Chapter Text
Marinette Dupain-Cheng, contrary to popular belief, was not actually a coward.
Sure, she may overthink miles past the point of usefulness and had enough nervous energy to power all the misplaced electronics in her room, but her fear was only ever crippling went turned inward. When she knew she was bound to fall short or make a proper mess out of a salvage situation.
Which is why Marinette is here, instead of resting comfortably in her bed like her parents believed she was. Because she was not a coward … well, at least when it came down to the well-being of her best friend.
“Move along scary cat!” Said ungrateful best friend called, glancing back at Marinette over her shoulder. “We don’t have all night.”
Marinette scowled at Alya’s flippantness, shoulders tense as she lowered her flashlight to the ground. “Haven’t we been here long enough?”
Alya tilted her head, her teeth flashing briefly in the darkness as she shot Marinette an entirely unnecessary grin. “Girl, it has barely been an hour since we got here.”
“And we still haven’t found anything,” Marinette hissed. “Unless you count the rat’s nest which I so could have done without -”
“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” Alya turned around and continued to walk down the hall, each step crunching and echoing as she moved towards the next set of doors.
Marinette couldn’t help but scoff, kicking at some loose rocks as she followed. “No, you just told me you were planning to sneak into some abandoned, decrepit, musty old building by yourself.” She glared at the back of Alya’s head as she pushed her way into yet another room. “All because some online weirdo said so. Honestly, I’m surprised we aren’t already in the back of a van on its way out of the country or buried beneath a pile of rubble.”
Alya had the nerve to laugh. “You make it sound like the ceiling is about to cave in on us,” she made a show of looking up, aiming her phone light towards the concrete ceiling, where to Marinette’s petty satisfaction, a deep fissure spread along the damaged roof.
Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows in a smug expression that went completely unnoticed as Alya began to trace the deep crack, humming thoughtfully as she tracked it to the other side of the room before disappearing behind a corner.
Marinette groaned, dragging a hand over her forehead and pushing her bangs away from her face.
When they first arrived at the building, Marinette had gripped the back of Alya’s shirt and attempted to drag her back on the scooter bike.
The sight of the lonely, three-story brick monstrosity was enough to send a shiver down her spine, the rational part of her brain that hadn’t been preoccupied with imagining her parents calling the police in an anxiety-driven panic screamed at her that this was - quite possibly - the worst idea she had ever had and to please just go home before she died in a place nobody would ever think to look for her.
And truly, she would have driven away, Alya’s protests be damned, had the girl not already hopped off her bike and shaken herself out of her grip. The building was even drearier on the inside than she would have hoped for, drenching the pair in complete darkness as soon as they’d set foot on the dusty floor.
Alya had not told her what exactly she was looking for, which left Marinette’s imagination to conjure increasingly outrageous motives the longer they spent sneaking through endless halls and empty rooms.
Her current running theory was that Alya believed this building used to be some gang’s headquarters, a center for organized crime, and had decided not to tell Marinette to protect her under plausible deniability and because she knew Marinette would throttle her for bringing them here.
Her irritation, which mainly consisted of a healthy dose of self-preservation Alya would surely mislabel as nerves, was stoked by exhaustion that dragged at her feet and weighted on her shoulders.
In addition to her thrumming headache, the way her stomach clenched unpleasantly on the meagre food she swallowed before excusing herself from dinner, and the fierce itching from the side of her neck from what Alya described to be “probably a large mosquito bite, best not to irritate it,” even though she had slapped a damn spider off herself fifteen minutes into their ghost tour … Well, Marinette was beginning to consider the merits of dragging Alya out of this over-large garbage can by the hair.
Alya rounded the concern, wiping a hand beneath her glasses. “Done,” she announced.
Marinette perked up, violent thoughts diminishing to manageable annoyance, “Like, done done.”
Alya let out a sigh, stepping forward to hook her arm throught Marinette’s as she slid her phone into her pocket. “Done done,” she confirmed, and Marinette didn’t waste any time in pulling them back to the main staircase, careful to illuminate the spiralling steps as they made their way back to the ground floor.
“So,” Marinette hazarded as they hit solid ground, peering around the cavernous space. “Was any of this worth it?”
Alya pulled on Marinette’s arm, prompting her to flash her light at the opposite wall with a familiar diagonal rupture, small pebbles and glass smarting the floor beneath it. “The exit was further ahead of this, right?” Alya tugged Marinette forward, “and I wouldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.”
Marinette blew out a breath, letting her head fall back with the motion. “No, you’re right, exploring abandoned, creepy buildings with your best friend is an absolute must. Why wouldn’t anyone find the activity remotely -”
“Exhilarating?” Alya tapped a finger to her lips, “Audacious, perhaps? Enterprising?”
“I wouldn’t be that charitable, but sure.”
Alya stepped away from her to start climbing out the window, careful to let herself dangle before dropping the short distance to the pavement below. Alya caught the flashlight as Marinette followed after her, steadying herself from stumbling after her hands slipped too early from the window sill.
After unearthing the scooter bike from behind a dumpster and a pile of flat cardboard boxes, Marinette was finally on the roads - nearly empty save for the odd passing car or hunched figure on the sidewalk.
Alya’s arms were secure around her waist, her chin digging into her shoulder as the fresh summer air brushed over her cheeks. The feeling of open space coupled with the approaching lights as the pair near the heart of the city was a soothing balm to Marinette’s nerves.
Then the lights shifted, twinkling white and gold were quickly overtaken by flashing red and blue, the blaring of sirens assaulting the night air with merciless urgency. Marinette slowed to a stop on the side of the road, feet planted on the ground as a procession of police cars sped past her. Heart on her throat, Marinette craned her neck as she watched them go, counting at least seven vehicles rushing away.
Marinette met Alya’s wide eyes, seeing her uneasiness reflected on her unusually pale face, before tightening her grip on her bike handles and accelerating away.
Her headache flared in her temples, pulsing to the beat of the fading sirens. Sweat gathered in her palms and upper lip, her stomach clenching painfully as she swallowed her rising dread.
Alya’s apartment was not far away, but she sped along the cobblestones anyway, the feeling of Alya shifting to scan the road behind them a poor reassurance to their continued safety.
There could be dozens of reasons why a parade of officers was being deployed, but Marinette knew the most likely one, the first reason that crossed her and Alya’s minds and sent them racing home with dried throats and harming heartbeats.
An Akuma was attacking the city - and there was no safety to be found when facing such a monster.