Chapter 8
The air was colder a floor below than it was upstairs in the precinct main area, maybe Chat Noir was imagining it, but he blamed the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end on the cold.
The iron grip on his bound wrists didn't make the situation any better, his footsteps were heavy and his hands itched to be free and put his gloves back on again.
It's been a week since his gloves had been taken from him and he felt naked without the tough leather between his hands and the outside world. The tough cloth his hands were bound in did nothing to soothe the feeling.
Couffaine gave a rough push to his back and Chat Noir stopped and turned his head, glaring at the former marine from the corner of his eye.
The colonel sent an equally scathing glare back at the criminal, the air between them thick with tension since the incident two days ago.
He'd been unceremoniously lead out of the infirmary by none other than the pissed off colonel, after getting treated for his injuries by a doctor and resting for a full day in bed. He knew Couffaine would've shoved him into the cell without his injuries getting treated, but of all the things he could call him, unnecessarily cruel wasn't one. Despite their shared animosity for each-other, he could trust Couffaine not abusing his power, even if he had tempted him to two days prior with his scuffle with the lieutenant.
He hadn't seen her for two days, even when he was led out of the infirmary through the office area, gaining either scared or angry glares from the police officers around him, Chat Noir hadn't seen her anywhere.
She must've been at home.
Recuperating.
His shoulders slumped.
Couffaine pushed at his back and Chat Noir couldn't suppress the growl bubbling in his throat this time, "Back off, Couffaine."
Luka's iron grip around his wrists tightened even further and he whispered threateningly into Chat Noir's ear, "Have you backed off of Marinette?" Both men's faces were set in deep scowls, eyes locked, Chat Noir's body stiff with tension, "Don't expect any gentle treatment, especially from me after the shit you pulled, Noir." The criminal snarled in anger when Couffaine roughly pushed against his shackled wrists, the pressure on them would've likely dislocated any other man's wrists.
Good thing Chat Noir was durable.
His mind moved back to the fight he'd had with the lady cop and he remembered the tears and the sob she'd let out in the infirmary.
It was the first time he'd seen her show such emotion, she hadn't looked like the tough cop out for his hide, but a hurt woman.
She'd looked human.
Chat Noir began walking forward again down the narrow corridor, the colder atmosphere and tense air with the bastard breathing down his neck had him on edge, especially for what he knew was to follow.
The cell.
He could already pick up on distant murmurings, echoing through the corridor bathed in colors of cement grey, they got louder the closer they moved.
Until they finally took a turn and Couffaine unlocked a door.
There was a single, medium-sized cell housing eight men inside, most of which were sitting on the ground.
They all looked up when the second door, the door to the cell, was unlocked.
They instantly froze in what Chat Noir recognized to be silent fear.
They'd recognized him, it would be an insult if they hadn't, even petty thieves knew of Chat Noir, while not many knew what he looked like, most could guess it was him upon seeing him. He didn't have his suit on nor equipment, but the toxic green eyes and the black mask was enough.
The jackass marine behind him pushed him inside, releasing the tough cloth wrapped around his hands but leaving the handcuffs shackled above them, "Here's your new inmate." With that, he locked the cell door again and left, the slamming of the outside door echoing in the small cell. Chat Noir's fingers wiggled and moved around, finally tasting fresh air after weeks of being confined to tightly wrapped cloth, it weren't his gloves, but it was better than nothing.
Seconds ticked by where everyone remained still, Chat Noir scanning the room and mustering each pathetic scoundrel inside.
As soon as Chat Noir took one step, he was given a wide berth from the rest of the inmates, those who were laying in their beds not moving a muscle and the ones on the floor left him a sizeable space for him to sit with a good distance between him and the rest.
The chains rattled with his movements and Chat Noir sat down on the floor, ignoring the other inmates and fixing his gaze on a spot in front of him.
His eyes caught the moving shadows of the steel bars and he tensed.
Alya stirred the two cups of coffee to dissolve the sugar before carrying them over to the couch, setting them both on the small table and sitting beside Marinette, who rubbed her head, "Want some painkillers?" her voice was soft as she gently rubbed her friend's back, trying to silently offer support.
Marinette hummed, refraining from shaking her head to not worsen the pain, "He always goes for my head or throat." She sighed and grabbed her mug, taking a sip of the warm sweetened concoction.
The reporter snorted, grabbing her own mug, "Just like a lion…or a rat." Marinette sent her an admonishing glance, "What? It's true. He deserves to rot away in some corner for what he did to you – a second time – might I add."
The policewoman sighed, staring down at her lap, "I don't really blame him, he's actually been…kind of alright here, there have been incidents here and there, but he was mostly okay compared to the impatient, aggressive criminals I dealt with before. I would almost call him civil if not for the concussion he nearly gave me." She took another sip, hearing Alya huff.
"Tch, alright? Marinette, he almost killed you! Twice! It's Chat Noir we're talking about, not some random every day criminal off the streets! This was his first time ever getting caught by the police, he's dangerous! He screams bad news!" she gesticulated wildly with her arms, almost spilling coffee, before she quickly caught the drops of liquid sliding down the cup with her fingers.
The dark-haired woman groaned, rubbing her bandaged head, "I know, I know, I know Alya. I'm just saying, if I were in his situation I'd feel trapped too and do anything to get out of here. He may not have the same moral code like we do, but he's still human, maybe he used to be a good guy before entering the criminal scene."
Alya fixed her with a look, snorting again, "Yeah, right and I'm a bank robber." She set her cup down, grabbing her friend's hands, "Marinette, I know you're still shaken up about everything that happened, but you can't go defending him like that. Have you seen Luka? I've never seen him so angry! That man was bursting at the seams of anger! Why did you go in-between them?! You know Chat Noir deserved a punch or two for doing this to you!"
Marinette stared at their joined hands, squeezing the reporter's in return before looking fiercely into her eyes, "That's the problem Alya, he didn't deserve any of that. Yes, he hurt me, but he…didn't try to kill me. I already have a few years of experience under my belt, a criminal with a record, especially like Chat Noir's, would fight me tooth and nail to kill me and succeed. If he'd fought whole groups, you don't think he can beat me? He was restrained, but not even that would've stopped him from at least injuring me enough to go to the ER. He just wanted to incapacitate me to escape. Even when he held me down, he didn't try to choke me, which would've done the job quickly. He also stopped as soon as he thought I fell unconscious, any other criminal would've continued until he felt no heartbeat."
Alya grit her teeth, "Marinette, what are you saying? You've been hit in the head, maybe you're a bit confused. You can't tell me my police best friend Marinette is defending a criminal!"
The cop squeezed her eyes shut briefly at the pain shooting through her head, but Marinette soldiered on, "Two officers from our department harmed him during his recuperation in the infirmary, tell me Alya, which side would you choose? The officers who may have done something wrong but still represent 'justice' or the criminal that's been wronged?"
The auburn haired female shook her head, taking a long sip of her coffee, "Look , Mari, I know what you're trying to say but this is different!"
Marinette's voice rose, her patience running thin, "Why?!"
"Because you're my friend!" Marinette fell silent at her outburst, watching tears gather at the corner's of Alya's eyes as she lifted her glasses and wiped at them stubbornly, "What would've happened had he seriously injured you? If you were stuck on that white bed? You don't think I'd have sleepless weeks until I get the news you're discharged? You don't think me or Nino or Luka and the others will worry sick because a criminal hurt you?! Try to see it from my side girl! Of course I'm going to defend my friend sooner than some criminal that's been wronged maybe twice in his whole no-good life!"
Marinette gathered the distressed woman in her arms, both friends clutching at each-other desperately like lifelines, bluebell eyes glazing over with fresh tears as she shook, holding onto Alya for comfort.
Kim and Ivan worriedly watched their superior's nervous pacing within the four walls of his office, blinds pulled all the way down and door locked.
Luka's strides were quick and short, chest heaving with quicker breaths as the colonel continued his mad pacing, usually calm aqua blue eyes now intense with rage.
They'd known him for a while and none of them have ever seen Luka in this state, so angry and impatient and short-tempered.
He looked the epitome of pissed off, rough-around-the-edges marine they'd only heard rumors about.
Ivan, Kim made a mental cheering dance for his sacrifice, finally voiced the question that's been hanging between them since they were called in to Luka's office, "Um, Colonel, why did you call for us?"
They were aware of the situation, the ruckus it caused couldn't have been missed, everyone was aware and Kim had just recently nearly socked another fellow officer who tried spreading rumors of some deranged 'love triangle' gone exposed.
He was a fun-loving guy, but sometimes he hated humans.
Luka finally stopped his pacing, his hand resting on the back of his chair, nails digging into the worn leather, eyes livid with unadulterated fury, "Why weren't you at your assigned positions in front of Marinette's house?" his voice was calm, but the underlying anger couldn't be ignored.
They were lucky if they escaped this room with all limbs attached.
Having staring contests with Chat Noir himself were more preferable than this.
Kim cleared his throat, trying not to cower at the intense glare he received, "Uh, we…w-well, Marinette sent us home. She said we should get rest for watching Chat Noir all night and told us she'd call if there was any trouble, he also didn't seem to be in any bad mood-"
Luka's fist slammed on the desk, the wood shaking from the force and a pen rolling to the floor, "Bad mood? That asshole nearly killed her." Both officers jumped at the action and stiffened like statues at their superior's tone.
Ivan bowed, Kim following suit, "We're sorry, colonel Couffaine, if you wish to execute punishment on us you may, we'll accept any repercussions for getting Lieutenant Dupain-Cheng in danger."
Seconds filled with unbearable silence ticked by and they didn't dare lift their heads to see Luka's expression, they waited with baited breath and buckling knees.
Finally, a heavy sigh, before Luka's calmer, tired voice drifted through the office, "Straighten."
They did, like robots, staring at the taller male like terrified children.
Luka ran a hand through his hair, the blue tips seeming vibrant against the darker contrast of his normal brunet hair color, "I apologize for my…outburst. You aren't to blame for what happened, even if you'd been there, the outcome would've been largely the same or similar; with injured." He ran a hand over his jaw, the slight stubble growing there a testament to how poor he'd been taking care of himself for the past week following the incidents with Chat Noir, "Furthermore, I would only ask you to keep an eye on Marinette, she still has injuries that need recovering and-"
The locked door suddenly shook violently, a panicked voice from outside alerting all three men in the room, "Colonel Couffaine! You have to come to the cells! There's been an accident!"
Dread filled the men like ice in their veins and Luka quickly unlocked the door, slamming it open to see the pale face of a fellow officer, "We have to move quickly, there are many injured maybe even dead!"
Luka's hand trembled in rage, squeezing the doorknob so tightly it threatened to break off its hinges, "What happened?"
Both women had calmed down from their emotional outbursts, drinking coffee together and rummaging through Marinette's poor movie collection, "Girl, I swear you wouldn't even own DVDs hadn't I leant you most of them." The two friends giggled and Marinette shook her head as much as she dared, ignoring the burst of pain it sent traveling along the side.
"Hey, it's not like I have a lot of free time to watch them anyways. I have night shifts too."
Alya grimaced and made her voice a pitch higher, "I have night shifts too." It was a poor imitation of Marinette's voice and the cop gently punched her in the arm, both women laughing at their childish antics.
"What was that? I don't even sound like that Alya!" they laughed like they hadn't in a long while, enjoying the other's presence, "It's been a long time since we could relax like this, but are you sure it's okay for you to be here?"
Alya waved her off, "Pff, of course. Besides, Marc is still my apprentice, if the boss says there needs to be something done, Marc can fill in for me, he owes me a few shifts anyway."
Marinette rolled her eyes, "Marc? Why are you torturing the poor thing so much?"
The reporter slapped her own forearm, grinning, "Torturing? You mean tutoring, that boy needs to learn the basics before he can become an accomplished reporter, much less the writer he wants to be!"
Marinette chuckled, shaking her head.
A sudden ringing in the room made both women pause, "Hey, isn't that your phone?" Alya gestured to Marinette's sleek black discarded phone resting on the kitchen table, vibrating with an incoming call.
Marinette rose an eyebrow, standing up and walking towards the table, grabbing her phone.
It was…Ivan?
Picking up, she held the phone to her ear, "Hello? What's up Ivan?"
She heard noises in the background, shouts and loud thuds and Ivan's distressed, loud voice coming through the other line.
His words made Marinette freeze on the spot.
"There's a problem at the precinct."
Thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoyed it! :3 BTW: I'm sorry it's so short, next chapter will be longer.