The Algorithm

Chapter twenty-five - Deserter

"Tell Plagg I'm sorry," Marinette replied before cutting the com and ripping the tracker from its place in a ball of wires.

She didn't sleep much through the flight, letting autopilot glide them over the ocean. She did eventually drift off and when she opened her eyes again the blue waves were replaced with an endless sheet of white. A few more kilometers and she'd be on top of Adrien's prison.

She made a jerky landing and turned on the bergs cloaking. She grabbed the bag of supplies she brought along and dug out the Akuma uniform she had stolen when she and Adrien had been in Australia. She slipped on a bodysuit meant to preserve body heat and put the Akuma uniform over top, frowning at how big the boots were.

When her feet first hit the snow she knew the trek through would be long and cold, made no easier by her boots dragging in the white powder. Her backpack bit into her shoulders and the wind made her path frigid but she marched on, refusing to give Akuma an extra second to hurt the boy she'd come to love.

It took an hour until she was standing above the coordinates.

With numb fingers she dug through the snow, throwing it behind her like a dog searching for a buried bone. It didn't take long for her to hit solid ground, or rather, hit a metal trap door. And miraculously, her powers still worked. And even more miraculously, just hours before Marinette's arrival a snowstorm had shut down most of the compound's power, so she had time before her telekinesis disconnected and before Akuma realized she was there.

She used her powers to shift the heavy bolts in the trap door until she was able to swing it open. She was hit by a wall or warm air enveloping her. She slid through the door and down the stairs, her fingers and toes stinging from the blood rush. Because everyone's attention was on trying to get the power-up, no one noticed an out-of-place guard.

She'd been there almost two hours searching, going from door to door picking locks with her powers, looking for a sign he was there. So far nothing. But then she came across a door with rusted hinges.

She opened the door with a metal whine and was met with rows and counters full of empty beakers along with charts stacked away against the back wall. Boxes of surgical tools and files lay waiting while a layer of dust slowly draped itself over the room.

Marinette stood past the empty desktops and opened one of the forgotten boxes. It was only half full of paper and graphs, she recognized a few as blood tests, a growth chart, and what looked to be a sleep study. She was about to toss the box aside as unimportant when she found a photograph attached to a surgical file.

The patient was strapped down at the wrists and across the chest. A leather strap gagged them so they had something to bite down on while they screamed until they would inevitably pass out. Black dashes had been drawn around their shoulder socket, marking where the first incisions would go. Tears burned in Marinette's eyes as she stared at the picture. Hoping the longer she stared at it the less it would look like Adrien. But there was no denying how fearful his eyes were. She had seen that look too many times before to mistake it for anything else.

She threw the picture back into the box and closed the lid, locking the image away.

Please, please be okay, she begged over and over.

She sat hunched over the box for far too long before she pulled herself together again. She went to the next box, this one looked more recent, less dust had settled on the lid than the rest. She dug through until she found the file dating two weeks prior. Most of it was a medical language she didn't understand but the gist was that Adrien would soon be moved to the veteran refugee. Which meant he was alive. And whatever they did to him worked.

Marinette left and tried to understand what she read as she tried to find the next door.

"The test subject," Adrien. "Can now successfully decompose mass into a state of flotsam. Test subjects' heart rate increases dramatically when a physician or guard comes near them. The test subject will cry out repeatedly, 'Don't touch me!'."

She was still trying to piece it together when she got to the door. She unlocked it and found a room filled with random objects. Furniture, toys, books, mirrors, tapestries, and by far the oddest, piles of ashes everywhere. But nothing drew more of her attention than the mop of blonde hair she saw in a mirror reflection.

There he was. Lay beat and bruised on the floor, but so very much alive. She ran to his side, cradling his head in her hands. Tears stung her eyes but she couldn't break down yet, not until she knew he was okay.

"Adrien? Adrien, wake up." He didn't stir. She rested his head in her lap, dropped the backpack from her shoulders, and dug out the medkit. She cleaned his cuts, added a couple of stitches, and bandaged what she could. She had food, water, and something to help ease the pain, but he needed to be awake to take them. So she let her cantine drizzle onto his face.

"Adrien?"

He woke up with a startle. He stared up at her for a moment, dazed, before his eyes went wide and he pushed her away.

"Don't touch me!" He cried as he backed into the wall.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Marinette lulled, taking off the Akuma helmet. "It's me, Adrien. It's okay. I'm here to take you home."

He gawked at her for a second before realization came.

"Clara?"

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Sorry about the long hiatus!! 

Word Count: 1617 (not counting this)

Clara? Haven't heard that name in a while🤔🤔🤔

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