Chapter Text
Paris, France.
Picture-perfect. The blue sky, with not a single cloud in sight. The sun was going to be shining, and the temperature was going to be perfect!
That was what Christophe Deniaud, the weatherman for TVi, had told in the morning. 'A fantastic day for a walk,' the man spoke with a smile, his perfect teeth on full display. The lie he uttered slipped out, smooth and easy like melted butter running down toast. You could almost forgive the man when clouds started to cover the sky.
Almost.
Once it started raining, any goodwill the man had vanished as people started running indoors. The downpour was heavy. The drops struck the ground, hitting the surface like they were bullets from above. Men, women, and children ran. People ran to try and find shelter from the downpour.
Tourists were being pushed back onto buses. Few returned inside the Musée du Louvre and the Pyramide du Louvre to escape the rain. Young couples ducked in cafés, mothers dragged their children to cars, and those with nowhere else to go ran back home.
As a result, the streets were mostly empty, save for the few stragglers running to find shelter. One teen, in particular, stood out as she ran across the empty sidewalk.
Mostly because she nearly slipped on the wet pavement in an almost comical manner with every other step she took.
The teen running down the streets of Paris was rather short, so short she almost appeared younger than she was. Her hairstyle added to this, as she tied it into two short pigtails.
Her hair, wet from the rain, was so dark that it tricked a person's eyes into seeing blue highlights.
This was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
She, like many today, had taken Deniaud's advice and had gone for a walk. She wanted to walk down the street under the sun, maybe sit on the steps of Trocadéro and view the Eiffel Tower.
She didn't expect it to rain, much like many of Paris today. As such, she hadn't taken an umbrella.
When the downpour started, she, like the rest of Paris, had no protection against getting utterly drenched. She wasn’t the most graceful, so as she began to run, she stumbled, tripping over her first few steps and splashing herself with dirty water.
Her blazer offered little protection, as did the newspaper that she had to use as an impromptu umbrella—It was barely enough to shield her from the rain. Her white T-shirt, now thoroughly soaked, and clung to her skin, the small black flower design below the collar was now no longer visible thanks to the wet grime.
She had spent hours designing the shirt, sketching and refining every detail over countless visits to the Trocadéro—her favorite spot for inspiration. It had taken weeks to get it just right, and today was supposed to be the first time she wore it out.
Now it was soaked!
She hadn’t even made it halfway to her destination before the skies opened up, drenching her in seconds. Now, she was racing home, her footsteps splashing through puddles as she muttered under her breath, 'Just a few more minutes… just a few more minutes,' clinging to the hope that soon she’d be home—dry, warm, and not looking like she’d lost a fight with a swimming pool.
Once home, maybe she could unwind with a round of Ultimate Mecha Strike III . At least that wouldn’t be ruined by the rain.
All she had to do was turn the corner, sprint down the alley, and then take a left. Just one more corner, and she’d be in the home stretch. She could almost see the rooftop of her family's bakery in the distance. But as she rounded the corner, her foot slipped, and she felt herself lurch forward, barely catching her balance before she toppled into yet another puddle. With a groan, she pushed herself forward, determined. Just a little farther, and then—
'Ughhhhh' A small quiet sound came from the alleyway that she had just passed on her right. She almost thought that it was just her imagination.
That is until she heard it again.
"Nnghhh..." A soft weak groan that was just barely audible, despite the heavy rain. It sounded faint, like the old broken speaker her father used to use.
Slowly, Marinette turned around and walked toward the sound she’d just heard
Maybe some cat had gotten hurt? Or a dog? She read that some animals have been mysteriously getting hurt as of late. It would be so awful to leave the poor thing out in the rain if it's hurt.
As she neared the mouth of the alleyway, the soft, weak groan sounded again, clearer this time and tugging her forward.
The alleyway stretched ahead of her, straight as a sewing needle and nearly as narrow. Marinette could have easily stretched her hands out and touched both buildings. With how dark and damp it looked, the alleyway looked like it came straight out of a cloaustrophobe’s nightmare.
With a steadying breath, Marinette took a deep breath and stepped into the narrow alleyway. Whatever was making those sounds… she couldn’t leave it out here, hurt and alone in the rain.
Whatever she was expecting, this wasnt it at all
As she looked ahead, she froze, completely caught off guard by what she saw. She gasped, eyes widening in shock.
Sprawled on the ground amidst scattered shards of broken glass… was a man. He wore a long, expensive brown coat—something that she would have seen from Gabriel or Hermès . The coat, once pristine, was now drenched and clung to him, smeared with mud and grime.
His breaths came rapid and shallow, yet despite the obvious pain, he was still moving.
He crawled forward, inch by inch, dragging himself with his right hand while his left clutched something tightly. His face brushed against the ground, his eyes unfocused, not even looking where he was going. Behind him, a trail of dark liquid marked his path as he struggled on.
"Oh my god!" Marinette exclaimed as she ran to the man. The closer Marinette came to the injured man, the worse he looked.
His fingers were swollen, almost looking like fat sausages. Grime and.. what she can see as blood nearly blackened his bloated fingers, his fingernails were either chipped or covered black from grime.
Marinette's heart raced, each beat thudding painfully in her chest as she knelt beside the injured man. Her hands were trembling as she reached out, desperate to help him.
Sensing someone close by, the man slowly lifted his head, his movements sluggish and pained. His face was a mess of dark bruises and swollen welts, each one distorting his features in a way that made him barely recognizable. The swelling was so severe it pushed certain parts of his face out of shape, like a squashed lemon, with one eye nearly swollen shut.
His one visible eye widened in alarm as he took in Marinette’s presence. He flinched back from her, as though she were a rabid dog.
"Sir?!W-what happened?! Are you hurt?!" Marinette asked, instantly regretting the question the moment she asked it. He was clearly in immense pain, and here she was blurting out something so thoughtless and dumb.
".. move ," the man whimpered in English, struggling to push past her. As he shifted, his left hand slid under his body, and Marinette caught a faint shimmer beneath his fingers.
"Gotta....move," he muttered again. Every movement he made looked like it felt like complete agony to him.
Marinette was breathing heavily as she looked down. What was she supposed to do? She had never taken a first aid class, not a single one. She was alone, didn't even know the first thing to do in this situation.
She couldn't even see anyone she could call for help!
'Wait…. What am I doing?!'
In her frantic haste, Marinette nearly tore her purse open as she fumbled for her phone. She was in such a panicked rush, that when she finally found it, the phone almost comically slipped from her hands.
After catching it finally, her fingers fumbled across the screen as she quickly dialed the emergency number. The rain drenched her phone as she waited. For three agonizing seconds, Marinette waited, watching the injured man crawl. Then she heard it.
"This is a one-one-two operator. What is your emergency?" a soft voice spoke.
"I have a medical emergency! There’s a man—he’s hurt, badly—I’m not sure what happened. We’re in the middle of an alley… please, he needs help, fast!" Marinette blurted out. Her attention was still on the crawling man.
He lay there, his breaths shallow and unsteady, his hand still clutching something close to his body. She couldn’t tell if he was conscious or fading, but the faint glimmer beneath his fingers caught her eye again. She wasn’t sure what it was—a piece of jewelry, maybe?—but it seemed important to him, judging by how tightly he gripped it, even in his weakened state.
"I am at an alleyway just behind Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, on 12 Rue Gotlib, 21st arrondissement!" she exclaimed, as she moved closer to the man.
"Please remain calm, an ambulance is on the way," the woman responded. Her clam voice put Marinette a little at ease. She and the man were closer to the mouth of the alleyway. She could see the empty street and sidewalk.
“Help is coming, just… hold on, okay?” she whispered to the injured man, trying to make the man stop. She knelt slightly in front of the man again. The man tried to crawl around her, but the pain must have finally set in as his hand finally gave in.
With a pained groan, the man collapsed fully onto the ground, his body sprawled out and too exhausted to keep moving. Marinette edged closer, her mind racing as she tried to think of anything—anything at all—that she could do to help.
She saw it then, what the man was so desperately clinging to.
There, clutched in the man's left hand, was a bizarre and intricately crafted arrow, its golden head glistening with an almost ethereal sheen despite the rain. The arrow head was made of gold, but not a dull gold—this was rich, polished, and gleaming, and shaped like that of a beetle.
It looked insanely sharp, she was sure that even touching it would result in a cut on her finger
The man’s eyes flickered to her as he noticed her gaze on the arrow. Immediately, he jerked his hand, trying to hide it, his face twisted with distrust.
“Move!” he rasped, his voice hoarse but sharp, as though he suspected her of trying to take it from him. His tone was loud enough that the emergency operator on the other end of the line might have even heard it.
"Please, don't move away from your location," the operator spoke, her voice still calm.
"D-don't worry, an ambulance is on the way, mister," she repeated the instruction. The phone was still in her hand as she tried to calm the man.
".. How unfortunate ," a deep voice called out, spooking Marinette. She looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she searched for the source of the voice.
At the far end of the alley stood a lone figure, his presence imposing. The man was tall—easily a head higher than most people Marinette had encountered—and his frame was solid, the kind of bulk that could only be possible if you spent years at the gym. He looked to be in his early twenties, with short, messy black hair that framed his sharp features.
His three-piece suit was dark, which looked both absurdly fashionable and completely out of place for the weather.
Its tailored fit made him look like he’d stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. The suit’s deep charcoal color was punctuated by sharp, angular cuts that made the tailoring look more like art than clothing. The jacket was cropped at an unusual angle, its lapels exaggerated and sharply pointed, while the vest beneath it had a high collar and intricate stitching, adding an almost regal touch. His trousers were slightly tapered and ended just above his shoes.
The only piece of color that Marinette could see was his golden ring, which was gleaming brightly, almost as though it had its own light.
His eyes flickered between her and the injured man on the ground, and though she couldn’t see his expression clearly due to the shadows, Marinette could strangely almost feel the frown on his face.
The man stood there for a few moments… before he slowly made his way towards the two of them. He walked with a limp..favoring his right leg more than his left leg.
Marinette let out a quiet sigh of relief as she watched the man approach. She wasn’t alone anymore, someone must have seen her and decided to help out.
“Run, girl!” the man on the ground practically shouted, his hand pushing at Marinette’s chest with urgency.
“W-what—?” Marinette started to say, but before she could finish, she felt it—a sudden, crushing impact, like a sledgehammer slamming into the center of her torso.
She hadn’t heard a sound, not even a whisper. All she could hear at that moment were the soft splashes of rain as it pelted her skin. But she felt it—some invisible force hit her with terrifying power, sending both her and the injured man hurtling through the air.
Her body was sent careening through the air. She couldn’t scream or even process what had just happened; everything was a blur. She didn’t feel it when her back collided with the building wall or when her head bounced sharply off it. Then—suddenly—an unimaginable pain erupted from her stomach, a pain so great she couldn't even scream as she slid down the wall, her vision turning hazy from the impact.
She came to the gradual realization that she was on the ground, her impromptu flight ending without her knowledge. Slowly, her eyes began to refocus, and she was able to see again.
A few meters away from her lay the man who she had tired to help. The man was on his back, writhing in pain. He was clutching his arm in agony.
"Oh? Still able to move?" a distant voice announced. The stranger was walking towards them. Slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.
"Had enough energy in you… and you wasted it saving a useless nobody ," The stranger spoke, his face obscured. Marinette was in too much pain to concentrate on most of his words.
The pain in her stomach throbbed relentlessly, refusing to subside. Slowly and agonizingly, Marinette glanced down. Her once white t-shirt was now stained with red, the deep crimson spreading along her side.
There, embedded in the center of her stomach, was the golden arrow. The realization hit her just as the pain surged, an agonizing wave exploding from her abdomen. She tried to scream… but all she could manage was a weak cry.
‘H-help! Pl-please… Mom… Dad!’ Her thoughts were frantic and delirious as she clutched her stomach, trying to hold herself together. A sickening crunch sounded nearby, and she realized, with dread, that the man on the ground had gone completely silent.
The stranger turned and took a step towards Marinette, ignoring the unresponsive man on the ground. He stood a few meters away from her, his shadow looming over her. He stopped a few meters away, his shadow stretching over her as he looked directly at her. Through the haze of pain, she struggled to make out his face.
After a long, agonizing ten seconds, which felt like an eternity, he finally spoke again.
"To be expected, I suppose. Not everyone is worthy," he murmured, his tone laced with disappointment, as though she had somehow let him down.
Then, The Stranger reached toward her. A wave of terror surged through her, paralyzing her in place. Every fiber of her being screamed to move, to escape. His hand closed around the arrow, and she instinctively tried to pull herself back, desperate to get away from him, to reach the safety of the open street—anywhere he couldn’t follow.
Just somewhere where this man couldn't hurt her.
Without warning, he twisted and pulled. Skin tore as he ripped the arrow from Marinette's stomach. A wave of fresh pain suddenly washed over her, as blood started to gush from her now open wound.
A scream, deep within her, forces its way out of her mouth. Marinette had never screamed as hard as she did, her voice almost breaking. She tried to cover her wound, using nothing but her hands.
The stranger didn't acknowledge her, as if she no longer existed to him anymore. His gaze, squarely on the arrow, checking to see if it was damaged.
Marinette still clutched her open wound. Oblivious to the stranger's words and actions any longer. A faint ringing was coming closer to her. Without a word, the stranger just walked away. Her vision began to fade again. The last thing she saw was blurred shapes, coming closer to her.
The soft murmur of the hospital surrounded them—distant voices, the shuffle of footsteps, and the occasional beep of a pager on a doctor or nurse. The sounds were muted yet constant, filling the silence like a slow, steady pulse.
But out of all the noise, the noise from the old clock that hung in the waiting room had been the most prominent. It was not loud, but it was impossible to ignore. Its black hands drifted towards the hour. Every second felt like a minute, and every minute felt like an hour. It was nerve-wracking.
Tom Dupain sat in the waiting room of the hospital, his hands holding onto his wife’s, Sabine Cheng. The two of them had arrived at the hospital almost two hours ago, breaking almost every traffic law imaginable to reach as fast as possible.
Now, they sat in silence, each lost in quiet prayers and hopes that their daughter would be safe.
His daughter was still in surgery. The image felt wrong to him—his little girl, lying on a sterile operating table, surrounded by strangers in masks. The thought made Tom’s stomach churn, making his hands tremble as he sat, helpless.
He had no control here, no way to protect her, and the feeling was almost unbearable.
Two hours ago, he and his wife had received the call, just as they had wondered where their precious daughter was. Sabine had dropped the phone in shock when she heard that her daughter was in the emergency room.
The two of them left immediately after, not even bothering to lock up the shop. Tom gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, as he raced to the hospital. When they arrived at the hospital, he had nearly barged into the emergency room, trying to find his daughter.
It took a few doctors to gently guide him and Sabine to the waiting room. There, they sat in tense silence, clinging to each other as the minutes dragged on. The two of them would occasionally be comforted by a nurse if possible.
After some time, the doors opened and a man came out.
The doctor stopped in front of them, his expression tired, hands clasped onto the clipboard. Tom felt Sabine’s grip tighten around his, her fingers digging into his hand as if anchoring herself. Tom held his breath, his heart hammering in his chest.
It was like there was a two ton weight on his chest, and it only became heavier the longer the doctor was quiet.
After a moment, the doctor cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng,” he began, his voice calm but carrying the weight of what he was about to say. “Your daughter…” He paused, glancing down before meeting their eyes again. “She made it through the surgery. She’s stable, but…”
Tom felt his heart leap, the weight on his chest felt like it almost doubled, he braced himself for what the doctor would say.
“She sustained significant injuries to her stomach and large intestine, her recovery will take time,” the doctor continued. “There’s a lot we’ll need to monitor, and there may be some challenges ahead, but right now, she’s resting..”
Sabine let out a shaky breath, fresh tears filled her eyes. Tom felt his own eyes sting as a wave of relief washed over him.
His baby girl will be ok.. She will be safe
He squeezed Sabine’s hand, feeling a faint glimmer of hope and a sense of ease wash over him as he listened to the doctor’s words. For the first time since they had arrived, there was a break in the heavy tension pressing down on his chest.
“Can we see her?” Tom asked, his voice barely a whisper.
The doctor nodded. “Yes, but only for a few minutes. She’s still very weak” he said as he gave the clipboard to the nurse, and in a few moments he took both Tom and Sabine to see their daughter.
The world around them seemed distant, the sounds and lights blurring as they neared their daughter’s room. They would get to see their daughter again, but the feeling of pain never left the two as they followed the nurse to their daughter's room.
As they reached the door to her room, the doctor paused and gave them a sympathetic look. "She’s heavily sedated, and there’s still some uncertainty about her condition, so she won't be responsive yet”
Tom swallowed a lump, but nodded as did his wife.
The doctor opened the door and both mother and father stepped inside, Sabine fighting back tears at what she saw..
There inside the room, sleeping on the hospital bed, was their daughter Marinette.
Tom’is eyes immediately find his daughter, lying motionless in the bed. Her pale face was bruised, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and some bandages, the steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound that broke the stillness.
It felt so wrong.
Seeing Marinette on that bed, her blue eyes closed instead of open. Her hair, not tied into pigtails. A blood bag hooked to her arm. She looked so different from how she looked in the morning.
It was all wrong.
'She shouldn't be here ' was all Tom could think as he saw her daughter. Both he and his wife were at their daughter's side. He felt his chest tighten once more as he saw her.
Five hours ago, Marinette was at home with them. She was smiling and laughing at how he tossed the dough into the air, helping her mother around the house, and just being there for them.
And now she was here, on this bed.
Sabine choked back a sob as she looked at her unconscious daughter. A police officer had spoken to the two of them while they were in the waiting room, telling the two of them what had happened.
Marinette was on her way back from the Trocadéro when she came upon an injured man in some alleway. She had then stopped near the man and called for an ambulance, hoping to help the poor soul.
The operator was still on the phone when everything changed. Some thug had appeared out of nowhere,attacking her, and then fleeing just as quickly as he had come. The operator had heard the man’s muffled voice and the sudden violence, but by the time she could do anything, he was gone.
The paramedics arrived just in time to save her, rushing her to the hospital. Though they managed to stabilize her, the man Marinette had tried to help wasn’t so fortunate—he hadn’t survived.
The police were on the hunt for the man. But he knew that it would be hard for them to find anything thanks to the rain.
The thought of the animal that did this to his daughter getting away infuriated Tom, but right now, he had to be there for his family.
The doctor said that Marinette would recover. It still hurt them to see their daughter on that bed.
"Don't worry, Marinette... the police will find the guy who did this," Tom spoke, holding his daughter's hand. The soft beep of the heart monitor was the only response he heard. They could not hold back the tears anymore. The two of them sat by their daughter's side and wept.
Marinette remained unconscious for the rest of that first day, her parents by her side, keeping vigil. It wasn’t until her second day in the hospital that she finally opened her eyes, and as soon as she did, her parents almost suffocated her in a hug. Her body was still weak, as it was trying to recover from all the blood that was lost, but to her parents it didn’t matter.
She spent the rest of the day in bed, listening as her parents gently recounted what had happened to her, as well as feeding her and making sure she was as comfortable as possible..
The next day the police had come to visit her. They had wanted to ask her some questions regarding the event. She only had a partial recollection of the events, but she explained the best she could.
With her parents by her side, she recounted what she could. She described finding the injured man, her calling for help, and then the arrival of the stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
The officers listened closely, occasionally nodding and jotting down notes as she spoke. They thanked her, assuring her that any detail could be helpful, even if it seemed small.
“Well..there is something” Marinette said as she shifted in her seat, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she spoke. "I... I know it sounds odd, but what I remember the most was his suit," she said, her voice a little sheepish. "I mean, I don’t remember seeing his face that well, but the suit—" She fumbled for the words, glancing down at her hands. "It was really, um, well-tailored. Dark, almost black, but not quite. It had this... angular cuts in its design.” she said as she tried her best to describe it.
“A Fancy suit? Is that all you can remember,” a female officer asked as she wrote down Marinette’s words. Her partner gave her a look, but hadn't made any other comment.
"He looked... out of place? Like, he didn’t belong there. And before I even understood what was happening or focus on his face, he attacked us," she said, it was a bit embarrassing to admit that she could only remember his amazing suit. But that was the truth.
“Do you remember the weapon he used?” one had asked as they looked at her. She shook her head.
"It was like this force—no noise, no warning—just something hitting me so hard it threw me off my feet. I couldn’t even breathe; I was just… tossed aside like I was nothing." she said.
“Force? From our reports, you had a cut across your stomach,” The female officer responded, her tone wasn’t trying to sound accusatory… but it did make her feel slightly uncomfortable. She felt a knot in her stomach form.
“That was something else..” She said as she took a deep breath, "I remember seeing the injured man trying to shield this arrow—a golden arrow that looked ancient, with engravings and a pointed tip that caught the light… It kind of looked like a beetle" She glanced up, embarrassed at the strange detail but continued anyway. "The man I was trying to help… he was holding onto it so tightly, like it was the only thing he had left. And the stranger—he kept staring at it, like that was all he cared about.”
“When me and that injured man were hit... that Arrow was what stabbed me in the stomach,” she said as her eyes flickered over her own stomach. The image of that arrow buried deep in her stomach burned in her head.
“So it was an accident?” the officer asked, and that knot in Marinette’s stomach only grew as she felt the officer asked the question.
“N-no… that’s not what I said,” Marinette stammered, trying to clarify. “When the arrow was in my stomach, the man came over… and pulled it out,” she explained, her voice trembling. “The last thing I remember was him pulling it out and walking away while I was lying there on the floor.”
“Could he have been trying to help you?” the female officer asked, and the knot in Marinette only grew. She held the sheets tightly as she tried to calm her nerves down.
“I-”
“My daughter was hurt by this… this animal, and you’re trying to downplay what he did to her?” Marinette’s father cut in coldly, placing a protective hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
The male officer cleared his throat, offering an apologetic glance. “I apologize for my partner. What she meant to ask was, ‘Did this man do it knowing he could hurt you?’” His voice was softer, though her parent’s angry gazes remained unyielding.
“No,” Marinette said quietly, her face pale. “I’m sure he didn’t care about helping… especially since… he killed that other man before taking the arrow.”
“Did you actually see him do this?” the female officer asked, leaning forward.
“Well… no, not exactly—” Marinette began, faltering.
“So then how can you be certain this well-dressed assailant is the one who killed the injured man?” the officer pressed and Marinette looked at her with a slight frown.
“Because… I heard him screaming,” Marinette replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “And then there was this… horrible, crunching sound, like something breaking. After that… he went completely silent. He just… stopped moving.”
There was a slight silence, before the officer noted down what was said.
The male officer closed his notepad with a quiet snap, and slipped it into his brest pocket as he gave Marinette a small nod. “Thank you for your time, Miss Dupain-Cheng. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” His tone was kind, and comforting.
The female officer glanced at her partner, then at Marinette’s parents. “If you remember anything else, no matter how small, please don’t hesitate to let us know.” Her voice was professional, but they responded with only a slight glare.
Tom stood as the two walked to the door. Their movements were brisk, as if they wanted to be anywhere else other than in the hospital room. Sabine remained by Marinette’s side, her hand protectively on her daughter’s arm.
The officers paused at the door, the male officer offering a polite, “We’re sorry this happened to your family. We’ll do everything we can to find out who’s responsible.”
Her father simply nodded, his jaw tight. “Thank you.”
The door clicked shut softly behind them, leaving the room heavy with silence. Sabine exhaled shakily and looked down at Marinette, brushing her hair gently from her face. “It’s over now, sweetheart. Just rest,” she whispered.
Marinette nodded as she slowly lay back down on the hospital bed, it was as if an overwhelming heaviness settled over her. The adrenaline that had kept her upright during the officer’s questioning and recounting the incident had drained away.
She felt so utterly spent.
Her head sank back against the pillow, and her eyelids grew unbearably heavy. Sabine noticed immediately, her protective hand still resting on her daughter’s arm. “Marinette? Are you all right, dear?” she asked softly, leaning closer.
Her mothers hand moved to Marinette’s forehead, and a look of concern crossed Sabine’s face. “You’re burning up dear” she said in concern.
“Mhm… just... tired,” Marinette murmured, her words slurring as the pull of sleep grew stronger. Her body ached, and her mind felt like it was wading through a thick fog. She blinked up at her mother, but even that small effort seemed like too much.
Then.. she felt something shift in the room.
A strange sensation crept up her spine, making her skin crawl. Like the knot in her stomach was worming its way through her body and up her spine.
Her breathing hitched, and she forced her eyes open. The room seemed darker than before, her parent’s forms becoming more and more hazy. The shadows on the walls were stretching and shifting unnaturally. Her heart began to race as her gaze darted around the room.
And then she saw something that made her heart stop.
Near the right corner of the room, just past her parent’s seated forms, a shadowy pink figure formed. Its shape was blurry and undefine. She couldn't make out any features on it, whether it was a man or woman..human or not.
Yet, one thing was certain.
It was looking right at her.
Her breathing had become much harder, she tried to move her head. But her body was so weak that she couldn't even summon the strength to turn her head. Marinette froze, her throat tightening as her mind screamed for her to call out. But she couldn’t. Her voice was trapped, her body paralyzed by fear. All she could do was watch.
Watch as it glided silently, its movements were fluid. Moving across the room with surprising ease and grace, and right towards the door.
“Wh..” She tried to get her parent’s attention on the thing walking behind them. But, it was as if they couldn't even register what was happening just behind them.
Before she could finish warning them, the figure slipped through the door, vanishing into the hallway without a sound. The faint creak of the door settling back into place was the only indication that it had ever moved.
Marinette blinked rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her eyes darted to her parents, who were watching over her with a look of concern, unaware of the silent invader. The room returned to normal, and the feeling in her spine had subsided. But the fear lingered, settling deep in her chest.
Had she imagined it? A hallucination from exhaustion? Or had the figure truly been there? If it was real…then what did it want?
It looked angry, but somehow.. she knew that this thing wasn't angry at her at all.
So why… did she feel that someone was going to get hurt.?
Out in the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickered as the two officers walked side by side, their steps echoing faintly against the tiled floor. The two of them side-stepping some nurses, doctors and even a few patients moving about.
While Officer Talbot Beaudoin did not mind bumping into a patient, Officer Jeanette Paquin had seemed almost repulsed at accidentally touching a sick old man. So much so that she had stopped walking and began wiping the hand that was touched with a cloth.
"Honestly, this whole thing feels off," she muttered, her tone clipped. "A kid out in the rain, ‘helping’ some stranger? And now she’s spinning tales about shadowy men in fancy suits and antique arrows? Give me a break." She scoffed, shaking her head.
"You ask me, the girl probably got herself into some mess she shouldn’t have.” She said as she looked at her partner.
Officer Talbot, frowned, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "You don’t think she’s lying, do you? She’s a kid, Jeanette. She just survived a traumatic experience—got impaled, for God’s sake. Maybe she’s confused, but I don’t think she’s lied to us at all."
“Or maybe she saw a guy dead in the alleway, tried to rob his corpse and now she’s too scared to admit it." Officer Jeanette said as she looked to her side, and then veered off toward a vending machine nestled against the wall. Talbot stopped, watching her with a raised brow as she rifled through her pocket for some change.
"Really? Now?" he asked, crossing his arms.
Jeanette didn’t even glance his way. "What? I’m thirsty," she replied, her tone flippant. She slipped a coin into the slot, her gaze scanning the options before she hit the button for a Sprite. The machine hummed for a moment before the can clattered into the bottom compartment.
She bent down to retrieve it, popping the tab open with a sharp hiss. Taking a long sip, she let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back against the vending machine. "Look Talbot, I get it. You think the kid’s sob story could be real, but let’s not waste time chasing ghosts."
“God sake Jeanette! Kid’s got no record of being a criminal. What makes you think she is some thug?” Talbot said as he looked at her aghast.
Jeanette rolled her eyes as she looked at her partner “Come on, Talbot. A 'well-dressed man' conveniently comes and attacks the two and then vanishes into the rain? after supposedly stealing an antique arrow? Sounds more like a story to cover for something else.” she argued as she took a sip.
“It's more likely she robbed a dying man and he woke up before she could run away." she continued
Talbot sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked at her. He lowered his voice, his expression firm. "Jesus Jeanette, you have no proof of any of this, who would rob a dying man?” he said in a tight voice as he looked at her sternly.
“You say that, but we just had three other cases of exactly that.” she countered, causing Talbot to wince slightly.
There were three deaths that were reported during that rainy day, all victims were robbed of all their valuables before death. The department had found some of the stolen valuables, but the killers and the thieves were not caught.
This was the fourth death that occurred during that day.
“Even if you’re right, and that she is not being a hundred percent truthful about what had happened,” he said as he looked at her, “It doesn't mean that she robbed him, and dismissing her outright doesn’t help anyone. She’s scared, Jeanette. Hurt. Maybe there’s some truth to what she’s saying, even if it sounds crazy. And if there’s a chance that man is still out there— then we need to take it seriously."
She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Fine," she said with a shrug, though her skeptical tone remained. "But I’m telling you, we’ll probably find out she robbed this guy and this arrow is just a bunch of nonsense"
Talbot’s jaw tightened, but he let it go. "Let’s just do our jobs and leave the judging for later," he said, his voice tinged with frustration at the short woman.
“Let me finish my Sprite first,” she said as she stood in front of the vending machine. There was a faint sound, metal creaking and moving. The vending machine behind her gave a subtle shake. It wobbled slightly on its base, a faint creak going unnoticed amid their conversation.
Jeanette finished her drink and tossed the empty can toward the recycling bin. It missed, clattering to the floor. She would have ignored it and walked away.. If it wasn't for her partner’s disapproving scowl judging her for littering
With an annoyed sigh, she bent down to pick it up, turning her back to the vending machine.
“I don’t know why you care so much about recycling, the Mayor’s just gonna ship it to some third world shit ho-”
“Janette look out!!!” his voice cutting her off, startling her.
She blinked and looked behind her… just in time to see the massive metal structure tilting towards her. A loud groaning sound could be heard.. As the three hundred and eighty kilogram machine toppled over her.
She screamed.. But it was too late.
A thunderous crash echoed through the hallway following her scream, as the full weight of the vending machine slammed onto Jeanette, pinning her to the ground. A sickening crunch filled the air as she let out a strangled scream, her body crumpling under the immense force. The empty can of Sprite rolled out of her hand.
“Jeanette!!” Talbot screamed as he rushed to help her, Doctors and Nurses rushed over to help the officer. In just a few moments pandemonium had erupted as one by one men and women rushed to make sure the officer had not died.
It would take them a few moments to lift the weight off the woman.. And it was due to divine luck that her head was not split open.
The nurses and doctors rush her to a room to assess damage, while Talbot could only alternate between concern for her partner and righteous indignation at the hospital for such a horrendous job at fixing this machine.
No one had seen how the machine had toppled, not the doctors, not the officer and not even any patients that were in the hallway. Even the security cameras showed nothing. To the world it just looked as if it fell on her by itself.
No one had seen a pink blur push the machine over the officer.
For the next two weeks, Marinette stayed in the hospital. Her parents had stayed with her for the whole two weeks, occasionally informing her of the outside world.
Some of her classmates showed their support as well—Nino and Kim visited her, while others sent thoughtful "Get Well Soon" cards. She thought they were messing with her when they said Paris had real-life superheroes and villains. That changed when she had seen the news and saw the heroes in action, stopping a high-speed bus that had gone out of control.
Her stay at the hospital was not without complications. Initially, the doctors were confident in her recovery, that she would be fit and able to return home in just a few days.
But then, she developed a high fever, and the doctor's confidence in her recovery shook. They ran test after test and administered different antibiotics. But it only had marginal success.
She would drift in and out of consciousness during the days. As time passed, she began experiencing hallucinations during the rare times she was lucid. Marinette spoke of seeing things that weren’t there, shadowy figures right behind the doctors and her parents. The doctors feared the worst—a severe infection, perhaps neurological damage. Her parents could do nothing but wait, hearts heavy with dread.
Then a miracle occurred. Marinette slowly got better. It baffled the doctors, but Tom and Sabine were ecstatic at seeing their daughter finally improve.
In almost three weeks, she fully recovered. The arrow did not even leave a single scar on her body, confusing doctors even more. And so she spent her final day at the hospital.
Finally free, to come back home.
She and her parents left the hospital with a smile on their face.
No one saw it, not the doctors, not the patients, not her parents, not even Marinette herself. No one saw a transparent person walking slightly behind Marinette.