05 | the bandit himself

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"In the days of the desperate, desperation will rise."

— Forbidden Fruits

— Forbidden Fruits

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CHAPTER FIVE

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When Marinette came to, her head was pounding immensely.

Several low murmurs consumed all that she could hear. She squinted, but her vision was blurry, obstructing her from clearly surveying her surroundings. The inaudible voices around her were considerably low as if they wanted to prevent from waking her, or perhaps they didn't want her to hear what they were saying. She came to that latter conclusion when she realized her wrists and ankles had been bound to a wooden chair with rope, and her mouth gagged with cloth.

At first, she weakly tried to struggle. Her efforts did little to set her free. When she tried to yell, her voice was muffled by agonized groans. As her vision became more focused, she realized she was inside Deadwood's only inn—a three-story building that once provided rest for travelers on the edge of town when Deadwood was once a popular town. Now though, hardly anyone ever stopped for rest in a town they considered to be a ghost town. The inn had been abandoned years ago on the outskirts of town due to the lack of business.

The second thing she noticed was green, and not just any green. When she looked straight ahead, the eyes that bore into her briefly frightened ones were emerald green, so green that she almost mistook them for jewels. She had never seen a pair of eyes so intense before. 

For a moment, Marinette thought that she ought to be afraid of the stranger's eyes, but something about those irises comforted her more than they scared her.

For what felt like ages, she and the stranger merely stared into one another's eyes, briefly captivated by what they saw. But then, the moment was quickly shattered when someone cleared their throat. It was then that the stranger instantly pulled away, and she was able to finally blink.

Only then did her eyes widen when she realized just whose eyes she had been staring into.

Chat noir stood before her in all his glory. His eyes, if they had a bounty alone, would probably be worth a fortune. His head, however, was worth much more—so much more that she knew her father would give anything to see this man in chains... or his head on a spike. For as long as she could remember, she had always wondered what his eyes looked like. Not only that but his face. Without a bandana covering his nose and mouth, all she was left with was a black mask that protected his eyes, and a ringo hat which made him all the more mysterious.

But her eyes found themselves focused on his rosy lips, lips that quirked into an all-knowing smirk when he realized she was staring. That smirk sent an unpleasant chill down her spine. The man who stood before her was ruthless. At least, that was all she had ever been told. His reputation was never a bluff to the people of their small town, or to anyone who was unfortunate enough to live in their endless country.

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