Miraculous Headache

The Pigeonman Rises

REQUIRED READING:

"Bustier"
Bus·tier (ˈbo͞ostēā,ˈbəstēā/)
noun

Definition: a close-fitting strapless top worn by women. Often associated with a sexually appealing bra.

A/N: Some have pointed out that I write the French "Chat Noir" instead of the Americanized "Cat Noir"...

I do that because "Chat" looks like "Shat." No other reason.

But I understand this is a sticking point for some fans. So, in respect, for this chapter only, I will write "Chat Noir" as "Cat Noir"...

In Korean.

                                                                                           PROLOGUE

"We have arrived at the Charles De Gaulle International airport, also known as Roissy Airport. The local time is 9:15 am. We know you had many choices in your airline provider and we're glad you chose AirFrance. Welcome to Paris. Feel free to use your electronic devices," happily chirped the pilot.

I turned Lappy on, my gaze trained on the window.

"You did what you had to. It was necessary for the plot," Lappy tried to comfort me.

"It's one of the stupidest things I've ever written," I sighed.

"And it also properly introduced half a dozen recurring characters, Marinette's fashion passion and Chloe's whole attitude problem. I know you dreaded uploading this chapter, but it's over now. We can move on..." its digital voice trailed off as it saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance, "I Write Big, why are we in France?"

"I need to know why. I need to ask Thomas Astruc why he wrote 'Mr. Pigeon,'" I grabbed my carry-on and disembarked. "I've already tried twitter, but he's not responding. We're not leaving until we find him."

"Dude... you're scaring me."

I ignored Lappy and put it in my bag. Donning my beret, I marched through customs and turned my phone back on.

BEEP!

There was a notification on the Astruc feed... 'at RoissyAirport boarding for LAX! Gonna be in America for a couple months to promote next season of #MLCN! See you tomorrow!' My eyes shot open and quickly looked at the time of the post... 2 minutes ago.

Departures was just beyond, guarded by several dozen armed members of whatever France called their TSA.

"Finally, after all these years," marveled the harmless old lady in front of me. She was about to hand over her passport to the customs official. "I've been dreaming of coming to this beautiful city for my entire life."

"Bomb!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "She's got a bomb!"

Everyone screamed and jumped back, except the old lady who for some reason thought I was trying to talk to her.

"Huh, what was that, sonny? My hearing isn't what is used to be."

I made sure I was loud enough for security to hear, "You just said you've been dreaming of bombing this airport for your entire life!"

"Oh, that's right," the deaf lady agreed, "I've waiting for the right moment, what with saving for retirement and all-"

She was immediately tackled by every security agent in the room. All the travelers erupted in a mass panic and desperately tried to get out of the terminal.