Encrypted - Chapter II

401

Bonjour mes miraculers! :wave:

So, I was going to finish the next chapter of my Naruto AU, but I hit a huge stump while writing and had trouble making the chapter flow, so I decided to a chapter of this story sooner!!!! :kiss:

After I ed the first chapter, I was amazed and quite in shock actually that so many of you liked this and wanted to see a continuation! It makes me so thankful that I have such kind readers, it’s been over two years since I got this app and I’ve felt that this experience has changed me as a writer and person for the better, and for that I thank you Miraculous Amino for everything. I hope to continue this journey as a writer for many years to come!!!

Now onto the chapter! Enjoy! :two_hearts:

Word Count: 2920

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Edit: Thank you for the feature! :heart: :heart: :heart:

***

Recap

“It’s taken me months, but I’ve finally found you,” the mysterious woman struts a few steps forward, sapphire orbs piercing through his own electric green as her handgun aims directly towards the center of his forehead.

“Adrien Agreste.”

________

Chat Noir flinches at the surname he abandoned so many years ago. Just who was this woman? And how did she know who he was? No one except the higher-ups in his crime organization knew his true identity. At least, that’s what he thought before being proven wrong. Heart pulsing in loud thumps, his fingers subtly slide downwards toward his own trigger.

The sound of a bullet shot rings out from the raven-haired woman’s handgun, landing in close proximity near his toes to which he balks, a yelp sprouting from his mouth. The area where the bullet had landed was burnt to a coal-like color, puffs of smoke sizzling from it.

“Don’t even think about it,” the beautiful woman warns him, locking and reloading her gun as if preparing to shoot him again. “There’s no chance of escaping, we have you surrounded on all sides.”

Without meaning to, the blond recoils from her open threat. An inch closer, and the bullet would have blown off his entire foot. Chat Noir resists the urge to sigh; he was having way too many close calls today. More so than usual. He grinds his teeth together, beads of precipitation dripping down his forehead.

While it was undeniable that the essence of her beauty rivals that of Aphrodite, her presence exudes danger in bold crimson lettering. Considering that she seemed to be the captain of her own platoon, only a fool wouldn’t understand that she was not one to be underestimated.

“No chance of escaping huh? Well, that’s not fair,” he plasters a cocky grin over his face. “You didn’t even see me use any of my tricks yet.” He knew he was bluffing, but at this rate, it was his only shot at making it out with all arms and legs intact. It was a gamble, but he hopes his words would throw off his surrounders’ rhythm. Their assuredness in themselves would be tested against him, and he was going to twist that to his advantage. If he could get a few of the guards to doubt themselves, he might just have a chance.

The bluenette smirks like she could see through his lie like a straight arrow. “Drop the act, Kitty. You and I both know you have no ace left up your sleeve. Surrender now, and I’ll spare you and your men from the privilege of being publicly executed.”

“And if I won’t?” Chat Noir retorts, eye twitching at the nickname.

At this the woman sighs, “Y’know, I didn’t really want to resort to this, but you’re leaving me no choice,” she swerves her head around towards her squad. “Bring them in.”

In the blackened backdrop of the museum, he hears the shuffling of feet against the marble flooring and a mixture of incomprehensible voices in protest. Even with his enhanced eyesight, he could barely make out four silhouettes.

As they were shoved into the flickering white light, the cat-like slits of Chat Noir’s eyes thin in appallment, staggering his formerly overconfident stance.

He wants to pinch himself as to wake himself from this nightmare. This nightmare of him and his men pushed into a corner while their lives were hanging thinly on a spider’s thread, their necks held at gunpoint. All four (including Carapace) were battered to a pulp with black-blue bruises, trickles of blood escaping their noses and mouths, and nicked scratches. From what he could gather from their bloody appearances, he assumes they must have been destroyed in hand-to-hand combat and then restrained by those clunky chain cuffs.

How could he have let this happen? How could he have failed?

Luckily they were all alive, but as Chat’s eyes land on Carapace’s wounds, something felt...off. Having absolute trust in his partner’s abilities, he could not believe that Carapace was beaten by someone from the police force unless they held some sort of trump card. His injuries also didn’t look as severe as the rest of his subordinates despite Chat knowing that his partner would have fought nail and bone to protect his team.

The blond watches as his partner’s eyelids twitch open, lifting his head as slow as molasses. Sorrowful gold meet with paralysed green.

“Forgive me,” Carapace mouths before his head lolls, heart painfully panging. Forgive him? For what? He should have been blaming his incompetent leader. Loathing him. Not apologizing.

With those words, Chat’s knees buckle against his will, bringing him down onto his knees. He feels as though he was hallucinating as he is roughly forced back onto his trembling legs, and his hands transformed to lead from the iron handcuffs.

***

Adrien stares at the blank walls of the stuffy interrogation room, void of any feeling in his numbed body. His wrists were locked to the back of his chair; every time he struggled, the chains rattled, the restraints keeping him in check. He lets loose an irritated noise, clobbering his forehead onto the edge of the plastic table so hard, he wouldn’t be shocked to find out he gave himself a concussion.

How wonderful, another wound to add to his collection. Just when the day couldn’t get any worse.

The blond was agitated at the fact that the officers had been careful and smart enough to thoroughly search and prode the entirety of his body for any hidden weapons. By the way they searched, he was almost surprised that they didn’t confiscate his clothing alongside them.

If his chances of escaping were low then, they were probably below zero now. With his body stuck to this inextricable chair, the security camera monitoring his every movement for any suspicious activity, and the amount of guards stationed beside the interrogation room door, all possible attempts of escaping were thrown out the window.

Tch, I’ve really outdone myself this time, just how bad could this situation get?

Being the utterly kind gentleman that it was, his bad luck gave him an answer.

His ears prickle at the sudden unclicking of a lock and creak of an opening door, followed by the sound of...heels, the sound of hell itself. Despite knowing exactly who it is, his eyes automatically flash upwards, making eye with that unforgettable shade of cerulean.

Oh joy…

The first thing he notices after dropping eye was her new attire: an unbuttoned coffee-colored jacket that was clashing beautifully with her snowy colored camisole and ripped boyfriend jeans. For an officer of the law (in spite of the fact that she was quite young), she was dressed rather casually for an interview, something that surprised him.

“Where’s my men?” he spats out the moment they were eye-to-eye, not wasting a second on small talk.

“In custody,” she replies in a clipped tone that was slowly grating on his nerves. Ignoring his obviously seething rage, she pulls over a foldable metal chair from the back corner, the chair leaving behind an unnerving scraping noise as she drags it across the room. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather you leave me the job of asking the questions, and you staying as the informant.”

Her pompous statement ticks him off like clockwork, as if she was rubbing salt in the wound at the fact that she was able to capture him, an impossible feat made possible. The blond takes in a sharp intake of breath. Maybe there was a way he could talk himself out of this - find a way to negotiate his and his comrades’ lives. Impatiently, he waits till she situates herself.

“Fine,” he lightly gnaws his lower lip, the pressure eating him from the inside out, “have it your way.” The raven-haired woman smiles, her strawberry-colored lips curved up at the corners.

“Despite this being our second meeting, I don’t think I had the chance to properly introduce myself, Kitty,” she says sweetly, head tipping forward and her fingers interlocking with one another.

Adrien resists rolling his eyes, “Yeah, no kidding. Considering the first time, you and your squad almost killed us.”

The blue fire in her eyes dance in amusement, and she releases a close-lipped, musical laugh, “Yeah, sorry bout that. You see, I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. I mean how else was I supposed to get you to come here?” As much as he hated to it that she was right, he chooses to remain quiet because without the leverage she was holding over him, he would have refused to make surrendering easy. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance Kitty, I’m Marinette.”

“Well, Marinette,” her name rolls off his tongue, “if you didn’t have my men in captivity, don’t think I would have submitted so easily. The only reason I’m here is because you promised that my men wouldn’t be harmed so long as I agreed to come here willingly,” he says, eyes narrowing.

“Of course, I understand completely,” she replies without batting an eyelid. “And as for your men, they won’t be harmed, so long as you cooperate,” she plops a stack of loose leaf paper and two pink pens onto the table so suddenly that the pens threatened to roll off the flat surface, “let’s start the interrogation, shall we?” Gone was the chirpy attitude from moments before, sapphires replaced with eyes that were as cold as blizzards, cold enough to freeze the blazing pits of hell.

***

Marinette resists groaning for the umpteenth time, swearing to the heavens that this interrogation was going to be the death of her. It had been over two hours, yet she had barely written anything useful in her notebook worth mentioning to the police department. Other than a few scribbles and doodles, the lined papers held nothing of importance.

But what was worse than her empty report was Adrien himself, known far and wide by his alias Chat Noir, she never would have foreseen his utterly apathetic behavior towards her. It. Was. Frustrating. She hears a rather obnoxious yawn, the size of a flying saucer, from the other side of the table, dispersing the beloved silence. Speak of the devil.

The young police officer feels her eye twitch, and she has a compelling urge to scratch the living daylights out of the irritating thorn by her side.

“Can I go rot in my cell yet?” The feline criminal snarks with an arrogant smirk, seemingly forgetting his manners, propping and crossing his legs on top of the table in a relaxed position. “I’m sure whatever I’ll be suffering through there can’t be nearly as boring as what we’re doing now.”

At his shrewd words, the vice grip on her mechanical pencil tightened, so much so she was astonished the lead hadn’t snapped in two yet. “You haven’t answered any of my questions yet, Kitty,” Marinette snaps, her impatience creeping through. What she despised was that she knew he knew that he was playing her like strings on a violin - his blunt remarks irking her more than it should.

He feigns a gasp, mocking her with his hand quotations. “It’s not my fault I don’t know the answers to your so called “important” questions.”

“Don’t know? Or refuse to tell?” The police officer quirks a brow. He innocently breaks eye to ire something nonexistent on the ceiling, pushing her buttons to no end.

“Sorry Princess,” he yawns from exhaustion (oh he did not just call her Princess), the interrogation was also most likely driving him over the edge of boredom. “But, I’m afraid to say that you’re prob asking the wrong guy.”

Marinette takes in a composed breath, trying to regain control of her flaring emotions. She had not the time nor the patience to deal his imprudence any longer than deemed necessary for the day. “You’re this group’s leader, aren’t you?”

That sickening smirk of his returns much to Marinette’s despair. “Well aren’t you observant?” Oh, she shuts her eyes for a split-second, imagining the foreplay now. The sweet as candy sound of his jaw alongside his bloated ego cracking into smithereens from a single punch from herself. It was just the two of them inside; the remaining platoon of guards were packing up after their last night shift had ended. No one would know if she were to break a few of his bones, right? Inflict just a couple bruises to give him a sense of what respect was.

But then, she ed the security camera hanging about in the far corner, and she fights the desire to just give her newest client sitting here a good smack, knowing for a fact that her boss, the Parisian government, and the godforsaken press wouldn’t take too kindly to her emotions taking priority over the law, resulting in worse things than just putting her career on the line. Over a measly criminal, losing her job wasn’t worth it.

The bluenette purses her lips, knowing that her silent plea was but a fleeting dream, instead choosing to move on to another question. “Who are your superiors, the ones running this crime underworld of yours?” This game they were playing, she had no intention of letting him checkmate her so easily; no, she refused to play by his rules, but if he was willing to play dirty then so be it.

Adrien shrugs nonchalantly, sadistically enjoying the way his lack of seriousness and investment in their conversation was riling her up. “Don’t know. No one does. It’s one of the things I really like about our organization,” he glares daggers at her, dead in the eye, not backing down from her unspoken challenge. “We’re great at keeping secrets.”

Marinette eyes him skeptically, undecided on whether or not to believe him. His stiffening features give away that he didn’t blame her. If he were in her shoes (not that he would ever spend a day in those death-inducing heels), he wouldn’t trust himself either.

“I wonder,” she drawls, skimming her painted nails over the crumpled notebook paper, gathering her thoughts. “These secrets that your association swore to protect,” she notices how his gaze trails after her fidgeting fingers, “for how long do you intend to keep them?”

His answer was without hesitation. “If need be, I’ll take them to my own gravestone.”

“Even at the cost of your life? Who knew your crime syndicate were capable of raising such loyal dogs to do their bidding.” If there was any chance of him spilling open his affiliation’s can of worms, now was the time.

Adrien smirks. “I could say the same thing about you. As an upholder of the law, you practically preach about righteousness and justice every day of your life. Doesn’t that make you just as much as a slave to something like us criminals?” his response floors her. “If there’s anything you should know about me, it’s that I’m not a traitor, and I can guarantee you that none of my men are either. Despite the majority of them being idiots, they won’t talk no matter what hell you put them through,” he leans forward, his green eyes sparking like electricity. “Cause you see officer,” he says in a low murmur, “the moment we chose this path, we’ve already decided to walk through hellfire.”

“B-But you’ve all betrayed the law though,” she sputters a retort, seeing a hypocritical loophole in his beliefs.

“Who said we were ever loyal to it in the first place?” the blond says, appearing more than gleeful about his comeback. “To idealists like you, the law must be like a safe haven, but for lawbreakers like myself,” he chuckles half-heartedly, “the law keeps us caged like songbirds. At least while pursuing a life of crime, we had the freedom to do whatever we wanted while we could before we were caught,” he shrugs, the firmament seeming closer to his reach. “I’ve got no more regrets.”

A cacophonic tidal wave of silence permeates the room. Magnified by his bitter speech on the black and white and grey beliefs of society, Marinette was at a loss for words. Her lips curl into a small frown, feeling guilt for having pushed him to the brink of exploding, not that he was off the hook for attempting the same earlier. She didn’t know the reason behind the glacial aura emitting from the depths of his soulless body, but the raven-haired officer didn’t want to believe that the man sitting before her was as heartless as he was making himself out to be.

Having been a part of multiple interrogations such as these, Marinette had heard the most tragic of pasts from outlaws on numerous occasions. Each more melancholic than the last. Now as she observes this man, barely older than herself, she ponders what his story could entail. It was then, Marinette realizes that no file could tell her everything she needs to know. Birthdates meant nothing; truthfully, she didn’t know Adrien Agreste at all.

“Adrien,” it felt strange, his name coming from her lips, “I-” A sudden rapping at the door interrupts, her voice becoming lost to the knock. It draws the duo’s attention away from their initial debate.

“Who’s-” Adrien begins, but his vocal cords ceases to function when the door opens as a familiar face comes to view, and as he makes eye , his face turns stark white at the sight of the unmistakable gold as honey color.

***

Ah, so many questions and not enough answers teehee, I loved writing snarky Adrien - this side of him isn’t really captured in the show as much as I would have liked, but you can’t please everybody lol

BTW HAVE YOU GUYS WATCHED THE NEW EPISODES OF S3 YET?! I JUST CAUGHT UP AND I AM CRYING :joy:

What a fun chapter this was to write, fanfic writing is always a huge stress-reliever for me, y’all can prob see I was having WAAAYY too much fun haha

And yes, cliffhanger again! Are you really surprised tho? I’m sorry, please spare me your wrath: feel more than free to theorize in the comments tho, cause this story’s gonna be one heck of a ride haha :joy: :pray:

Next post will be chapter six of my Naruto AU! :heartpulse:

Until next time!

- :crown: PrettyQueen :crown: