Author Note: Okay, most of my stuff is exciting and angsty, and I PROMISE…we'll have fun here too…but I'm going for a darker…grittier theme. I suffer from depression, and I have fits of wanting to escape…or feeling like I have nothing inside of me…so I hope you enjoy…and remember…I love Miraculous and the charters, but I DO NOT OWN THEM! Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One: A New Type of Hero
His vibrant cat eyes flickered, reflecting the fire raging across the city. The fight was over, but the damage was permanently done. Only the howls of devastation greeted his sensitive ears, but still, the feline hero refused to move from his perch.
Even as the thick crimson spilled lazily down his abdomen, visible in the tear in his armor, he refused to twitch even his tail. Hawk Moth, his father, was done, but at what costs to his sanity and soul?
A large gouge scathed diagonally from his left collarbone down the middle of his chest, only drifting off at his ribs, light, due to loss of traction from his dodge. He didn't worry over the blood dripping steadily from his lip, or the broken ribs on the opposing side of his gash. Nothing mattered, honestly, in this cathartic moment. Hawk Moth was defeated…and his purpose was null…even after Ladybug had abandoned him.
He couldn't cure the havoc raging across Paris, and if he was being honest, he didn't care. The destruction of his power cascaded through his chest, tainting his heart. Of course, it was only fueled by the loss of anything significant, and Chat knew nothing would matter again. He was alone. Darkness could have his heart, but he would use his skill to protect those from the same fate.
Adrien…
The Kwami's voice spiraled through his soul, coaxing a semblance of emotion, but the blonde pushed back against the power, building a barrier. He would not care…ever again. He learned his lesson the moment his Lady abandoned him. He would be a hero, but he didn't have to embody compassion to do so.
Emotions only led to weakness…and he would never succumb again. He would be the greatest hero the world ever saw. He would put everything aside, his life, love, and his feelings…and secure the safety of the universe if needed. Nothing was going to stop him from unlimited potential now…he was the epitome of sacrifice and power…only…he would never lose…no matter what.
"I'm no longer Chat Noir," he whispered into the sultry air, heavy with the inferno spreading along the buildings of his home. "I am simply…La Nuit," he breathed, falling forwards off the building, disappearing into the streets…once a comfort…now his camouflage.
***Two Years Later***
Dark emerald eyes glinted dangerously, skimming along the faces shifting by his form. His blonde locks were overgrown, hanging well into his eyes, hiding just how much animal peeked through his human orbs.
Over the last couple of years, he'd been in so many cities, walking the streets every night, allowing his beast to take over. His senses enhanced with each day…week…month, until he could taste the scents of panic and fear at the back of his throat if he concentrated enough.
"This place smells," Plagg grumbled from within his leather jacket pocket.
"Better than the last city," he replied brusquely, sliding his gaze off towards the alley he was passing. He didn't have his super senses in this form, but he could see better than anyone else down the darkened pathway.
Garbage was piled around a rusted green dumpster, a few rats taking advantage of the spillage scattered around the cracked pavement. A chain linked fence stood at the end of the desolate area, but there were no other signs of life. Just an abandoned dead end.
"You could take a break one night," The Kwami complained bitterly.
Adrien ignored the ancient as his head swiveled to the opposing side, glimpsing a similar alley. Cardboard boxes appeared to be erected along the slender corridor, and he noticed the movement of two people, filthy, hunched, gathering around a shopping cart full of miscellaneous things. Homeless, desperate, not criminals. Well, not unless the items were stolen, but definitely not the top of his priority list.
The blonde trudged forward, listening to the displeased growls of his partner. "You may be able to run on nothing, but we should eat soon." The tone was full of resentment and barely contained sarcasm. "You're going to kill yourself, and then who will play vigilante?"
"If we stop for food, will that quell your griping?"
"I don't want those stupid protein bars you keep trying to shove in my face," the onyx cat hissed vehemently. "They're disgusting."
Adrien rolled his eyes slowly, rubbing his fingers along the short stubble along his jaw. "Fine," he muttered, letting his feet guide them away closer to the heart of New York City.
They'd arrived, stowed on a cargo train a few weeks before. He'd grown accustomed to using the back routes and learning the beat of the places he visited. There was always a way to get around without his identity being exposed. Adrien Agreste was still missing following his father's death. Nobody bothered looking for Nelson Thatcher. He didn't like the name, but it wasn't one he needed to use often.
The first few months away from Paris were the hardest. He'd had to dye his hair, learn to trust instincts he wasn't used to…trusting no one. He'd figured out how to self-patch wounds, recognize places that were willing to overlook identification…and avoid being out in the day as much as possible.
He had money, sure, but he couldn't use any of his original cards, because they would get flagged. He was considered a person of interest due to his father's revealed activities, but he couldn't care less about that. He was free, and nobody was going to stop him from helping others. He made his money hustling the hustlers mostly, and it kept his basic needs covered. That was enough.
The blonde's fingers pushed against the bar of the glass door, listening to the chime of the bell as he breached the entrance. The immediate wave of heat pressed against his body, and the invasive smell of old oil and meat filled his nostrils, making him wince as he kept his head down.
Nobody else was here, and he presumed the missing desk employee was in the back, busy with the grills. "Hope you're happy," he said under his breath, scanning the empty foyer. It was a pathetic atmosphere, the yellow wallpaper peeling from the wall itself. Several flies danced around the two booths available on the left wall, and there were fake plants all over the place.
"I love American Chinese food."
"You love almost anything disgusting to fill your gut," he countered easily, a sharp edge lining his words as he pressed onwards, tapping the metal bell on the grease coated counter. The sound was sharp, and he waited.
"What can we get you?" A decidedly Asian woman appeared from the back, her dark eyes friendly, obsidian hair pulled tight into a bun.
"How can I help you today?" Her accent wasn't thick, but he could hear the foreign nature of her voice. His own French accent had taken awhile to tone down on the run, but overall, he sounded American.
He switched to Mandarin, seeing if the lady would prefer that. "I just need an order of fried rice and pork."
The smile that exploded across her pretty face should have instilled tendrils of satisfaction and light through his chest, but instead, the ice remained, cold, unwavering. The anchors of his underlying darkness wedged further into the recesses of his mind, and he felt not a thing staring at her thankful smile.
"Of course," she responded in kind, the light flickering in her eyes genuine, and the most he could do was offer an empty, practiced, smile in return. It seemed to do the trick as she retreated swiftly towards the rear of the establishment.
"Kid, you need to feel. It's important."
"Have I not been protecting people on my own for two years?" His voice dripped with dangerous poison, coated to warn his Kwami that the discussion wasn't one he planned on indulging.
"You know you've done…okay," Plagg countered, voice more soft than it usually was. "However, there is more to heroes than getting rid of the bad guys."
Adrien snorted then, dry, brittle. "Doesn't seem it." Gradually, his eyes shifted towards the television, which was muted, behind the counter. A vague picture of a shadow was frozen on the screen, but the captioning said 'Chat Noir still sought for questioning.' "Adrien's upper lip pulled back, releasing a soft snarl. "I hate when they use that name."
"Chat Noir is your na—"
"I am only La Nuit! There is no other life," he snapped, spinning away from the counter, stalking towards the exit.
"W-wait, my food!"
"We have protein bars at the loft."
***POV Change***
Her golden orbs combed the immense expanse of the city, weighing her options carefully. The pursing of her lips was the only thing that gave way to her immediate apprehension as she searched, unable to gain her footing. There was no definitive sign of the Destruction…Hero.
We have to find him.
"I'm aware," she breathed, her words disappearing as a fog on the currents of the rapidly cooling wind. "Chat is not an opponent to be taken lightly, but I understand the need to find him quickly," she whispered, tucking her wavy auburn locks behind her ears.
She could understand why the hero snapped following Hawk Moth's death….after she'd discovered his true identity….after…
I can scent his metaphysical presence.
Her Kwami shivered in the depths of her own soul, and the heroine knew it wasn't a fight she wanted. Although, the hunt, the chase, excited her, fueling the heat coursing through her blood…she knew, this fight was not one she wished upon herself…or anyone opposing the blonde. He was skilled. He was angry. He was…deadly.
"Lead the way," she whispered, the words lost before they left the barrier of her lips, but still…she knew her Kwami heard them.
As you command.
The agile hero leapt, diving from the highest point of the Empire State Building, plummeting towards the ground, unable to stop the excitement pulsing through her veins. She knew she couldn't stop Chat…but…it felt good to be on the prowl once more after so long.
