Chapter Twenty Three

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Warnings for the chapter:  some language, a few mentions of racial slurs, maybe some violence--like a beating, blood, and fists, ya know? 

Song of the day: 505 by Arctic Monkeys

words: 1217

Buzzt!

Buzzt!

Buzzt!

In the bedroom of Luka Couffaine, his cellular device had an incoming call. Given it was in the middle of the night and the rocker boy was dead asleep, the phone annoyingly vibrated on the nightstand's surface, its screen lighting up a small portion of the darkened room. Like a relentless itch, the vibrating became more and more annoying.

". . .hells that?" Luka's face was half stuffed in his pillow, his eyes struggling to stay even ajar as he glares at the interruption of his precious sleep.

Begrudgingly, he forced his arm out from under his body, the limb having been pinned under his weight for the whole. His fingers numbly grasped the phone, almost dropping it when retrieving it. He murmured tiredly under his breath, cursing the person who had the gall to call in the middle of the fricking night. 

Whoever it was, they're getting cursed the fuck out. Like, fricking seriously. Who calls in the middle of the damn night, anyway?

Sitting up, the boy squints at his phone screen, a foul mood already forming. It all disappeared when he sees the caller ID. Confusion overwhelmed the foul lingering inside and his brows knit together.

"Hello?"

.

.

.

The air is cold tonight.

Luka's breath came out in white miniature puffs of clouds. The streets of Paris were dimly lit by the lamps at every other corner. Even with his pre-winter coat and gloves, the boy still shivered. Well, given that his gloves were on the wrong hands and his coat wasn't zipped up, yeah, he'd be cold. He'd dressed quickly, he hadn't the time to be picky about outfits.

His bike wheels silently screech against the park's sidewalk. Luka practically threw his mode of transportation down and hurried toward the fountain. His sneakers pounding against the ground all the way. 

The park was empty, and still. An eery kind of stillness. It was the kind of stillness that would send someone flying for the hills, a haunting feel. It made him feel like someone was just gonna pop out and attack him or something.

And he had taken off his Miraculous to shower before bed, so if he were to get attacked, he'd be powerless against any Akumas. Well, not completely thanks to his early years of some Tae Kwon Do.

"Marinette?" He called out, peering warily at his surroundings. 

A swing from the playground makes a squeaking sound, but no one was on one. Luka stood before the fountain, his shoulders tense as he keeps his guard up. He didn't want to run into any surprises, especially after receiving that frantic phone call. 

Marinette sounded very disoriented, and not like herself. The second she said she was in a jam, the line got all static. He barely made out her location when the line went dead. With so little information in a such short call. Yeah, it'd freak someone the fuck out, especially when they're half asleep. 

Not exactly a good combination.

Footsteps approach Luka from around the fountain and the blood rushed to his ears. The anxiety broke his breath into hitched pants, and the thin air wasn't helping much.

"Marinette--!" Luka looks toward the figure that had appeared, but it wasn't Marinette.

Lila Rossi sashayed slyly, waggling a phone in her palm; Marinette's phone, to be exact. An empty apologetic smile gracing her lips. She was decked out in an expensive orange coat that hugged her figure.

"Whoopsies, " She said bittersweetly, yet also in an amusing way. "Did I call from that chink's number? Aw, that's totally my bad~"

Forget anything he felt just then. Part of him felt relief, knowing Marinette wasn't hurt. The other part of him had this increasing nag that Lila was up to no good. Anger fueled through his veins. Did she just call Marinette chink? What the hell is wrong with her!?!

Standing tall, Luka stared directly at her. Her presence filled him with fury. He didn't want to be here, and to think he was tricked! She must've figured out he liked the Dupain-Cheng girl. Nothing made sense, like, at all! Why was she going through all this trouble?

"Lila Rossi." 

The brunette cocked her hip and tilted her head. "You remembered me, that's good!"

"Unfortunately, " Luka said, stepping back to keep distance between them. "Why do you have Marinette's phone?"

"That's none of your business, although, I do want to send her a message, " Lila suddenly snaps her fingers and two men in suits appear seemingly out of nowhere. "It's nothing personal, I just really hate that bitch."

The men were massive. When he says massive, they're massive. Not just massive, colossal. They looked like could take a grizzly bear down with their bare hands. He couldn't tell them apart, both being identical, their physical appearance, that is.

"Watch your mouth—" Luka growls out only to be seized by one of the men, his fist connecting with Luka's jaw.

The impact was so great, Luka staggered back several feet, clutching his jaw, now glaring at the men. The pain tore through his skull, his teeth rattling, his brain bouncing against the walls of his cranium. It took everything in him to not keel over from that hit. He could taste metallic on his tongue and he wiped over his mouth. Red smeared on the back of his hand. His nose and mouth throbbed excruciatingly. 

"Tut, tut, " Lila shook her head. "She always manages to get in my way. It's really frustrating how everyone dotes on her. Don't worry too much, she'll get what's coming to her soon enough."

Even his vision wavered for a second there. He shakes it off to keep focused on the giant forms of muscled men approaching him with deadly intent. He happened to freeze, knees locked and refusing to move.

"Just rough him up a bit, boys, " Lila smugly looked toward Luka, backing away to leave. "Don't kill him."

Luka spits a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the pavement, unable to speak. He lunges at one of the men, preparing to deck him in the torso or jugular, but as if the man predicted his moves, he swiftly retaliated.

He's barely able to comprehend when he's struck again, the fist colliding with his stomach. Luka practically folded over as the air is literally knocked out of him, organs screaming out at the impact. No time is wasted when a knee smashes against his face, throwing him back onto the ground, clutching his gushing nose.

Ringed fists land relentless hits all over his body.

AND SCENE.

Sorry to create such violence.

But BAM!

Lila Rossi is a ruthless teenager with deep pockets and surprisingly bodybuilder torturers at her beck and call!

Like, dude, I don't know about you, but someone seriously added shit in my spice gumbo. You wouldn't happen to know who that might be, would you?

Say, anyway, comment, vote, and, well, you know the rest! As always, I'll see ya in the next chapter~!

Love you guys, don't hate me!

~Brittany





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