"Most people are ignorant. Not because they can't be any different, but because they rather not be any different."
— Forbidden Fruits
CHAPTER THREE
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Chat Noir was many things in the eyes of the people of Deadwood. A man cloaked in black, hidden behind a mask wasn't considered someone looking to protect his identity according to the people, but simply a coward. A coward who stole their goods and their money; who haunted their lives day and night for his personal gain... and perhaps they were correct. Perhaps deep inside, Chat Noir was a coward; an outcast since the day he had been born. But there was something about him that no one who judged him would ever know.
That he was a man just like them. A man with feelings and troubles of his own.
Sometimes, he liked to inject himself into the people's lives as if he were a part of the normality, just to remember what it felt like to be someone who wasn't a criminal. In truth, the interactions with the townspeople never made him feel normal. Why would it? The people would always see him as his masked, villainess persona if he always chose to hide his face, and even if he were to eventually reveal himself hoping for some sort of fantasized acceptance and perhaps even forgiveness, they would still see him as their destined enemy.
He figured a drink in the saloon would fix his disappointment. After all, liquor tended to fix most of his problems temporarily. He expected to be stared down when he entered, the joyous ruckus of drunk men easing down into an eerie silence as they all watched him unsurely.
But what he hadn't expected was for her to be there.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The mayor's only daughter. The youngest of five siblings. The pinnacle of her late mother's beauty. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life (and that was saying a lot considering he'd seen a wonderous number of women in his lifetime.) But Marinette was not like other women. He was drawn to her, and not just her beauty. Something about her intrigued him. Perhaps it was because he could relate to her in some way. He knew that as the only daughter of the mayor, she was trapped, and he understood that feeling well.
But even with his innocent infatuation, there was no way that a man like himself could ever stand a chance with a woman like her. His reputation robbed him of that chance; his choices robbed him of many things.
Butttt that didn't mean he couldn't keep tabs on her.
Surprisingly, he hadn't known that she would be at the saloon that evening, and without her father knowing either. That thought had him smiling behind his glass. One thing he admired most about her was her determination to do as she pleased, which mostly involved going against society's standards and her father's rule.
A woman who liked to break the rules was certainly an eye-catching woman.
But of course, he could never be with the likes of her. His reputation would forever remind him of that, and so would the people of Deadwood. Besides, she has four older brothers. What kind of man would be brave enough to look death in the eye?
With that thought in mind, he demanded another drink. The bartender scampered away with his empty glass, intending to refill it. The saloon remained entirely silent.
In fact, she was with one of her brothers now. Elias was his name, if Chat Noir remembered it correctly. The man was currently staring daggers at him, and Chat Noir didn't have to look over his shoulder to know it either. He could feel that glare of hatred for his existence a mile away. It was a look he was all too familiar with. Of course, he couldn't really blame the man, though he still found it rather amusing that Elias thought he could protect his little sister from the likes of him.
If he really wanted to, Chat Noir could have his way with her, and no one would be able to stop him. But he wasn't that kind of man.
He stole riches and wealth, even lives if he absolutely had to, but he wouldn't steal a woman's freedom. Especially not Marinette's.
Soon after he finished his second glass, Chat Noir stood and exited the saloon as quickly as he entered. As any sane criminal would, his drinks were left unpaid, and no one tried to get him to pay his bill. No one had ever been brave enough to face him and he figured no one ever would be. After two drinks, the infamous bandit was already feeling lighter on his feet, his worries and disappointments practically specs of dust in the air he breathed by now. His faithful steed, which had been tied discreetly in front of the post office across the road from the saloon, jerked his head up and down excitedly when he noticed his master approaching.
That brought a grin to his lips in a matter of seconds. Plagg, his gorgeous black stallion, was an incredible sight to be seen, and probably the best company a man could ever ask for. He spared a moment of scarce time to pat his horse's neck in public, fully aware that in a few minutes, a man looking to be somewhat daring would exit the saloon to tell the sheriff he was in town.
A ripe, red apple fell at his feet a second later from the tree above. Plagg instantly leaned down to indulge his taste buds. The bandit paid the apple no mind at first as he simply watched the saloon from a distance. A smirk found its way to Chat Noir's lips when four drunk men stepped out, intending to find the sheriff in their condition. He shook his head and chuckled under his breath as they stumbled in the complete opposite direction of where he was.
"Ya shouldn't be out here."
He didn't even flinch at the voice. He'd known of its presence since the moment he'd come up to greet his horse.
"And since when were you given authority to give me orders?"
The leaves from the tree above him rustled suddenly. An ally of his jumped down with a grunt, hidden beneath a black hood. They offered another red apple to Plagg with an open palm. His horse accepted it without worry.
"It's not an order, just a concerned sister lookin' out for her brother."
"You are the one who shouldn't be out here," He kept his back facing her until the men he was watching disappeared around a corner of the next building. Chat Noir turned to face her a moment later with his arms folded across his chest, disappointment evident in his features. "Not unless someone is with you, and I would prefer if you didn't come out at all durin' the day. How many times must we have this discussion?"
"I'm not a child." His sister replied defiantly, still hidden underneath her hood. "It would be nice if ya could stop treatin' me as one. I'm ready for more than just petty thievin' and collectin' intel if you would just give me the chance."
"And when I deem you ready, you shall have that chance."
"And how much longer must I be forced to wait in the shadows?"
Chat Noir tenderly reached forward to pat her head. She tried to shoo his hand away with a swat of her own, but she failed miserably. His smile remained fond as he continued to coddle her. "To remain patient would be in your best interests. Your time will come, but you needn't rush it."
His sister pouted underneath his touch. "I'm tired of waitin'."
He offered her a sympathetic smile. "As am I."
She looked up at him suddenly, her expression clouded with confusion. "And what are ya waitin' for?"
The infamous bandit turned his sights back to the saloon, where the woman he was entirely devoted to still sat inside, enjoying a glass of whiskey with her brother. What was he waiting for? Even he wasn't sure. Perhaps he was waiting for the heist of a lifetime, something that would set them up for life. Or perhaps he was waiting for their fates to be rewritten; for each of them to have a second chance to prove that they could be something more than just thieves.
He shrugged, his expression a bit sad. "A chance, Kit. Just a chance."
His sister, Kit, watched him confusingly. She didn't understand his desire for change, and perhaps she never would. She was only seventeen, young and set in the ways she had been brought up in because that was what he had taught her—what their parents had taught them. Their way of life was all they had ever known. It was a sense of security, the only certainty they had in life, even if it was wrong. No one would ever understand that.
Chat Noir swiftly mounted his horse. He extended a hand down to his sister. "We should go before someone spots me."
"Before someone spots us." She corrected him before she took his hand, and with little effort, he pulled her up onto Plagg's back.
He chuckled, deciding not to argue on the matter. No one even knew his little sister existed besides the men he considered his allies, and he preferred to keep it that way. Perhaps that was why he was so hesitant to grant her greatest desire: to be a part of an actual heist. A part of him feared she might fail. A part of him even feared she might get caught. A part of him was too scared of losing the only blood family he had left.
"So, ya might be surprised, but I actually did collect some intel today at the post office." His sister commented from behind as they began a low trot through the dusty roads of Deadwood. Lithe arms wove around his middle a moment later and her forehead pressed against his back, indicating her exhaustion.
Chat Noir exhaled slowly, "And what did you hear?"
"They raised the bounty on your head to $1,000,000."
He rolled his eyes amusingly at that, the start of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Lovely, though I'm not shocked. They will continue to raise it so long as I continue breathin'."
"That's not all," Kit continued, sounding worried as she dismissed his attempt at light humor. "I heard talk that the Reaper has been spotted out in the desert mountains, north of us."
Chat Noir's hands instantly faltered on the reigns at the news, which caused Plagg to jerk forward suddenly. He lurched forward, and his sister went with him, a dissatisfied grunt leaving her lips at the sudden movement. Chills rose up his spine at the mention of the name. The smile that was close to captivating his expression entirely melted in a matter of seconds.
His voice sounded like an empty void when he finally found the words to speak. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. Are you certain you heard correctly?"
"I swear on our mama's grave." Kit said seriously, "The men said they were ambushed on their way back from their delivery at Pikeingham. All of the mail ponies were stolen, includin' seven thousand gold coins."
"Seven thousand?" A single brow arched up his forehead. "Why would those men be carryin' so much money on them while deliverin' letters?"
"Beats me," His sister shrugged her shoulders, just as confused as he was. "But the reason they believe it's him is 'cause one of the mailmen claimed to have seen hair so dark it looked blue underneath the desert sun. Of course, he only caught a glimpse of it before he was shot off his horse."
Chat Noir huffed out a frustrated sigh through his nose. There was no doubt from what he had heard that the Reaper was planning his return. "If he's makin' his way back to Deadwood, he's definitely after the mayor's daughter again."
"The pampered princess?" Kit rolled her eyes at that. "Why does that matter to ya? Let him do with her what he wishes if it means he'll leave us be."
He chose to ignore his sister's disgust with the woman he rather liked to avoid further argument. "You and I both know that isn't an option. The Reaper would make her life a livin' hell."
"Perhaps, but why should that perturb ya? Surely ya remember the last time ya tried drawin' pistols with the Reaper?"
Somewhat annoyed, Chat Noir kept his eyes focused forward. "Because it could be you instead of her, and besides, I ain't a fan of men takin' advantage of women anyhow." He then smirked as he considered her second question. "And of course I remember. The bastard wears an eye patch as a constant reminder of what he lost that day."
"Sure, ya took his eye," The way she said it implied it didn't matter, and perhaps it didn't. "And what did he end up takin' from ya in return?"
Chat Noir's posture stiffened all on its own. That bloody Reaper had taken almost everything he had ever held dear to his heart. Taking his eye would never amount to any justice. It would never overwrite the injustice that the Reaper had inflicted upon them all. There was too much history behind their years' worth of rivalry for a missing eye to ever be a worthy form of revenge. An eye is just an eye, and therefore isn't much to mourn over when you have another. But what a man holds precious to his heart? There will only ever be one of that.
"He took everythin' from ya." The words that left his sister's lips were bitterly spat out through gritted teeth. "From us. All because ya chose to save her."
Chat Noir whipped around to glare at her over his shoulder. "Watch your tongue when you speak 'bout her."
"Or what?" Kit challenged, chin raised high. "You'll save her over the only family ya have left?"
Her words finally struck his last nerve. With one harsh tug on the reigns, Plagg came to a quick and sudden halt. Unprepared, his sister jerked forward again, her nose slamming into his back, (a lot harder than she had the first time, he'd admit) except this time around, his actions had been entirely intentional.
"Get off."
His sister turned to look at him with wide eyes, aghast. She was rubbing her aching nose, which he was surprised wasn't bleeding, but he was fairly certain it would turn a nasty shade of purple from bruising.
"A-Are ya serious?"
"I mean it." He said, his expression remaining stoic. "I will not sit here and listen to you ridicule my past decisions which I once thought would be best for everyone, and I will not listen to you mock a woman you know nothin' 'bout either."
"As if ya know anythin' 'bout her to make a good judgment." Kit scoffed. "That woman wouldn't give a fickle if she knew ya were her hero. In fact, I bet if she knew, she'd just spit in your face for all your efforts."
He found himself chuckling. He didn't believe her. "And what makes you so certain of that?"
"That woman thinks the same way as everyone else in this town does: that ya are a monster."
"Because she's ignorant." He simplified with a nonchalant shrug. "Everyone in this town is ignorant."
Kit folded her arms across her chest, stubbornly so, huffing as if she didn't think he should exempt that fact so easily. "If they were really interested in knowin' the truth, they would go lookin' for it. The problem with this town is that everyone will believe anythin' they hear without knowin' if it's true or not."
He didn't disagree. But there was also something she was forgetting. "They will never ever find out the truth if we don't allow them to see it."
His sister scoffed, but there was no argument against that statement from her because even she knew it was true. Instead, she dismounted his steed in one swift move, quickly raising her hood to cover her face from any possible curious onlookers. "Whatever. Do what ya want. You're the boss."
Chat didn't turn to look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, his gaze locking on where those four drunken men had disappeared minutes prior. If they had succeeded in finding the sheriff, he didn't have much time to be lounging out in the open, no matter how well his disguise fooled many. "I'll be protectin' the mayor's daughter from that bastard. I've already decided on that."
"Of course ya have." His sister rolled her eyes at that, already turning to leave him.
He turned his head then, his eyes stern as he watched her take only a few steps forward. "But..." he paused, watching as she too stopped to hear his next words, even though her back remained facing towards him. "I'm goin' to need your help in order for my plan to work."
She turned on her heels rather quickly, looking up at him with wide, surprised eyes. "For real? Ya want my help with an actual heist?"
Chat Noir nodded, a bit of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
She narrowed her eyes at him skeptically. "Ya better not be shittin' me."
A shout broke through their quiet reverie. Chat Noir glanced up, finding the sheriff a distance away pointing in his direction. He was accompanied by two other young men in uniform, and behind them, the four drunken men were pointing in exclamation.
"I'm not." With an amused smile, he turned to look at her again and extended out his gloved hand. "So, get back up on my horse. We've got a lot of work to do."
She grinned up at him and took his hand. "What changed your mind?"
"'Bout deemin' you ready?" He hoisted her up, and her leg came over the back of his saddle a second later. "Perhaps you always have been, and I've just been a paranoid older brother."
Plagg reared up on his hind legs a moment later. With a loud whinny, the determined black stallion took off down the dusty roads of Deadwood. Sand flew up as Plagg's hooves thudded like an earthquake against hard ground, tumbleweeds rolling behind them like their shadows. The sheriff was shouting incoherent commands, pistols were raised, and townspeople had come out from their homes to see the commotion, but no one got a proper look at the man on top of his gallant steed.
"I reckon ya got a plan?" His sister asked him as the town of Deadwood slowly grew smaller and smaller behind them. In the far distance, gunshots could still be vaguely heard, gunpowder and bullets wasted on the air itself. Plagg kept on running, his legs pumping and breath heavy as he headed to the desert mountains without any guidance.
Chat Noir found himself grinning as the chilled wind from their speed nicked at his cheeks. It seemed his chance to make things different was finally becoming a reachable feat.
"Indeed I do. We are goin' to kidnap the mayor's daughter before the Reaper can."
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Muhahahaha it's starting to get good.
Sooo an update of the week: caught covid twice, car battery is shot, will have to fork out some $$ for a vet bill today... life has just been peachy!
Let's see how next week goes :)
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the 3rd chapter, lovelies. See you again on Friday, February 18th!
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