Just a quick warning about gore and rape in this chapter. Shit's getting real and I've written some nasty shit in the past but honestly I think this is the most graphic I've gotten to date.
A blonde blur flew at Marinette as she entered the prep trailer, making the teenager stumble backwards and hit a wall. Marie-Christine was sobbing into Marinette's shoulder and her arms were wrapped tightly around her like a python around its prey.
"I can't believe this is happening," she wailed as she buried her face in Marinette's shoulder. Already her sleeve was damp with Marie-Christine's tears. Adrien gave the model a sad look and rubbed her shoulder. "First Emilie and now Nicole. I . . . God, Adrien, how are you holding it together right now?" As quickly as she latched onto Marinette, Marie-Christine grabbed Adrien, easily towering over him and crying into his hair.
"Someone has to be the strong one, Emcé," he said, continuing to pat her back. She sniffed and leaned back, digging into her pocket.
"Why is this happening? They didn't do anything to deserve this," Marie-Christine sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "I was hoping they'd be found alive, that they wouldn't be . . ." Another round of sobs wracked her body and she slumped against Adrien again. For a brief moment, Marinette wanted to drag her off of Adrien. Although the Marie-Christine was far older than them, Marinette disliked how clingy she was acting towards Adrien. It reminded her of Chloé. Jean entered the trailer, giving the three a sympathetic look.
"Adrien, you should go get ready. I'll take care of Marie-Christine and Marinette," he said. Adrien gave Marie-Christine one last hug and squeezed Marinette's hand before dragging himself out of the trailer.
"Give me five, Jean. I need to go wash up real fast." She didn't even wait for him to give her permission or not, leaving the trailer. Jean sighed and motioned for Marinette to sit down.
"Mr. Agreste should have given her and Adrien the day off," he sighed. He grabbed a comb and undid her pigtails before brushing them out. "Marie-Christine's been distraught since the police showed up yesterday."
"Did she know Adrien's mom?" she asked. Jean gave her a quizzical look.
"Of course she did. She's Adrien's cousin. Emilie is - was - her mom's sister." Cousins? How come Adrien's never mentioned her? She felt a flash of guilt for her earlier jealousy. Jean sighed as he grabbed a straightener. "From my understanding, she never saw Emilie all that much but her heart's too big for her body." After a quick runthrough with the straightener he spun Marinette around and started applying a creamy burgundy eyeliner on her. "How's Adrien holding up?"
"He's been better," she replied.
"I can imagine. We all hoped Emilie would come home safely, but I guess that wasn't in the cards."
"Did you work with her a lot?"
"I did. I've been with the Agreste gang since before Gabriel started designing professionally." She nodded. She wondered whether she should ask more questions, but the hard look in his eyes seemed to tell her no. The trailer fell silent as Jean worked his magic, painting her eyelids, putting light matte lipstick on her, rubbing away any imperfection with foundation and concealer. Marinette tried hard not to wince; two days of constantly taking makeup on and off was making her face sore and it she had to feel another Q-Tip on her eyelid she was going to scream and curl up into a ball.
Today's workload was considerably less than yesterday's, and for that Marinette thanked her lucky stars, but as she sat watching the other models, she couldn't help but feel worried. What if one of her coworkers were next? What if Adrien was next? Or Marie-Christine? As models came and went in front of her, Marinette couldn't help but wonder if she'd see the news reporting them dead.
I have to do something, she realized. I need to intervene as Ladybug.
Ladybug flew across Parisian rooftops as she made her way towards the police station. Just five minutes ago she called Chat Noir and asked him to meet her, saying they were going on a patrol of the city. And maybe they would, but really she just needed to talk to him about the situation going on. As usual, he arrived at their meeting place on time, a cocky grin on his lips.
"Long time no see, my lady," Chat said, bowing to her and kissing her hand.
"Yeah, it's been a week, hasn't it?" she realized. A whole week without an akuma attack. While she appreciated the break, she had to admit she did miss her partner in that dead time.
"It's been far too long. I'm glad you called me. I think patrolling the city would be a paws-itively great thing." She chuckled and swatted at his arm. When did his puns actually make her laugh?
"Actually, I have a lead on something," she told him. He gave her a curious look.
"A lead? Why aren't we over there now purifying the akuma?" he asked
"Well, I'm not completely sure it is an akuma," she explained. "But I've been thinking about this for a while and, well. You know how they just found the bodies of Emilie Agreste and Nicole Champlain?" Chat's face fell ever so slightly,
"Do you really think it could be an akuma doing this?" he asked critically. "We've never had an akuma that's bent on murdering people and dumping their bodies. Not to mention Emilie Agreste went missing years ago. I don't think an akuma could last that long."
"I don't know! It just seems weird that in the span of two days, two dead models have been found. I know Mrs. Agreste went missing years ago but this kind of MO fits an akuma. A specific type of person is being attacked here. Doesn't that seem a little suspicious?" she inquired. Why was he fighting me on this? Normally he's so gung-ho to save people, she thought.
"It's suspicious but I don't think it's an akuma. That would mean Emilie walked out on her family and was only killed recently," he argued. She noted the heated note in his voice and felt a jolt of guilt.
"Well, maybe the discovery of Emilie's body sparked an akuma. Her husband -"
"Are you even listening to yourself? There's no way an akuma's been out there for four years and we haven't known about it. And I know Gabriel Agreste is a cold man, but he's not been akumatized. Don't you think one of us or one of our kwamis would have known about it by now?" he argued. He had a point. Tikki or his kwami would have told them. And she knew none of the Agreste were akumatized. But there was something fishy going on and if it meant grasping for straws in order to get Chat Noir on her side, then by all means she'd do it.. "I hate to say it, but I think we're just dealing with some psycho here."
"But it's one kind of victim -"
"Jack the Ripper had one kind of victim and he wasn't an akuma! Ladybug, we're not dealing with an akuma right now!" Chat Noir never raised his voice with her. And maybe under normal circumstances she'd back off immediately. But this was serious and in that moment, Marinette just wanted to get through to him and prove him wrong.
"It's still our duty to protect people!" she cried.
"We only fight against akumas and Hawkmoth! Can't we just leave this to the police?"
"No, I can't! I can't just sit by idly when there's something terrible going on! What if Adrien is next?" Stillness hung in the air as they both froze. He looked shocked, green eyes wide as he stared down at her.
"Adrien?"
"He's . . ." She sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was break Chat's heart by telling him she was dating someone. He was already upset enough. "Adrien Agreste is my friend and since his mother and a fellow model have been killed, I don't want him to be next. I couldn't live with myself if he was murdered and I just sat around and did nothing to stop it!" The air fell silent as Chat stared at her. For once in her life, she couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"We have a duty to Paris to protect its citizens, that's true, but I don't know if we should get involved with this," he said softly. "But if you're going to look into it, I'm not going to let you do this alone."
"So you'll help me?" she asked. He smirked.
"Since when have I left you on your own?"
The police station was buzzing with activity as Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way to the records room, a young detective leading them through the maze of desks and hallways.
"We're still looking for leads," the detective, Juliette, informed them. "So far we haven't found any enemies, mutual or otherwise, between Agreste and Champlain."
"Do you think they're connected?" Chat asked.
"Yes. At both crime scenes there was a folder containing photographs of the women. We ran them for DNA but no such luck." Juliette opened a door and motioned them inside. It was bleak and filing cabinets lined the room, towering all the way to the ceiling. She went to a drawer and rifled through it quickly before pulling out two folders. "We're still conducting research on Agreste's body, if you'd like to check that out for anything."
"I don't think that will be necessary," Chat spoke up.
"What about Champlain's? Have you determined cause of death for her? Or Agreste?" Ladybug asked.
"That's what we're looking at now for Agreste and we have two theories. Either blood loss or head trauma. We're still trying to figure out which came first." Juliette was still clutching the folders and Ladybug could see her knuckles were white.
"I see. Can we look at the photographs now?" she asked politely, hand stretching out for them. Juliette bit her lip but nodded.
"Be warned, they're pretty graphic," she said before handing the folders over to Ladybug and Chat Noir. Let's start with Champlain, Marinette thought, putting Nicole's folder on a table and spreading the photos out.
Chat Noir blanched and Ladybug felt her blood freeze. Nicole didn't even look like a person anymore. Her face had been skinned and slashed to the point that Marinette wondered how in the world they could have identified her; she looked so alien. Her legs were spread and her pelvis was completely decimated, organs everywhere and no trace of intact skin anywhere. Her abdomen was sliced open and ribs cracked. Blood was everywhere and a dry ache shot through Ladybug's throat.
"Did these . . . did these happen after she died?" Ladybug asked, trying to steady her voice.
"We don't think so," the officer replied gravely. She nodded, trying to remain as stoic as possible. "We can't determine her cause of death because of this. Her body is just too ruined to get much information out of it, but we tried. " Juliette pointed to a few other photos. "These photos were sent to a friend of Champlain's and some were found at the crime scene."
"The killer sent her these photos?" Chat inquired.
"Yes. A few of Emilie's were sent to her husband as well and we have those now. It's probably a calling card of some kind." The photos in question featured Nicole, still alive but looking utterly miserable. Her face caught in silent screams as demonic traps sliced her and pure agony on her face as several objects were forced into her. Marinette felt bile rising in her throat and swallowed it back down. Only a few photos could be considered "tame," Nicole gagged and tied into sexual positions, the fear on her face breaking Ladybug's heart. How much had this poor girl gone through before she died?
"Who would do something like this?" she wondered.
"We don't know. Obviously someone with a sick mind. We're trying to get a hold of a few informants in the underground porn industry and seeing if they may know who did this. Right now that's our only lead," Juliette replied.
"Are Agreste's this bad?" Ladybug asked. Juliette said nothing, plucking the folder out of her hands and spreading the photos over Nicole's.
"Agreste's body may have been in better shape, but Nicole seemed to have better treatment," Juliette answered darkly. Ladybug glanced down at the photos and slumped forwards, hands propping herself up.
Dozens of photos of Emilie, all black and white, depicted so many different tortures that Ladybug didn't know whether she wanted to vomit, pass out, scream, or all. Emilie was tied down in uncomfortable positions, some sexual and some not. Sometimes she was covered in semen, sometimes Marinette didn't even want to know what was on her body. But all of the photos showed some kind of bloodcurdling torture, rape, or both. Her eyes teared up, looking through the photos as Emilie's face went from sheer agony to a dull, numb look, as if she had already felt enough pain for one lifetime and was just waiting for the release of death. And given the amount of photos and the bruises that came and went, she didn't get that release quickly.
A retching sound dragged her attention away from the photographs and over to Chat. He was bent over a trashcan, pale as a sheet. He stood back up slightly before his stomach heaved again, vomit spewing from his lips and onto his hands.
"Chat?!" Ladybug demanded, hurrying over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head, cheeks puffing out and tears running from his eyes.
"There's a bathroom around the corner," Juliette told them. He ran there, Marinette trailing behind him. As soon as he reached the small room, another bout of vomit poured from his mouth into a sink, coughing and chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. She grabbed a few paper towels and helped him clean up his mouth. Silvery tears tracks stained his face and his eyes were red, more tears welling up in them. I shouldn't have done this. I should have come alone, she thought.
"I'm sorry, Chat," she said, wiping away some excess vomit on his chin. "I should have listened to you and let you stay out of this."
"We didn't know it would be this bad," he said. He started washing his hands. "I just . . . why would someone do that? Why the hell would someone do that to two innocent women?"
"I don't know. If you don't want to help with the case, you don't have to. I'm fine taking this on my own -"
"No. After seeing that, I can't just let some disgusting piece of shit do that to more women. Emilie and Nicole deserve justice." She nodded and rested her head against his shoulder. Wordlessly, his arms wrapped around her and the two embraced. His breathing had slowed down a little but it was still far from normal. He just needed some time. Maybe the officers would let him lie down somewhere while he recooperated.
Rapid footsteps echoed outside the bathroom door, wordless shouting penetrating the rooms. What in the world? Ladybug propped the door open to poke her head out. Several officers were running around, grabbing their things as if to flee.
"What's going on?" she demanded to a nearby man as he loaded his gun.
"Another body has been found."
Marinette didn't know how she was supposed to sleep that night. Every time she shut her eyes she could see Emilie being raped by demonic figures, Nicole's decimated body, poor Arnaud, the latest victim, lying on a gurney. Maybe Chat had been right all along. Maybe she shouldn't have gotten involved. But what if the killer targeted Adrien next? Or Marie-Christine? Or Gabriel? Clearly the killer was slaughtering models and they all had targets on their backs. Even she did, as much as she hated to admit it.
She looked down at her alarm clock. It was midnight. She'd gone to bed hours ago and while she was exhausted, she couldn't sleep and frankly, she was terrified about the dreams she would have after seeing all that death. This wasn't her expertise. Akumas never killed anyone. This time, there was no Lucky Cure to save anyone.
Silently, to not wake Tikki, she got up and went down into the kitchen. Maybe some warm milk would help soothe her. The living room was dark, only a few rays of moonlight streaming in from the windows. She could hear the light strains of her parents' TV from downstairs; they fell asleep to the TV every night and doubted they'd be awake so late. As she reached for the fridge door a faint scratching and knocking sound filled the room. What? What is that, she wondered. The noise continued to fill the room. It sounds like something's at the door. Grabbing a long knife, she inched towards the door and looked through the peephole.
"Adrien?!" she demanded in a hushed whisper as she flung the door open. He was dressed in his pajamas, a light sweatshirt thrown over his torso. His hair was far messier than she'd ever seen it before and he looked whiter than a ghost. "Adrien, what -" He cut her off, throwing his arms around her and pulling her into a rib-crushing hug.
"You weren't answering your phone and I got scared," he murmured. "I came by to check on you." His green eyes flitted to the knife. "Were you going to stab me?!"
"I didn't know who it was!" she explained, ducking back to the kitchen to sheathe it. "You shouldn't be out when there's some crazy model killer on the loose."
"I thought he got you." She froze at the way his words got caught in his throat. His eyes were bigger than saucers and gleaming. "I thought something happened to you."
"Hey, I'm fine," she replied soothingly, putting her arms around his neck.
"I can't stop seeing her. I can't stop seeing my mom and I thought . . ." His voice broke and he pulled her into him again, burying his face in his neck. "Please let me stay the night. I need you." Her parents would kill her if they caught them. She was supposed to be grounded. But Adrien needed her and it would be unsafe to send him back home. Even if they lived close by, there was no guarantee he'd make it back to his house. Marinette nodded and led him upstairs.
He stripped off his sweatshirt as he crawled into bed beside her. Arms wrapped around torsos and legs tangled with each other. Adrien buried his face into her neck, his hot breath warming her skin. His heart was pounding against her and she imagined hers was too. Never had she been so close to someone, and certainly hadn't been in such an intimate position like this before. It sent adrenaline coursing through her veins and excitement gave way to a warm, comfortable feeling. This felt right. This was exciting and comforting all at the same time.
Gradually, their hearts slowed down and Marinette felt herself fall into a deep sleep, a black void where the only thing she could feel was the warmth of Adrien's body.