Hi all! Welcome to another chapter. Thank you so much to all those who gave feedback. I've decided to make my chapters longer now. Now they'll average 3000, 4000 words. Again, thank you for all the reviews! They make my day :)

I've gotten comments asking about origins of the power, Mr. Mask's involvement, and what Plagg frickin told Marinette! All I can say is, wait and see ;)

Luka came in to the office early that next morning, as per usual, and was faced with another scene of disarray. A sinking feeling filled his stomach long before Theo, catching Luka in the doorway, breathed out, "Kidnapping." Luka's fists tightened.

I was patrolling that area last night, he thought with increasing incredulity at himself. How could I miss another criminal—? However, before he could berate himself any longer, Theo managed to choke out, "But there was a witness and the attacker ran away and now the victim is in the hospital."

Luka looked at Theo, astounded. "The victim is alright?"

"Injured, yes, but in the hospital—"

"Why didn't you say that sooner?" Luka made for the door to go to the hospital and see if he could get any information on the victim, but then he turned Theo's words over once more in his mind. He stopped again.

"Wait—there's a witness?"

Before Theo could respond, a knock sounded at the door. Feeling a bit fed up, Luka swung open the door only to be met with the sight of an unfamiliar man. He was a little hunched over and nervously wringing his hands. His eyes darted around everywhere, and when he saw Luka's face he shrunk back, looking intimidated. Luka quickly schooled his features into something less irritated, realizing who this was.

"You must be the witness," he said as gently as possible. Luckily, his voice seemed to calm the man down a bit. It seemed he still had a bit of musician left in him if he could do something like that. Shaking the memories off, Luka continued, "Follow me. We'll take you to the questioning room where everything you say is recorded, so that nothing is lost." The witness nodded silently and followed Luka into the back, through a door and down a short hall before they stopped in front of another door labelled 'Interrogation'. "Wait here," Luka ordered. "I'll get the Chief to listen as well."

After fetching Roger, Luka got to questioning the man inside the room where cameras were rolling. After asking for basic information (like his name and where he lived), Luka got right to business. "Can you tell me what exactly you saw that night?"

The man shuddered, but opened his mouth and began to retell the tale in a quiet, raspy voice.

It had been very dark that night. Specifically around the parts of the 21st arrondissement that were nestled quite far in and hadn't been redeveloped recently, the lamplights were far and few in-between. The little lighting there was more of a dingy yellow stain on the streets at night than anything else.

A figure dressed in black pressed up against a rooftop as a man with hair stained blue walked by, looking around with a keen eye. Most likely a member of the police—a detective patrolling after the recent murder, perhaps. But a simple patrol like that would hardly be enough to catch this person.

They waited until the detective walked by, and watched as he got into his car at last and drove away. Then they slipped down the fire escape. They'd already staked out their target from the top; now all that remained was getting to the destination. Their feet travelled on well-worn paths, not even needing the light as they navigated effortlessly. Soon enough the woman's back came into view. As the figure sped up, the woman seemed to notice and tried to run away like a frightened bunny. Like prey.

The person easily closed in and knocked the woman to the ground just as she screamed ear-splittingly. Not wanting to risk anything more, they hit right where they knew a nerve spot would be: the soft flesh on the neck. But apparently, simply knowing the spot wasn't enough, as the woman kept screaming and lashed out instead of passing out. The figure quickly sidestepped her flailing limbs as if they held blades and began kicking at her to try and knock her out.

A scraping noise caught the culprit's attention. They looked up to see a lanky man staring open-mouthed at the scene, gravel skittering down from where he'd unconsciously kicked it. Cursing under their breath, the attacker pulled the hood further over their head and made off into the night. The victim lay there bleeding, and the man staring, until he seemed to come to his senses and called the police.

...

"So you saw this person attacking the woman," Luka clarified. "Did they have any weapon on them?"

The witness shook his head. "No. He was trying to beat her with his bare fists." The man fell silent, but seemed like he had something more he wanted to say.

"Go on," Luka urged. "Anything you say will be a help."

"…He seemed afraid," the witness whispered. Roger and Luka exchanged confused glances. The man elaborated, "When the woman began fighting back, he flinched back to avoid her hands and feet." Luka's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process this information. Why in the world would the culprit have a behavior like that?

Silence stretched on in the little room. It became evident that the witness had nothing more to say. Roger was the first to get up. "Well, if that's all." Roger helped the man up from his seat and gratefully shook his hand. "Thank you very much for your help, sir. This will be very helpful in our investigation."

The lanky man nodded. "Right. I just hope you can catch that monster." He looked down, grief clearly reflecting in his eyes. "I have a daughter too, and I can't imagine what the other parents must be going through right now. The parents of both victims."

Roger offered a sad sort of smile. "I know the feeling, Mr. Harpele."

While Roger saw him off, Luka stayed in the dark of the interrogation room, trying to make sense of what they'd been told. Specifically the last bit was haunting him. He seemed afraid. No matter how Luka looked at it, there was no reason—at least that he could think of—as to why the culprit would fear his own victim. Could it be that they were new to crime and were unnerved? Even that seemed highly unlikely. After all, they were gutsy enough to attempt a kidnapping.

Later, the autopsy results for the murder victim came in. Their team of five huddled around a table as they examined the pictures splayed out across the tabletop. Luka, Jalil, Theo, Ali and Roger all stared down at the pictures, accustomed to the sight of blood but no less disgusted.

Pictures of Claire's neck, hands, back and abdomen were spread out; all displayed horrid injuries, ranging in colors from bluish-purple to the unmistakable wine red of blood.

"Her nails are all ripped up," Jalil muttered as he pointed at the picture of her hands. "There's also some cuts here on her palms. She was fighting back."

"The murderer must have pushed her down onto the ground first," Ali added. "Look at her back—there's imprints of gravel and rocks as if they dug into her back."

Roger nodded. "Right. And most important of all—the murderer wasn't skilled with a knife." He pushed the picture of her abdomen to the center of the table so everyone could see. "Look—the cut opens up in all directions. The knife must have moved while it was in her body, which means that the murderer was most likely holding it blade up. And everyone knows that holding a knife blade down is the most effective way to injure."

That was their chief; truly amazing at his job. But Luka couldn't help but frown when Roger continued with, "We need to focus on catching both the murderer and the kidnapper. We can't slack off."

"Hold on," Luka interrupted, drawing all attention to him. "How do you know they're two different people?"

"What?"

"The murderer and the kidnapper," Luka specified. "I think they're the same person."

A crease formed between Roger's brows. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Like you said, the murderer wasn't skilled with a knife. And on her neck, there are bruises." They all looked to the last, neglected picture. The spotted blue-black imprints on her neck vaguely resembled fingers. "I think he was trying to make her pass out, and when he failed, tried to threaten her with a knife. He accidentally stabbed her in doing so."

"That…" Roger stammered. Luka bulldozed on.

"Besides, the two crimes happened within such a tight time range—and in the same area. Do you really think this could just be a coincidence? It had to have been the same person."

Roger stared at the pictures in deep thought for quite some time. Nobody dared to make a peep of noise. Finally, after what felt like hours, he grunted.

"We should recheck this with the kidnapping victim's wounds. Luka, go to the hospital," Roger ordered. "Check her wounds to see if they're similar to Claire's. If you're correct, there should be marks around her neck." He nodded to the rest of the team. "We'll take turns standing guard in the hospital once Luka is done."

There was a chorus of general agreement. Luka gathered the pictures from the table before heading out, itching to confirm what he just knew had to be true.

...

No matter what, Marinette just couldn't shake off the memory of the scream. It echoed in her ears, making her look around even though she knew it was just her brain playing tricks on her. It definitely didn't help that on the news, she'd seen that the kidnap-attempter had gotten away (although she was very glad that the victim was now in the hospital).

And the initial suspicion she'd had, which she had also forgotten, came back to circle around in her head: that the murderer had something to do with Adrien's threats. And now she had a feeling that the murderer had something to do with the kidnapper…?

But it made no sense!

"My hunches are awful," Marinette grumbled. She vigorously rubbed her already disheveled hair and then her eyes. She'd been so distraught about the kidnapping that she'd hardly slept for two or three hours and woke up super early, before the sun had even risen. Alya was still passed out on the chaise, despite also hearing the scream last night and watching the instant news coverage with Marinette an hour later. Then again, Alya didn't know about the threats Adrien got, so she couldn't possibly have the same foreboding feeling that Marinette got when she thought about it.

She'd tried drawing up a flow chart of sorts, too. There were currently three large labels on her whiteboard reading: STALKER, KIDNAPPER and MURDERER. She was trying to write possible connections between them, but it was proving to be difficult when she had next to zero information on all three things.

She first had to solve the problem of Adrien's stalker. After all, that was her job. But she just couldn't shake the feeling that she had to visit the hospital and see the victim. Maybe looking at the body would help her fill in the KIDNAPPER portion of her flow chart… although Marinette suspected that she'd most likely feel sick to the stomach.

The feeling in her body pulled strong, though, so she didn't have much choice.

Marinette peeked out the window. The sun had barely begun to rise. She could make it to the hospital and spend some time there before she had to be at work.

Marinette scribbled a note on a post-it for Alya ('left for work early, don't worry') and stuck it on the snoozing girl's forehead before getting ready. She collected her things, hastily erased the whiteboard as a last-minute decision, and made her way downstairs where her early-rising baker parents were awake and getting ready for the day.

"Marinette?" Sabine said, bewildered. She paused in the middle of wiping down the front counter. "You're up early today."

"Oh—right. I…" Marinette stammered, unable to make up an excuse. She'd completely forgotten about her parents in her hurry.

Tom came out from the kitchen where he'd been listening from. "Just be careful," he told Marinette. A hearty smile found its way on his face. "You're awfully excited for your job. Even though yesterday was so tiring for you."

Marinette stared for a second, but quickly improvised. "Y-yeah." Marinette laughed with some semblance of relief as she latched on to the excuse provided. "I just really want to do a good job."

"It becomes like that when you love what you do." Tom pointedly ignored the look Sabine was sending him. "Go now, and don't forget to eat."

"Right." Marinette grabbed a croissant and leaned over the counter to kiss her parents on the cheek. "I'll see you tonight!" She ran out the door. Sabine waited three seconds before rounding on Tom.

"There's something else going on," she berated. "Why would you…" She trailed off. Her expression softened when she saw Tom staring in the direction that Marinette had left with a crumpled looking expression on his face.

"Let's just trust her," he suggested despite sounding so regretful himself. "Our Marinette is an adult. She may still live with us but… she's on her own now."

Sabine sighed, placing a hand on Tom's arm and following his gaze. "You're right. Time really does fly, doesn't it?"

Marinette rushed into the hospital and headed straight for the inquiry desk without thinking much about anything else. Thankfully, the lobby was still fairly empty since it was so early in the morning, but Marinette still managed to roughly bump shoulders with a doctor in passing. She whirled around with an apology.

"I'm so sorry!" She gasped, slightly out of breath from running all the way from the bus stop to the hospital. The doctor stayed silent, but nodded back to her. Behind a surgical face mask and thick black frames, nothing was visible but his eyes and coarse black hair. Faintly in the back of her mind, Marinette registered how long and thick the lashes framing the doctor's eyes were—especially for a man. Always picking up on useless details, Marinette scolded herself as she turned away. Focus. She made it to the desk where the receptionist waited.

"Excuse me, could you please tell me which room Danielle Aude is in?" The woman at the desk raised a brow.

"Are you related to her?" Marinette stilled. She had forgotten all about visiting policies at hospitals—she didn't even know the victim. And her excuse about having a gut instinct likely wouldn't fly, either.

Just as she opened her mouth to try and spout some nonsense, someone called her name. "Marinette?" She whirled around and saw Luka standing at the entrance. He walked up next to her and showed his license and badge to the lady at the receptionist.

"I'm Detective Couffaine. I'm here to watch guard over Danielle Aude," he explained. The receptionist gestured to Marinette.

"Is she with you?" Marinette and Luka exchanged a brief glance. She wasn't sure what he saw when he looked at her, but whatever it was, it made him nod at the receptionist.

"Yes, she is."

"Alright, Danielle Aude's room is room 203."

Marinette was ready to shoot off like a bullet the second she heard the room number, but she was stopped in her tracks by Luka who quickly stepped in her way. She bumped her head roughly into his chest. "Ow!"

Luka grabbed her hand and led her away from the desk. "What are you doing here?" Marinette, who'd been rubbing her forehead, paused.

"Huh?"

"Don't you have work?" Luka asked. "Why are you here? And why were you asking about Danielle Aude's room?"

Marinette paled. This was not good. How was she supposed to explain to Luka that she had a gut feeling about the kidnapper being related to the murderer and stalker? In fact, Luka didn't even know that she had to catch a stalker. He didn't even know about her super strength! If she didn't come up with a lie quick, all of her hard work to keep him thinking that she was a normal girl would come crashing down.

"Err… work… I—" An idea suddenly presented itself to Marinette and she rolled with it. "Since UMS 3 is being released today it's really hectic at work, so Adri—I mean, my boss asked me to pick up some files from here...for his own appointment that he had a while ago." She wanted to slap herself once she finished. Who had checkups at a hospital?

Luka raised an eyebrow. "What's that got to do with Danielle Aude?"

Marinette winced. "Well… she doesn't really have to do with work. I just…" Marinette deflated. Luka's expression softened and placed his hands on her shoulders, bringing her full attention to his face.

"I know you're worried," he said gently. "But I'm taking care of things. The police are handling everything." Marinette nodded along to his words in a trance-like state. She was busier listening to his voice, which sounded like honey, than anything else. Luka could still sing if he wanted to... "So don't worry too much, alright?"

Marinette snapped out of her trance. "U-um, yeah. But I came here really early, so I—" She steeled herself then blurted out loudly, "I could keep you company!" Her face reddened in mortification at the sheer volume with which she'd said that. The woman at the reception desk was shooting her a suspicious look now. "If you want," Marinette finished with an embarrassed whisper.

Luka regarded her for a long while, his eyes moving side to side as he gazed at her face. She was positive that she could die on the spot right then and there. Finally, though, he eased up on the intensity. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a little appreciative half-smile.

"Alright," he conceded. "But it's not going to be fun standing guard for a hospital room."

"T-that's fine," Marinette laughed, breathless. She was still in disbelief that she'd even managed to do that—and that he'd actually accepted, above all. He'd been so busy lately that even this felt special, though the circumstances were dire.

Right. The circumstances. As Luka turned away Marinette slapped her own cheeks to bring her back into reality. You're here on a mission, Marinette! Don't act like a lovesick schoolgirl now.

As they made their way to Danielle's room, Luka nudged Marinette's arm. "I need to go to the bathroom really quick. Don't let anyone into the room, unless it's a doctor or nurse." Luka took his detective's badge and placed it in Marinette's hand. "If anyone asks who you are, just flash them this and tell them you're standing guard. It should be enough." Marinette nodded along, a bit too focused on the feeling of his hand holding hers.

All too soon, he let go and left for the bathroom. Marinette was almost inclined to sink down on the bench opposite Danielle's door with a sigh, possibly have an internal squealing-session over how well this morning had gone—but a glance through the little window in Danielle's door made Marinette forget all about what just happened. She slowly crept forward until her nose was pressed against the glass. Through the crosshatch of the screen, she saw Danielle laying on the bed.

Danielle couldn't have been any older than Marinette. In fact, she might have even been two or three years younger. She was slim and her auburn colored hair lay in a ratty, tangled mess around her shoulders, a far cry from the silky tresses shown on hospital patients in movies. But her hair was the least of it. Her nose and mouth were concealed with an oxygen mask and gauzy patches were positioned on her forehead, cheeks and part of her jaw. The patches didn't stop blood from seeping through, leaving red blotched around her face. Dark rings underlined her closed eyes, standing out even more against her sickly pale skin. If Marinette squinted she could see mottled bruises the color of raisins on Danielle's neck. And this was just her neck-up—Marinette had no idea what lay underneath the hospital gown.

Marinette was right before—she felt sick at the sight. But for some reason, she just couldn't look away. The person who did this might be related to whoever is after Adrien, Marinette thought. She tried imagining Adrien in a similar condition, but found that she felt nauseous before her mind's eye had even finished constructing the scene.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Marinette jump away from the door with a startled yelp. She overcame her initial shock and saw the same doctor from before standing at Danielle's door. With Marinette out of the way, he entered wordlessly.

Marinette stepped back and sank down on the bench at last. She scrubbed at her face. The three hours of sleep were already catching up to her—she was used to heavily sleeping, so it was no wonder. Marinette's thoughts were all scrambled and now she was paying attention to the most worthless things.

The doctor left the room a mere minute later. Probably checking up on Danielle's heart rate or… whatever it was that doctors did. Marinette listened to the click of the door and leaned her head back against the wall. She thought about the body that lay feet from her on the other side of a wall. Who could possibly do such a thing, and then live with themselves enough to run away from it?

She'd been sitting for a few minutes when thumping noises caught her attention. A look of confusion crossed Marinette's face before she realized it was coming from Danielle's room. Her face changed into one of abject horror. She quickly launched to her feet and peeked through the glass again. What she saw made her heart stop for a moment, then speed up in a mixture of panic and fear.

Danielle's body was convulsing on the hospital bed—violently so, even as the girl remained unconscious. The beeping on the heart monitor sped up and the line on the screen spiked. And was her mouth frothing under the oxygen mask? Marinette began panicking and tried to call out. "Um—she—the patient room—room 203—" Shit! Is now the time to twist your stupid tongue? To Marinette's relief, though, the same doctor who'd just been inside was there in a heartbeat, with a gurney no less. In fact, he was ready for Danielle far quicker than Marinette thought normal, as if he was prepared for the moment she'd convulse like that—but then again, Marinette didn't know how hospitals worked. She was just glad that someone was here.

Marinette opened the door for the doctor, who rolled the gurney inside the room. He transferred the patient's body and covered it with a sheet. Marinette watched all of this from her place by the door where she hovered, frightened and worried. As he exited the room with the patient, the doctor calmly instructed Marinette, "Tell the detective that Mme. Aude is being taken for surgery." The words made something in Marinette's mind protest—something was odd—but in the heat of the moment with her heart pounding for no good reason, Marinette disregarded the little voice protesting in her head. "Alright," she conceded, watching the doctor wheel her away. Right as they disappeared from sight, Luka arrived from the same direction the doctor had left in. He saw Marinette standing near the open door and rushed over.

"What happened?"

Marinette gnawed at her lip. "Something started happening with her, so the doctor took her away for surgery."

Just then, another doctor rounded the corner into their hall. He, too, had thick black frames and a face mask, but was taller than the other doctor, with—and Marinette despised that she noticed it again—shorter lashes. He stuck his head inside the empty room.

"Where is Mme. Aude?"

Luka warily faced the doctor. "Who are you?"

"I'm her doctor," the new man explained. With those three words Marinette felt her knees buckle. She placed a hand on the wall to support herself, hating the ringing that was suddenly sounding in her ears, or the fact that she was suddenly cold.

No. No.

"Y-you're not the same man as before," she choked out. Luka stared between them for a total of two seconds, completely wide-eyed, before cursing and positively exploding off in the direction he'd just come from.