Chapter One: The New Ring Holder
The sounds of the insects buzzing around and the heat of the sun made work outside in the open with little shade miserable for the various men in orange jumpsuits being forced to work along a dirt road. They were under constant watch by armed guards in blue uniforms and caps who stood in the shade or walked about to watch over the prisoners. On the back of the orange jumpsuits were the words 'Justice Department New Atlanta' while on the front right pocket was the number given to them. Each of them had a pick axe, using it to dig new foundation for trenches and such. No one had the choice to refuse work unless they wanted to be taken into the woods and shot.
The states of the prisoners were mixed. Some looked strong while others looked weak. Most were tired and feeling fatigue as they had been out there for at least four hours with little water and food. However, there were three things these prisoners all had in common: They were all from the same prison, they hated the guards and most importantly, they were prisoners of war being forced to build the enemy military positions for their war effort. The guards purposely dressed them like regular jail prisoners while treating them harshly and kept them separated from the regular prisoners so no one could report the illegal and harsh activities against the prison system.
One POW, a young man, just several months shy of being eighteen, would take a moment to wipe his brown with his sleeve. In response to this, a guard walked over and punched him on the right side, causing him to fall over and holding his side. "You didn't get permission to pause your work didn't you, boy? So get back to your feet and get back to work!"
He would groan slowly and hold his side for a moments while on the ground. The young man was a Hispanic with short messy black hair soaked with sweat and his dark tan face covered with sweat, bruises and dirt. He would slowly open his eyes as he breathed in some air, his brown eyes staring up at the guard who punched him in the side. Unsteadily he would try to get to his feet only to stumble and fall. The guard would give an evil grin and motioned for his fellow companion to come over. "It appears we have someone unable to work anymore. You know what to do."
"Oh I do know what to do." He would give a smile as he grabbed the prisoner by his arm and started dragging him towards the woods. He would slowly shake his head and weakly tried to struggle.
"No...Please don't...I don't want to die!" He begged, looking at his fellow POWs who were somber and some gave a silent prayer for him. The guard would ignore him as he started to drag him into the woods. His jumpsuit pants would start to get stained green on the backside as he was dragged through grass and shrubbery. He would feel the bushes scratch up his arms and legs along with one to his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood that slowly dripped down his face.
"Ain't no one gonna save you, boy, and I hope you rot in hell when I kill you." The guard sneered as he dragged him for twenty more minutes, a good distance away from the road. He would soon let go of his arm and watched with glee as the POW slowly struggled to his feet, his back facing him. The guard readied his submachine gun and walked over to force the POW onto his knees. "Don't worry. I will make sure my face is the last you ever-"
He was cut off right when the POW turned swiftly and drove a makeshift shiv into the side of his neck. The guard gasped and dropped his SMG to grab his neck once the POW swiftly and violently yanked it forward. The front of his jumpsuit was stained with the spatter of blood and the shiv coated with it. The guard would slowly slump to the floor gasping for air and choking on his own blood. The POW granted mercy, driving the shiv into his heart, instantly freeing the guard from a slow and painful death. He would take a few deep breaths for a moment, trying to calm down after that quick intense moment.
"Holy shit..." He cursed out, glancing around quickly for anyone else. Seeing that there was no shouting or gunshots, he was safe for now. He borrowed the guard's jacket to wipe the blood off the shiv and slowly placed it into his pocket. He pulled off his worn out boots and started to pull off the jumpsuit. Underneath the suit was a set of worn out fatigues in a pattern of beige, light olive green, black and light brown woodland colors. He rolled the shirt sleeves up for short sleeves before slipping on his combat boots again.
A quick search of the dead guard gave him a holster of a semi-automatic pistol, a belt with pistol magazines in the pouches, several magazines for the SMG, a radio set to the guard's channels and finally cash in the wallet. He collected all of this before rushing off into the woods. As much as he wanted to free the other, he was concerned about the guards punishing the others for the act of wiping out a bunch of guards. He decided the best thing he could do was to keep moving and hope to find a way to escape back to his homeland. If he could make it home and return to his superiors, he'd be able to tell them about the prisons with POWs in hidden sectors and maybe they could break them out.
For now though, he had to find some supplies like food and water. He was parched and feeling the effects of force starvation thanks to the guards trying to cut down their rations to keep more for themselves. And on top of all that, tired from only about five or six hours of sleep per day. So a safe place to rest would be nice. He forced himself to move, wanting to put plenty of distance between him and the body before any search parties found the corpse and start hunting him down. At least with the radio, he would hear any information that was said on their radio channels. For now, his focus was on fleeing and getting far away as possible. He marched out of the area with the acquired SMG in his hands, ready to use it against either human or animal if they attacked him.
So far, he was using the sun and compass he got from trading a pack of cigarettes to a captured fighter pilot from the prison. He wished he had a map but for now, he had to make do. About twenty minutes later after walking through bushes and some foliage, the radio buzzed to life with the voice of the guard who ordered his execution.
"Stenson. Come in. We haven't heard any gunfire at all nor seen you in forty minutes. It doesn't take that long to kill a weakened and starving man. What's the hold up?" The voice on the radio asked to which the POW turned the knob to lower the volume so he can listen to it and the noise around him. He didn't bother answering since it would buy him more time while they searched for their friend. He double timed into a run as to put more distance between him and the search parties. That and he was feeling the constant sleep deprivation kicking in. He tried his best to just run to stay awake, failing to see where he was going. As a result, he never saw the rooting doors on the ground when his boots stepped onto him.
He let out a cry as he fell through the doors, hitting the stairs which gave way after being made off wood. The POW landed onto the hard floor below, feeling winded and pain. He laid there for a moment, slowly groaning in pain. He slowly started to move, holding his back with his hand for a moment as he moved. "Ooohhhh...fuck..."
He felt like a tough object had been below him when he landed and poked his back really hard. He sat up, rubbing his back while searching around for whatever he landed on. His hand came across a small object and closed around it. He moved his right hand in front of him and opened it to reveal a black ring sitting in his palm. The ring had a small paw print on the top in the colors of a dried out green glow stick. He had never seen such a ring like that before in his life. Curiosity got to him as he decide to slip the ring on his left ring finger to see if it fit or not.
The ring easily slipped on and he examined it when a black shape emerged from the ring at fast speed and into the air. The POW, surprised by this, scrambled back against the wall in shock as the black blur started to take shape in front of him. He braced himself for a possible hit, curling up against the wall and covering his ears and head with his arms. He would remain like this until a voice spoke.
"Jeez. Sure picked a dusty place to put the ring on now?" A small voice spoke boldly, causing the POW to lower his arms and look. Floating a few feet away from his face was a small black furred creature with a large head. It had large green cat eyes, a small body with stubby arms and legs, a small tail and finally cat ears on its head. The small creature would look around before settling its eyes on the POW. "Oh. Do you have any camembert?"
The POW was in a state of shock and confusion from this sudden twist. Add in the fact he was tired, he eventually was overcomed by this bombardment and promptly passed out. His eyes slowly closed shut before he slumped over to the ground in sleep.
"Oh come on. Really? I just want some camembert." Plagg groaned upon the fact the new person wearing the Cat Miraculous had just passed out in front of him. While he was glad to finally be free of being stuck alone in the ring after Adrian and Marinette passed away together, he didn't want to stay down in this place forever. "Well...Since I've got nothing else to do, might as well find out who you are."
Plagg first examined what he had on him. He had a ragged looking camouflage uniform on him with a few patches on the front and both sleeves. There were two patches on his shirt, one above each top pocket. The first patch on the left side of the shirt had 'U.S. Marines' on it while the other packet above the right pocket simply read as 'Guerrero'. On the left shoulder is a khaki or tan patch in the shape of shield with a tan colored caltrop on it. Right below that patch was a smaller patch with the letters 'USMC' on it. On the other sleeve was a flag patch, one Plagg recognized as the flag of the United States of America due to Adrian having to study about it for a project. That and seeing it fly above the US Embassy in Paris whenever they were on patrol. Also below this patch was the same USMC letters like on the other sleeve.
Further examination reveal a belt with several boxes and pouches of the same size along with a holster on it with a pistol currently in it. Nearby on the ground was a medium black 'gun' as Adrian would call it which was a bit dirty from the dust. He would see a radio on the belt which crackled to life with new voices. "Shit! All units! We got an escapee! He's killed Stenson and ditched his jumpsuit! Bastard must have had clothing underneath his jumpsuit! I need ten of you with automatic weapons to take those POWs back to the prison and give them extra beatings and no rations for the night! The rest of you! Regroup on me and move out to search for him! If anyone finds that American bastard then kill him!"
"Wait? Escapee? POWs? American?" Plagg thought on a moment, glancing between the radio and Guerrero before realizing they were referring to this guy in front of him. "Uh oh...That's not good. Okay...Maybe I should wake him up..."
Plagg flew over to his face and began to tap him with his small paws. "Hey, kid. You need to wake up. Apparently some guys are chasing you for killing their buddy and as much as I don't like working with bad people, we are gonna have to work together if we both want to live."
There was barely any movement from him but judging by the air flow in his nose, he was sleeping. Plagg flew around the room to find something to wake him up. Seeing nothing useful, he flew back over and put some more strength into his slaps to wake him up. "HEY, HUMAN! WAKE UP!"
The slap was hard enough to turn the man's head to the right with a bruise along with making his eyes snap open. He looked at Plagg in shock while holding his cheek for a moment. Then his eyes went very wide with shock as he spoke. "Holy shit! You are real!"
"Of course I'm real. The name's Plagg but details can wait since you have some guys hunting you down and while I question your morals, I'd rather not have the first person to wake me up get killed right off the bat." The kwami explained to the new ring holder who slowly started to get up, grabbing the gun by its sling. He shifted the sling for the gun to rest on his back as he reached up and slowly pulled himself out of the cellar. Plagg flew up to search around while the young man go to his feet and brushed off the dirt off his pants. "So where are we anyway?"
"Not too far from New Atlanta. Not sure which direction it is but that don't matter." The young man replied, pulling the SMG off his back. He pressed the magazine release, grabbing the long magazine before it hit the dirt to examine it. Seeing it was fully load, he loaded the magazine back in, checking to see if a round was chambered in by opening the chamber and and closing it once it was determined it was loaded. "What matters is getting to the north out of enemy territory alive."
"Okay...Mind if you can explain to me what going on with this place and you? After all, it looks like I might be stuck with you for some time...and with no camembert..." Plagg moaned about this last part as he hovered by the human's head for now. The young man looked at the kwami for a moment before replying.
"I guess we can talk for now but we have to keep moving." Guerrero replied as he pulled out his compass and examined it. Once he found out which direction was north, he would pocket the small navigation device and began walking in the direction of the north. "Honestly though, I'm still questioning if I am dreaming or just already dead."
"I can slap your face again if you're still in doubt." Plagg replied with a mischievous smile which earned a quick flinch from Guerrero. Now that they were in some of the light offered by the sunlight breaking through the trees above, the kwami noticed the bruises on the young man's face along with a few cuts and scratches. Along his arms were more bruises and scratches along with scars from cuts or something grazing his arms. Plagg slowly hover to the top of his head and simply sat on his head for now. "On second thought, maybe sitting on your head is proof enough."
"Yeah...That will work." Guerrero replied back, slowly trudging through the forests to place more distance between him and the search parties. Hopefully he could find a decent place to hide along the way that was hidden from the air in case of enemy helicopters. "I guess since you told me your name...plaque?"
"No. Plagg. It's spelled P-L-A-G-G. Plagg." The kwami corrected him from his seat on his black haired head which he nodded slightly.
"Sorry. Plagg. Okay. So, Plagg, my name is Joaquin Guerrero. Okay. So what are you anyway?" The young man replied, giving Plagg his full name. The kwami thought about what to tell him before simply going for the simple answer.
"I'm a Kwami. In simplistic terms, we are like spirit animals or such that live in jewelry called Miraculous. Pretty much whoever wears one of these miraculouses is granted certain powers to become superheroes." Plagg gave his short lecture, which allowed Joaquin to process this for a moment.
"So in a way, this ring grants its user superpowers like...the Green Lantern?" He tried recalling the name of the superhero he read about once in an old comic, which made Plagg think about it for a moment.
"Eh...Not exactly but yeah. Maybe something like that. So what about you? What are you anyway?" Plagg questioned him in return since he answered Joaquin's question. Joaquin glanced around as he moved with the SMG in his heads, making sure no traps or even hostile guards were around.
"I'm a Lance Corporal in the United States Marine Corps. I got captured after our unit was ambushed and surrounded during a battle a few months ago. Pretty much first battle I fought in and we got captured right off the bat." He started to explain, slowly tightening his grip on his weapon. Plagg glanced down to see Joaquin gritting his teeth before continuing, anger in his voice. "The bastards threw us into hidden prison camps and forced us to work while constantly beating us and starving us. Sometimes they would even torture us for fun or information while they would test weapons and experimental procedures on others. Worst part is no one besides the guards know about this. Fucking bastards..."
"Whoa. Easy, kid. Don't get angry right now." Plagg warned, worried if someone could make akumas out of him since he couldn't find any of the other Kwamis in that cellar. However at least the Cat Miraculous was far away from the Ladybug Miraculous so they wouldn't be used for power or a wish. Joaquin's breath was a bit heavy and shaking as he walked, the memories of what happened at the camps making him feel anger and fear course through his body. He shook his head for a moment, throwing off Plagg who hovered in the air in front of him. "Hey! Easy alright."
"Sorry...It's...it's hard to talk about it..." He shakily replied, trying to calm down as he moved. His legs seemed to be shaking like crazy as he walked until he fell to his knees and vomited on the grass. He coughed once it all came out, slowly wiping his mouth with his arm. He got onto his left foot and slowly stood back up shaking. "Let's...lets just keep moving..."
Joaquin started to walk again, shifting his left hand to hold his right side where he was punched earlier. They still stung from the punch, most likely because the guards had some iron knuckles underneath their gloves to make their hits worse. He shifted his thoughts away from the pain as Plagg decided to rest back on his head again. After all, they had a long walk ahead of them and search parties on their tail possibly.
That's the first chapter which was longer than the prologue. If you are a bit confused about anything, ask because I will work on more world building and backgrounds as the story progresses. Overall, the new world Plagg finds himself in seems odd and decides to go along the ride with the new holder of the Cat Miraculous. Leave a review or ideas in the review section or DM me. I have to start thinking of what to do next but eventually there will be a meeting between the new Ladybug and the new Chat Noir.
