Laughter echoed through the parisien street. Four youths, two young men and two young women, made their way through the snow, they walked side by side. Their trajectory wasn't entirely straight, swaying from side to side it was clear that some alcohol had been involved. For all that, they weren't overly loud or bothersome. Simply merry, no doubt trying to make their way home after a Christmas party. Most people, not that there were all that many still about given the early hour, smiled bemused and got out of the way. Those who didn't were somewhat clumsily avoided. For the most part, they too had had a few drinks to many too be bothered by such an inoffensive band.

Adrien tried his best to coax his friends away from the curb when they strayed too close. Whilst there might not be many cars out due to the conditions, they were still a few and it would be a shame for such an enjoyable evening to finish with one of them under the wheels of a taxi running a late night shift. He'd already discovered much to Nino's embarrassment and the two girls' amusements that enough bottles of beer seemed to remove the awareness that ice was indeed slippery and something best avoided when at all possible (at least without skates). It wasn't far now and he'd be able to bid goodnight to two of his friends. No doubt they would regret what they had consumed come morning, for the rest of this evening however it was all fun and games. Alya, with her arm locked in that of her boyfriend, seemed roughly able to guide him along in something resembling a straight line. It was the traffic lights which she seemed to struggle a bit more with, reading red as green and green as red.

Still, as they finally reached the old building where the two of them shared a flat, Adrien found himself breathing a sigh of relief. For a moment, he contemplated following them up the stairs to ensure that they at least made it to their flat but decided against it. Thankfully, neither of them were quite that drunk. Instead, he waved a silent "goodnight" to them as they shut the door behind themselves.

"You look cute in that hat..."

He turned his attention to his right, to his final charge.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was comparatively well-behaved. He offered her a soft smile which she was quick to return. Her comments were a part of some quest for recognition of her work. She'd been complementing him about all sorts of things since some time around midnight: his eyes and hair had been the most frequently mentioned, then his height, his hat and finally, to his astonishment, his earlobes. It hadn't taken him all that long to figure out that a few too many glasses of something were no doubt to blame. He hadn't kept track of what exactly she'd had but knew that it had been far more potent than his tea at any rate. Still, as far as drunks went, she wasn't too bad. The former Ladybug could have done worse than complimenting him throughout the night.

He responded in what her perceived as the best and most suited manner; politely and with a gentle smile:

"Nathalie liked the scarf and Plagg here, certainly appreciates the gloves."

He'd sent them the photo Christmas day of Nathalie, Plagg and himself wearing the clothes which Marinette had been so kind as to knit for them. His kwami naturally hadn't appeared on the picture, with only a set of miniscule gloves being noticeable, hovering somewhere near his partner's head. It was clear that she'd put her heart and soul into making them.

He held out his arm, allowing her to loop hers through it. She rested her head against his shoulder, snuggling up to him. He didn't complain but ensured that they continued on their way. Making their way slowly along through the streets, he was in no particular hurry other from the fact that he was aware that it was cold out and could tell that his companion thought the same. They continued to chat. It wasn't about anything in particular, little things. Chloe's annual Christmas party had been a success as far as anyone could tell and they had all had a blast. Perhaps, the young man found himself thinking, a little bit too much. His friends would regret it come morning. Although maybe they would view it as worthwhile.

They reached her front door. For a moment, whilst he watched Marinette fumble around with the keys, he wondered if he might have to help her in. Thankfully, with a shake of her head, she seemed to regain some sense of herself. Peering over her shoulder, cheeks somewhat flushed, the young woman took a few steps towards him.

"I had a nice night." She informed him standing so close had she taken another step, she would have trod on his toes.

"So did I..." He agreed wondering just what she was playing at. "New Year is at my place though, remember."

"Can't wait!" She spoke a little too loudly for his liking. "I love spending time with you chaton..."

"That's a relief."

Perhaps it was the alcohol which was making her a little bit more sluggish than usual or maybe some part of him had been expecting it but as soon as Marinette drew closer to him, Adrien was ready. He raised his hand just in time so that her lips met his palm rather than their original target. Standing on her tiptoes, the young woman's eyes widened out of surprise. Somehow, she remained frozen like that however until he pushed her back. He did so gently, ensuring that he didn't hurt her. She rocked back and forth on her heels a few times, thankfully not to a degree where he worried that she might fall over. Letting out a soft laugh, he decided to explain himself:

"You'll thank me when you're sober." He left a brief pause before adding. "This doesn't quite feel right."

"I've had too much to drink..." At least she was sober enough to realize that much.

"Some sleep will do you some good. Go, get in from the cold."

Placing an arm around her shoulders, he guided her back towards the front door. The young woman didn't complain. Opening it for her, he gently encouraged her inside. No doubt as soon as she'd felt the warmth, it would help convince her that this was where she wanted to be as opposed to outside and exposed to the elements. He ensured that they were as quiet as possible, not wanting to risk awakening her parents. That left them standing there in the entrance to the bakery. Much to his relief, she seemed to have calmed down. Still, there was a slightly awkward atmosphere which hung in the air as he pulled away. He could only hope that she wouldn't remember much about this when she awoke.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Adrien."

He was more willing to give her the customary bise before bidding her farewell. He trusted the young woman to be able to make her own way to her bed. Slipping back out into the cold. He watched as she waved goodbye to him before shutting the door. The young man smiled softly, blowing a kiss before turning back towards the night. The stars were out, at least he thought they were. The way that they lit up the city made it hard to tell. He found himself missing the skies he'd been able to observe from the tops of the mountains. There had been no streetlamps to distract from the thousands of stars. Letting out a sigh, he set out. His bed was calling him. He glanced at his watch, painfully aware that he was going to have to be up in four hours. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he resolved to walk the rest of the way as briskly as possible. The sooner he was home, the better.

Paris' streets held little secrets from him. They hadn't changed much in a decade and he had gotten to know them off by heart during his time as Cat Noir. He wondered if there was a single avenue that he hadn't leapt over or battle an akuma in at some point. The shadows seemed to be dancing tonight however. The young man kept his gaze focused solely in front of him. The quiet streets made it easy for concern and paranoia to creep in. Only the occasional passing taxi provided some strange confirmation that there were other regular people out at this time.

He felt some movement from the inside of his pocket. It was Plagg. The kwami's attention remained focused not on his partner but rather somewhere behind him.

"Adrien..."

"I know." The young man kept his eyes focused solely in front of him, speaking in a hushed tone. "We've got company."

The kwami nodded once before darting back into the shelter of his pocket. Adrien played dumb, continuing on his way as if nothing was up. His eyes darted around, looking for somewhere, anywhere for him to dash away to. Paris being Paris, there weren't many of those around. What he needed was an alleyway or somewhere to disappear. That meant private. He supposed that the early hour would mean that he was unlikely to encounter anyone down one of the small streets but all the same, he was unwilling to risk someone getting a glimpse of him.

Staying calm was key. In his head, he tried to treat it as just another akuma. He'd been fourteen, younger and far more inexperienced when he'd taken on his father's monsters. This was no different. His heart might be racing from the sudden adrenaline rush but he couldn't afford to get reckless, not in such a populated city. Not when he was still so relatively close to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. He clenched his fist, feeling his ring pressing against the palm of his hand. He bit his lower lip to avoid uttering the words too soon. This was still far too open and exposed for him to risk a transformation… As much as his fight or flight or instinct might want it, it would be far safer for him to remain as Adrien Agreste as opposed to Cat Noir, at least for the moment.

Taking a sharp right, the young man finally found what he had been looking for. It might not have been ideal but the dark shadows of the alleyway offered him some shelter and a chance to disappear. He disappeared into them, allowing the darkness to envelop him, just as Master Fu had taught him to.

A figure appeared a few seconds later, standing just at the entrance to the alleyway. They moved silently, barely even making any noise as they trod on the snow. The person glanced around a couple of times, checking if the cost was clear before cautiously following the trail of footprints. Their outfit was unusual, dark and covering their face so that only a small patch of skin around their eyes was visible. It was clear that they intended to be stealthy. The odd way in which they moved; creeping as opposed to walking spoke of some serious training having been done beforehand. It was clear that these were no amateurs. The individual followed the marks in the snow up until a brick wall where they abruptly vanished. There was no evidence of Adrien having gone back on his tracks. They looked around, evidently confused and searching for some trace of him.

"I don't know who you are or what you're hoping to achieve but this is not a good way to go about it."

Stepping out of the shadows where he had concealed himself, the young man made his presence known. The stranger spun around on their heels, evidently startled to see him there. He could see the surprise in their wide eyes. He tried to appear confident, arms folded across his chest. They didn't immediately attack. If anything, upon seeing him there, they seemed to relax, straightening themselves. He frowned, his eyes searching for any trace of a miraculous. He didn't get the feeling that there was anything magical originating from the stranger. Still, he chose to remain cautious. Whilst at the moment, the worst he could accuse this person of was following him, there was still something about the person which set him on edge.

When they refused to speak or otherwise respond to his statement, he decided to continue. He spoke more softly, trying to get the point across:

"If you need help. You could just ask..."

The stranger lunged forwards. They were fast. Had he dropped his guard for even half a second, he had no doubt that the stranger would have been able to grab him. At least that's what he guessed they were trying to do. In practice, he was only just fast enough to side-step them, ducking out of the way. They were quick to recover, coming after him once more. The narrow alleyway now didn't seem like quite such a good idea. He found himself with his back to the wall and the masked attacker still coming. Gritting his teeth, the young man tried to remember his training. Stay calm, concentrate… All of those years spent punching boards and dummies, it was time to put some of that to use.

He intended to simply grab the person's arm, twist it round and get them under some form of control. They swatted his somewhat naive attempt at doing so away rather easily however. They were professionally trained. That much became clear as soon as they had traded a few blows. More than that… Their movements both the attacks and blocks were natural, like a well-oiled machine. This was something they had practised many a time, for hours no doubt, much like he had. Repeating the same old gesture over again and again. He fancied that he probably had the advantage of brute strength over this man/woman (he was still undecided which one it was) but maybe not that of skill. Perhaps, unlike him, they had had the opportunity to practice against more than inanimate objects.

Their attacks were strange however. As opposed to trying to punch him, they seemed to be rather more inclined to swipe at him. It could have had something to do with the unusual design of their gloves. When one passed a little too close to his face for his liking, he thought that he might have seen what he could best describe as claws, about half an inch long sticking out from the ends of the fingers like small daggers. They seemed sharp. It was enough to encourage him not to allow them to make contact with his skin.

This couldn't last much longer. He wouldn't allow it to do so for one. Taking advantage of his opponent's next lunge, Adrien managed to grab their arm. Putting all of his weight into spinning around, he slammed the stranger's back into the wall. He put enough force into it to ensure that they were hurt. At this stage, he no longer cared too much about their well-being so long as he succeeded in bringing the fight to a halt. Moving quickly, he forced his arm to their throat. The young man ensured that they could still breathe but applied enough pressure to discourage his attacker from fighting back. They persisted to struggle however, prompting him to use just a little bit more force. Anger coursed through his veins, demanding that he do something a little bit more severe to this person. It was an instinct which he forced himself to ignore. Instead, he channelled his rage through the cold glare that he gave them:

"Who are you?!" It was a demand, one which left no doubt as to the fact that his patience had officially run out.

A sharp pain struck his right shoulder and a part of his back. He let out an involuntary cry. With his free arm, he found himself instinctively reaching for the spot of his skin which now felt as if it were on fire. In doing so, he staggered backwards a couple of steps. There was someone behind him. Risking a quick glance over his shoulder, he found himself faced with a far larger attacker. If he probably still had the height advantage the newcomer possessed a rather dauntingly broad set of shoulders and muscles to go with it.

Acting on instinct, the young man kicked out behind him. He made contact with the second of the strangers whom he decided to nickname "Mountain" for the purpose of making things a little easier during the fight. The man staggered back but not as much as he had hoped. In fact, the blow scarcely seemed to have registered. A few seconds later, it was his right arm which informed him that something was wrong by hurting so badly, he wondered if it might have been cut off. His head snapped back around.

His stomach turned as he found that the first of his enemies had dug the claws of his glove into his unprotected arm. Instinctively, he leapt backwards, pulling away. They had succeeded in breaking the skin; he could feel blood trickling down his back and see the result from the puncture wounds on his right arm. It was impossible to conceal his pain. At most, he tried not to scream, instead hissing as he moved backwards, eager to put some distance between himself and his attackers. His eyes darted between the two of them, flickering from one to the other as he watched them approach cautiously. Whilst he might have fancied his chances against one, with two of them together, he was beginning to feel some panic creeping in. He winced before straightening himself, fists clenched, he adopted the best fighting stance that he could.

It took him a few seconds to realize that something was wrong. He was light-headed. The alleyway and the two strangers before him seemed to wobble. Closing his eyes, the young man shook his head, trying to pull himself together.

"He's faltering..." Finally, Mountain spoke… But something was off.

"Come on, let's end this." His more softly spoken companion replied. "Kahn's been waiting long enough."

"Chinese! You're speaking Chinese!" Adrien couldn't help but declare in their language.

"Adrien, run!" Plagg called out, still sheltering inside of his pocket.

Their heads snapped up upon hearing him. They wasted no time in charging forwards. His right arm, whether it had been damaged or he was beginning to feel the effects of bloodloss he couldn't have said but it was trembling. With every passing second, he was loosing feeling in it.

Whatever happened next, it was almost a dream. The world was spinning now. He recognized the sensation of being hit in the stomach; the air being knocked out from his lungs. Gritting his teeth, Adrien soldiered on. He lashed out randomly. Trying no longer to immobilize his enemies but simply to survive. He was pushed back. Something cut at his chest, then at his ribs. His left fist, the one he was now relying on made contact with a jaw, then a shoulder. This wasn't going to work. He realized as his head impacted the wall. He couldn't win. Not like this, not against two opponents as skilled and as strong as they were. The young man tried to breathe, to think as clearly as possible and remember the training he had been given, supposedly to guard against such a situation.

What he needed was a breakout point.

A well-placed kick to the groin saw the smaller of the two fall. It was all that the young man needed. He jumped up, kicking against the wall before rolling as he slipped past his remaining foe. The darkness of the alley made the street ahead seem like the light at the end of a tunnel. He ran as quickly his legs would allow. Ignoring the pain of his wounds and the dizziness which was continuing to take hold. He forced himself to continue on. It was a gamble but he assumed that such oddly dressed attackers wouldn't dare give chase into the main streets of Paris. There were too many people and-

A figure appeared, blocking the end of the alleyway. Adrien narrowed his eyes, trying to make them out a bit more clearly. They were looking right at him, arm raised towards him. In a second, terror took hold. His mind couldn't quite work fast enough to find a solution to the gun which was pointed at him. There wasn't the "bang" he had been expecting. In actual fact, it was more of a "pop". Two to be precise. It felt like a bee stung him once in the shoulder, a second time in his left calf. It was enough to stop him in his tracks, causing him to stumble backwards into the shadows colliding with some garbage cans as he went.

A third enemy?

He was on the floor now. His left leg refused to obey his commands, almost limp. His mind was well and truly spinning. Somewhere along the line, the young man was aware that his head was rolling as he found himself unable to keep it stationary. Everything seemed dull and that which wasn't was spinning. That was to say nothing of the numbness which was gradually spreading through his body. It felt like each and every heartbeat was forcing the sensation through his veins, killing off the feeling in his body. He gasped for breath, eyes drifting across his enemies as they approached slowly. His rib cage ached, informing him that he had made a terrible mistake at some point and his reward was going to be some terrible bruises come morning.

At some point, he became aware that he was being dragged. The mountain and the first attacker each had one of his arms and carried him unceremoniously back towards the light. Still dazed, he managed to glance over his shoulder. There was a van there, parked up on the sidewalk and waiting for them. His brain was still clear enough to process the fact that he didn't want to get thrown in there. With a groan, his eyes drifted over his attackers. He was spent. He knew that much. Desperation however was enough to give him a second wind. Summoning his strength, he tugged as hard as possible. Apparently, they hadn't quite been expecting such a move as he found himself slipping free of their iron grip.

He found himself on his back, starring up at the sky above him. His body refused to move any more than it already had as the torpor once more took hold. Even as the third attacker, whom he was more confident was a woman stood over him, all he could do was stare. He found himself fixing a cannister of some kind. Before he could react, he was aware of some liquid being sprayed onto his face. It was as if his eyes were on fire. Unable to stop himself, he let out a piercing shriek of pain. He briefly got to his feet, trying to get as far away as possible. His legs buckled a second later, falling down. Instinct told him to rub his eyes, to try and expel whatever had entered them. He scratched and clawed a his face, desperate to ease the pain. It was probably tears streaming down his cheeks but the burning agony made him wonder if it might have been blood. He trashed around only for a few seconds before the feeling of limpness began once more to take over. Leaving him lying there, powerless. He was vaguely aware that his assailants were approaching once more but unable to do anything about it.

"Kid! Kid!" Plagg was frantic, hovering mere inches in front of him. "Come on! You've got to transform!"

"I can't see..." His voice was little more than a combination of sobs.

"Trust me, you don't want to! Now transform!"

The secrecy of the Guardians was forgotten in favour of a need to survive.

He kept his eyes screwed shut even as he transformed. Fear was now the only thing which kept him going. It was an instinct, a desperate cry originating from inside of him and demanding that he flee. There was no thought required. Cat Noir gave him a momentary boost of strength but more importantly the agility that was required. Adrien was vaguely aware of some shouting as his attackers rushed him, perhaps aware that he was about to slip away. He tried his best to ignore them, grabbing a hold of his staff as tightly as his hands would allow. Even now, he found them to be heavy and unresponsive, as if they were gradually becoming disconnected from the rest of his body. He coughed, his ribs ached something terrible. Somehow, he maintained enough presence of mind to trigger the extension of his weapon. It acted as an elevator, lifting him far above the alleyway and up to the roofs.

He fell. His back collided roughly with one of the Parisien rooftops, knocking the wind out from him once more. With every second, he found feel himself becoming weaker. If the world was no longer spinning, it was only because his eyes weren't open to take note of the fact. The burning sensation was still just as present as it had been originally, seemingly eating away at his flesh. Taking a few deep breaths, he forced himself back to his trembling feet and run.

Run. Run no matter what the cost. Every heartbeat repeated the same message, reminding him that he was in danger. It caused him to ignore the pain from his wounds. He scrambled across the rooftops, colliding with chimney stacks and walls alike. More than once he fell. No doubt some of the locals would be awoken by the commotion. When he ran out of rooftop, he staggered through the streets, trying his best to head in one constant direction. From time to time, the young man forced his eyes open, just to remind himself where he was. The world was blurry and impossibly dark. Vague outlines was all that he had to base himself off of. He wanted to go home. Focusing on the mansion gave him a goal, something to strive to reach. He clawed and clambered, heading in roughly the right direction. He hadn't been too far when he'd been attacked. With each and every step, the young man told himself that there was just one more to come and he would be safe.

Eventually he collided with a gate. It's cold iron bars were strangely familiar. Even with his eyes open for a few seconds, resulting in a pain he could only equate to being stabbed by a thousand needles, he could just make out a vague outline of a building. With what little strength he had left, he managed to heave himself over the top, falling down uselessly on the other side. On another night, he might simply have allowed himself to pass out there, giving in finally to the pain. The force driving him however demanded that he get inside. His left leg had decided to call it a day. He dragged himself along the path, his body becoming increasingly unresponsive even as he made it up the stairs to the door. It took even more effort to stand. He clawed at the wood, eventually pulling himself back up using the handle. Keys… Where were his keys?

"Plagg, claws in!"

Turning back hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt what little strength he had left abandon him. His right leg, the only one currently holding him shook like a leaf, threatening to buckle at any moment. He leaned against the door for support, panicked fingers fumbling through his pocket in search of his keys. When finally they did make contact, he found it almost impossible to insert them into the lock. It was Plagg who finally managed to guide his hand to where it needed to be, allowing him to finally open the door.

He pretty much fell into the hallway. Even in his current state, he was able to realize that he was about to lose consciousness. The dizziness was only getting worse. With each step that he took, he could sense that he was increasingly unlikely to be able to take another before his leg gave out, already he was dragging his left one behind him as if it was dead weight. He staggered along, hands out in front of him frantically searching for something, anything to grab a hold of that he could use to guide himself along or at least to prevent himself from falling. Fear made a home in his stomach. It drowned out all the rest and caused him to do the most instinctive thing that he could. Terrified, he called out for the only person who he felt might be able to answer:

"Nathalie!" He called out desperately with the last of his strength. "Nathalie, please!"

"Adrien?" The reply echoed from somewhere else in the mansion, in a flash, the assistant appeared in the main hall.

"Nathalie! Help me! Please!"

What little reserve he had left abandoned him. Everything was fading away as he fell forwards. Somehow however, instead of encountering the hard marble floor. Battered and broken, he fell into the arms of the woman. Unable to bear his weight, she managed to ease him down to his knees, holding him against her in order to do so. His body had become completely limp, much of the pain was already beginning to fade away as he felt his consciousness begin to slip away. Would he wake up? The terrifying doubt passed through his mind as he felt himself slip away ever further. One last frantic plea was all that his aching throat was able to utter.

"Help me..."

"Oh God..."

Everything faded away as the darkness finally enveloped him.

/

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