I'm not ready, Marinette remarks woefully, glancing at her bedside clock. 4:57. She takes inventory of herself in her mirror. Physically, she's prepared, donning a white sundress. She figures it had enough lace to qualify as "cute" and fulfill Alya's instruction. She gave it a little twirl, smiling at her reflection despite herself. Her shoes are strappy flats, chosen with care to ensure if they needed to make a break for it, they won't hinder her movement. The sobering thought grounds her. For all Alya talked about fun and sisterhood for this outing, it really isn't about that. They were venturing into unknown territory. That was why she could never be fully ready. Too many uncertainties. Even Alya had become something of an unknown to her. Since when was her friend so eager to rush into risky matters like this? Maybe since she lost her best friend, Marinette thinks grimly. She locks eyes with her reflection. No, she shakes her head defiantly. She hasn't lost me. I'm right here. And will keep being here for her. She turns from the image of herself and navigates her room, collecting a few useful items and stuffing them into her purse. Pepper spray. Could come in handy. Snacks, should I bring snacks?

Her phone buzzes. Alya. "I'm on my way," she texts, "be down in a sec." She rushes down the steps, stopping briefly to hug her dad and Grandma Gina goodbye. That her Nonna happened to be here assisting her family on this day, granting her enough freedom from responsibility to hang out with Alya, was incredibly lucky. Or unlucky. She wasn't sure yet.

Alya reclines against her vehicle, feeling as comfortable in her tight orange tube dress as she does in her own skin. She drums her fingers on the hood. Her impatience nearly gets the best of her as she resolves to march into the bakery and grab her overdue friend. I'm not sure why I expected that girl to be anything but late, she thinks, exasperated but affectionate. She instinctively moves to push up her nonexistent sleeves but is halted by Mari's appearance in the sidewalk. "Hey!" Alya greets warmly, "Hustle your bustle, sister, we've got a story to catch."

They settle into the tan cloth seats of Alya's old sedan. While the redhead rummages her purse for the keys, Marinette determines a heart-to-heart is in order. "Alya…you know I love you. I've missed you to death these past few months. But now we're here, together…do we have to do this?" she pleads, her bluebell eyes searching Alya's steely hazel ones for an ounce of the hesitation that she'd been grappling with all day. "You're an amazing journalist—you don't need to take risks like this to get ahead. Your talent speaks for itself." She hesitated when a glint of something flash in Alya's eyes. Was that…resentment? It passed too briefly to be accounted for.

"I appreciate the kind words," Alya spoke in a nearly imperceptibly patronizing voice, "But as an aspiring designer, you of all people should know how competitive it gets out there. Unless…have you given up on that?"

"I—no, I haven't," Marinette stumbles out, blinking at her friend's unexpected hostility. But it isn't unexpected, is it? I've neglected our relationship. I've hurt her, she realizes. "You've got a point, though. I've been neglecting my goals. I've been neglecting a lot, lately…" she began contritely, "There's no excuse for pushing something so important to the side like that. I regret it." She searched Alya's face for any recognition or acceptance of her pseudo-apology, but the other girl remains impassive as she watches the road, hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.

"If that's how you feel then I'm sure you can understand why I won't back down. This is important to me. This is important, period! They're hiding something. We deserve to know the truth, Marinette," she finally meets her friend's eyes. Does she also mean…my truth? The bluenette ponders worriedly, breaking their eye contact to look at her hands.

The vehicle gradually comes to a stop and the driver exits swiftly. The car door slams behind her. That was tense, Alya notes to herself. I should give her some space to cool off. She forcibly directs her focus towards her surroundings. This parking lot has seen a lot of use. The paint looks new, but the asphalt has seen better days. There's more than enough room for hundreds of cars. Must be a popular place, she remarks. She investigates the building before her, seeing it in the daylight for the first time. La Plume du Paon lost some of its mystery under the scrutiny of sunlight. Its gray brick exterior looks washed out against its identifying neon sign. Other than a few emergency exits, Alya doesn't see anything else worth noticing.

Deciding it's time, she opens the passenger door and pauses for Marinette to step out before pulling her into a hug. "Before we go in there, I want you to know something," the redhead pauses, pulling away to look Mari in the eyes. "Look—you're my best friend. I'm sorry I got caught up back there, no matter what happens I've got your back. And I know you'll have mine, too." Marinette nods and smiles tenderly, sniffling slightly. "Good. Now let's go in!"

They push open the hefty metal doors, only to be greeted by silence and an empty dancefloor. The lighting resembles that of an warehouse more than a club. Shit, Marinette realizes, this is a nightclub and it's still daytime. Of course, it's not open. But the doors were unlocked…she turns to Alya, "We should leave, come back later. We're obviously not supposed to be here right now."

Her concerned glance is met with a knowing look and an eager smile. "This is perfect," Alya whispers, venturing further in, dragging Mari in tow by the arm, "Blending in is overrated. This way we'll definitely catch their attention."

"Catch the attention of the police, more like! This is trespassing!"

"Is it? Just follow my lead, girl, we'll be fine," They crossed the dancefloor towards a section of booths towards the bar. A closer look reveals a stern looking woman, typing away on her laptop, occupying one of the colorful compartments. At their approach she looks up from her work and stands up. The woman's raven and red hair is held up in a tight bun, her grey suit immaculate. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and receives them with a suspicious glare.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" she demands while glancing around impatiently as if expecting someone.

Just leaving! Marinette opens her mouth to say, before Alya interjects confidently, "We know everything. Who you are. What this place is," she pauses to let her words sink in, "We're here to become a part of it."

The woman blinks in surprise. She hesitates, as if mulling it over, then eyes them appraisingly. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"And your friend here?" The woman retorts, gesturing to Marinette.

"I-I'm eighteen, ma'am," Marinette replies nervously. The woman appears to relax her posture marginally.

"No need to call me ma'am. My name is Nathalie Sancoeur. You may address me as such." The three turn towards the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Nathalie's face shows visible relief as she recognizes the form of an extremely tall, bulky man with graying hair and sideburns.

"This is my associate, Gorilla. He normally would have been the one to greet you upon entering this establishment," Her diplomatic voice becomes scolding as she confronts him. "Why were you away from your post?"

He shrugs. "Bathroom," he states gruffly. "Want me to take care of these two?" He nods towards the girls. Marinette gulps.

"That will not be necessary. They'll be accompanying me this evening. Return to your post before I report you for negligence," Nathalie warns, then watches him leave to stand guard by the entrance. She sighs and turns to address the duo. "You heard me, girls. You're coming with me."

A/N: This chapter's a bit shorter but it seemed like a good stopping point. Mini cliff hanger :) Hope you enjoyed. My updates might be a bit sporadic but I'm going to try to make them at least once a week. Thanks!