of the Opera Ghost, Monsieur Inspector." Babet repeated.

   "And what, dare I say, is this Opera Ghost?"

   "You don't know, Inspector?" A confused expression came on the huskies face, "Ask anyone at the Canine and they'll tell you all about it. He's said to have a fiery skull head, and can pass through the walls in a black mist!"

   Now, one would easily be amused at the thought of a ghost, especially one that would haunt an Opera