14. Chapter 14

According to International News Safety Institute, the first step one must do during an abduction scene is 'to fight back in an attempt to gain attention and help'.

However, both Adrien and Marinette decided not to follow the said protocol.

The teenagers accepted the invitation not because their abductors were intimidating but because they weren't hostile. No gags or blindfolds, no weapons or death threats - they even ushered them meekly outside the vehicle and respected their personal space. Their silent attitudes intrigued them to meet their employer.

Besides, Curiosity could do more things than to kill a cat.

When the model noticed the bulge on every men's jacket, he knew that challenging them would be bad. He wasn't transformed, and several civilians might be involved in a possible crossfire, particularly Marinette.

He never doubted his civilian's ability to protect her. He once saved her during Gamer's attack, but the situation gave him a chance to change as Chat Noir.

However this time, he didn't want to take a risk and leave her just to transform. This was not an Akuma attack, Ladybug was not around, and the fact that they were in a middle of nowhere was already a big disadvantage.

A lot of things could happen in just a second, and losing Marinette would be -

"Adrien."

He rapidly shook his head, refusing to acknowledge his worst fears. He even forgot how to breathe. His heart was squeezed in pains. He promised her parents, he promised himself that he'd -

"Adrien." the designer winced. "You're hurting my hand."

The boy soon realized that he was gripping her hand so tight that his knuckles became white. With a deep sigh, he relaxed his hand without releasing his grasp.

No way he would let her go.

"I'm sorry." Adrien apologized. Frustrations were starting to muddle his mind.

"It's alright. I understand." she calmly answered with a squeeze. "Nervousness can do that."

He didn't reply.

A dark tinted sedan was waiting for them on the side of the road. He didn't sense any dangers inside, and even if he failed to catch it with his civilian self, his feline kwami would immediately sniff it.

He entered the car first, eyeing the corners for traps before he led his companion inside.

One of the men who opened their door was about to assist Marinette inside, but the model glared at him viciously.

"Don't touch her," he growled.

The man stepped back then timidly closed the door behind them.

A thick silver mesh separated them from the driver and the man that occupied the front seat. The vehicle has an automatic door lock system, and probably a bullet-proof one due to its exterior finish.

Recalling Natalie's voicemails, the assistant must've caught a whiff about their abduction plan in a short notice for her to send his bodyguard 'Gorilla' immediately to Normandy. Whether she learned about his detours with Marinette or assumed that he was with his classmates in Saint-Clair, he got no idea.

What he could tell was that these men were able to know his exact whereabouts to execute the entrapment, and by the number of reinforcements and their undisclosed ammunition, they more likely thought that Gorilla was with him.

But how? What hinted them? Was it from the news clip in Gare St. Lazare? The fans assault after leaving the tollgate? The mother-son traveling to Argentan? The fiasco in a pub near Evreux?

They thought Marinette was his bodyguard?

He groaned internally.

Forget facing his father's wrath, he didn't want to go back to Paris and be christened as the walking meme of Disaster Girl and WTC Guy.

Unbeknownst to him, Marinette was thinking the same thing - minus the memes.

The designer thought that Chat Noir got her so bad that she acquired a terminal disease called 'bad luck'.

Looking at the tinted windows, she saw the indigo hues dominating the afternoon sky. Years of being Ladybug honed her observation skills and knew that every detail counts in order to formulate their escape.

These people would never hurt Adrien, she knew that. He was their objective, but not Marinette.

In a typical kidnapping scenario, she was considered a dead weight, which means the first to be disposed of, and by that, she knew they didn't know about her trump card.

If that would happen, she would transform and save themselves from their impending doom.

But first, she must know their abductors' motives.

Marinette ogled at the driver who casually peered on them through the rear mirror.

It weirded her why these men didn't take their phones or check their belongings. She could actually dial 112 while en-route to their base, but she brushed off the idea.

They didn't look stupid to her, and they have an air of professional hitmen, so there'd be a chance that they were baiting them, or probably looking for an excuse to eliminate her.

Blue eyes met green ones.

"What?" she asked, unaware that Adrien was staring at her for a long time.

"Nothing," he replied then moved his gaze towards their linked hands. Rubbing a thumb on her knuckles he mused. "You have small hands."

"That's because yours are big."

Silence overpowered them for a minute.

"Do you trust me?"

His question surprised her. The warmth that laced on his words and the caress he did on her skin was enough to turn her into a puddle of goo.

"I trust you."

Then their car stopped.

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A large mansion appeared in front of them with architectural designs inspired by the Baroque era. The steel bar gates weren't worn out despite being ancient, indicating that the vast property has been preserved well. The pavements were made of graphite, same with the outdoor columns as they passed the garden.

The two were led inside the antechamber. A large chandelier was hung in the middle, with its lightings complementing the pattered floorings and the room's painted wall.

There was a cushioned sofa covered in red cashmere for guests, but not inviting enough to be seated. It might be antique, but the fabric looked so stiff enough to prick their butts.

Then the double door across the room opened.

A stout man in checkered trousers entered, followed by two dark-suited men. He was sporting a glass with round rims, and an auburn hair in high tufts. One of the dark men whispered something to him, which was acknowledged with a nod before walked towards the youngsters.

"Adrien Agreste," he stated then briefly glanced at the designer. "I always thought you're untouchable with someone around."

"She's not my bodyguard." he retorted then frowned when he sensed her giggling.

"Don't mind me." Marinette bit the side of her cheeks. "Sir."

Adrien gawked at her incredulously.

"Very well." the man was busy dismissing his assistants to notice the exchange. "Mr. Howards would like to see you."

The two followed him silently, eyeing the ornaments and various rooms for possible clues about the mysterious Mr. Howards, aside from the notion of an obviously rich bastard. Another flight of stairs and few hallways passed, they finally reached a large mahogany door of a study room. The man rapped it thrice, followed by some clicking noises, then a command 'Enter'.

When Adrien saw the man sitting at the table, he immediately knew the reason why he was brought there.

Months ago, Gabriel Agreste got an interesting offer from a certain textile company that supplies cashmere. As a self-proclaimed top-quality distributor of the said fabrics, the company desired to have a business tie-ups with fashion houses, particularly Gabriel's. There was no speculation why the offer was called off, but there were rumors that Gabriel has a personal grudge against the company owner - and that was Mister Joseph Howards.

"It's been a while." Mr. Howards greeted him with pearly white teeth that were glinting against the lamplight. "Perhaps you can still remember me."

"Of course. If my memory serves right, we once met at a party at Le Grand Paris." the boy answered coolly.

Being the sole heir, Adrien was reared to attend social functions and entertain prospect investors, as well as refusing clients that his father deemed unproductive without giving any ideas why. He considered the act as unfair all the time, but after learning about Mr. Howards, he knew that his father made a correct decision.

No need for a feline's instinct to prove that this man was up to no-good.

"Why don't you two be seated first?" the business tycoon offered. "Tyrone, bring us some light snacks."

The stout attendant was about to comply when the boy shook his head. "I'm sorry but we have to decline your offer, Sir. Our school was expecting us to be in Saint-Clair before nightfall."

"Hmm. I'm not sure if you understand your current situation, young Agreste." Mr. Howard reclined in his chair. "Accepting my invitation means there's no turning back."

"As if you gave us a choice."

"Heroic, are we? Such youngsters brimming with confidence. Even you, young lady. Confronting a man that's twice your size?"

So they figured them out from the news' headlines.

"I didn't do anything wrong." Marinette's sass earned her snicker.

The man produced a folder. "Let's see...Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only child of two Parisian bakers. An aspiring fashion designer. Won an intraschool fashion contest judged by Gabriel Agreste himself. Featured in a magazine as the person behind Jagged Stone's best-selling album covers. Mentioned by the said rock star himself as the one who gifted him his all-famous Eiffel shades. School standing looks normal. Grades and attendances, atypical. For a commoner status, exceptional."

"Leave her out of this!" the model snarled.

Howards raised his brow. "Oh, did I hit a nerve? Overprotective with your so-called friend yet have some guts to see an impending danger - what an Agreste-ive trait."

"At least I'm not a Howards like you."

Leave it to Adrien and he'll wage a pun war.

"Oh boy, relax will you?" the man broke a fit of laughs, but the tension in the air still remained. "You always have this air of a prick like Gabe, but I never thought you got her humor. Your hair and your eyes - I thought these were the only features that you got from her genes. Now I'm curious to know you more."

"I don't think this is a social call to discuss my mother."

His words earned him a frown. "Got temperamental issues like your Dad, huh? Too bad your Mom who has the purest smile in the world was now lost because of his failed love."

It was a low blow, Marinette knew. The tycoon was taunting Adrien in order to lose his composure.

Feeling his tensions against her hand, she squeezed his, letting him know that he was not alone, that even though he may not believe it, she'll be there to support him.

After a brief second, she felt him relaxed. His pulse rate became normal.

"Father didn't fail Mother." the boy told him.

"But then, he failed you."

"What do you want, Mr. Howards?"

"Impatient, are we?" the man bemused. "Tyrone, why don't you give him the contract?"

Adrien received a clear folder with a Memorandum of Agreement written above the first page.

He wasn't stupid. He didn't need to open and read the thick binds in order to understand the stipulations.

"You know...I don't have the power to sign this."

"But you will be, someday. Let's just say this is a preparation once you take over your father's company." Mr. Howards shrugged.

"Just because I'm his son doesn't mean I will get the company by birthright. I'm not sure if I will follow his footsteps someday, or venture in a field of business."

"Then I don't see a problem with you not signing this."

The model grimaced. This man thinks he's an idiot.

"How sure are you that this will not lead to bankruptcy?"

"Of course it won't, young man." the tycoon folded his hands. "Try to imagine how much money the Gabriel's will save if they will purchase a processed cashmere that cost half the price compared to the fabrics sold in the market."

Marinette might be a simpleton in regards to the tricks of the trade, but she wasn't that naive.

Like Adrien, she grew up in a family that was hands-on with the business - though hers was in a food category. If he was modeling to help their business, she was into manning the cashier and designing the confectioneries.

Tom& Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie has a similar concept with any business establishments, and one of them was doubting things that sound 'too good to be true'. Like cheap ingredients would mean less expense with high revenues, however, the quality will be considered.

Unless...

"Smuggling." the designer deadpanned. "Cashmere fabrics are expensive, and if sold at a ridiculously cheap price without any quality ordeals, and on a wholesale deal, then that means there's a cut in between."

"I almost forgot we have a junior designer here." the man beamed. "Can you differentiate Miss Dupain-Cheng the contrabands versus high-end goods in terms of looks?"

"There's tax evasion, Sir."

"Doing the right thing doesn't automatically bring success."

"But compromising ethics almost always leads to failure."

"Touche." Mr. Howards scoffed at her words. "Which reminds me of these two vigilantes who, ever since they showed up in Paris, made some weird ruckus there as if they're fighting for peace."

The two teenagers froze.

"What did you say?!"

He wasn't paying attention to see their glares. "You know, that tiny spotted weakling called a Ladybug and her sidekick, I guess. What's his name? Ah, Chat Noir. They even coined their names from an insect and a cabaret, and their abilities made everything mediocre. Saving Paris against a villain, eh? What a ridiculous propaganda."

"What makes you say that?" Marinette asked with a contained anger.

Her companion was less obvious though.

"I've seen it with my two eyes, young lady. How imaginative these two are to change people into...what's that term again, Akuma?" Mr. Howards glanced at Tyrone for confirmation. "Yeah, sounds like a borrowed Japanese word. Sweet lord, I can't believe an off-handed comment can change a person into something else, with those props and everything. Thanks to them, I almost lost my head."

"Twiddle Doom. You're the reason behind his akumatization."

"Oh, the guys who made a rampage this morning? I'm a brutally honest person, and there's no way an idiot can change the time to revert their losses." he waved his hand nonchalantly. "Business is a gamble - you need to know your cards in order to play them well. And as I said, those were just propaganda behind that so-called superheroes. Miracles are nothing but illusions."

That was it.

Mr. Joseph Howards has been promoted as Top One on the superheroes' Most Wanted list. Not only he unwittingly abducted them to sign up for an illegal transaction, he even caused a fiasco that led them to miss their ride! More than that, he even insulted their Miraculous!

"So, how's our deal?" the tycoon asked again.

"There is no deal." Adrien spat out, slamming the contract on the table. "So if you'll excuse us, we have a bus to chase."

"This needs to be communicated with Gabriel." the man muttered with a seething fury.

What do they say about challenging your abductors? The two didn't care anymore.

"You should've said that since the beginning. You know that I don't have the power to overrule my father's wishes."

"You have, Adrien Agreste. That's why I want you to communicate with your father."

He simply frowned. "He's in New York, probably 36,000 feet above the ground."

"I know the man. We've been together in Lycée. He might be a prick, but he has a soft spot. Just like yours."

Four dark-clad men entered the room and encircled the young blond boy.

"Don't touch him!" Marinette crossed towards them, only to be intercepted by Tyrone.

Before she was a cold nozzle of a pistol aimed squarely at her forehead.

Time stopped for Adrien.

All he could see was red and almost erupted into black until a pair of bluebell eyes stopped his ferociousness.

He barely heard Mr. Howard's instructions on his dismissal. The fucker even explained how he tried to reach his father by visiting the mansion that morning, only to receive a disappointment news from Natalie - who, unbeknownst to the said fucker, happened to discover his evil plans.

If only he let his phone open for communications. If only he wasn't an ass and contacted Natalie about his whereabouts. If only he was not boastful about his abilities as Chat...

Marinette's life would never be in peril.

"Adrien." her warm voice and the sight of her smile brimming with confidence broke his reverie. "Just go."

His heart sunk. How could she do that to him? She was supposed to feel resentment or fear for her life.

There was a freaking gun pointed at her head!

"No - "

"I trust you," she told him firmly. "So trust me that everything will be alright."

"Please, don't do this."

Adrien wasn't begging for them.

He was begging her.

She was asking him to leave her, of all people.

The men were holding his arms now and were about to swing his knuckles when the revolver's barrel caulked, threatening to blow Marinette's head.

"You heard her. So be a good boy and obey." Tyrone threatened.

His eyes gazed at his companion carefully, lovingly, seeking for an assurance which was reciprocated by a nod. He took a deep breath.

"Chat you later, Princess."

If she got his underlying message or anyone inside the room before he was dragged out, the better.

He would never let them live this down.

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When the door closed behind them, Tyrone lowered the gun then tucked it back in his breast pocket.

"Drastic times calls for drastic measures." the attendant quoted unapologetically.

Marinette gave him a beady glare and then to Mr. Howards who was amused on the exchange. "Happy now?"

The tycoon smirked. "I'm not barbaric, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I hate to witness some blood spills on my carpet, much more in my beloved room. They're quite difficult to remove."

Aside from the two, there were three men inside the room. So even if she disabled the attendant, she might need to consider the other three who might've kept some weapons inside their sleeves. Also, their employer might be a combat specialist since he was an expert on egging people.

It was time to pull her trump card.

"Can - can I use a toilet?" she asked sheepishly.

"Sorry if I made you anxious, but yes, you can. Just right around that corner." the employer said as he stood up. "I need to attend some important things, so if you want some help, just call Tyrone."

Before she could open the toilet's door, Tyrone hovered near her ear and whispered. "We didn't confiscate your phones Miss Dupain-Cheng because Mr. Howards told us not to, but let me tell you that this place can block any cell receptions. So don't you ever make some undesirable escape or any calls for help, else I might spill some blood on this carpet, and probably not yours."

She gulped audibly then nodded.

Once entered, she immediately locked the door. She made sure that the man wasn't snooping outside before she slid on the tiled floors and wept.

Tikki emerged from her pocket and pawed her charger's wet face. "Oh, Marinette. I'm sorry."

The designer shook her head. "It's okay. They didn't know about my Miraculous...but...but - oh God."

"It's alright to feel fear. You're just a human being." the kwami soothed. "You've faced several monsters before this, so I know you'll be able to get away."

"Tikki, they took Adrien!"

"I know. I was there."

She sank on the floor. "I feel so useless right now."

"Not when you're Ladybug."

After she calmed down and gathered her bearings, she stood up then looked at her reflections from the mirror. With blotched eyes and red cheeks, she was indeed a mess. But this was not an appropriate time for her to wallow.

"Tikki!" she called. "Transforme moi!"

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The only word that was looping on Adrien's mind as he walked along the hallway was Marinette.

He was sick and worried that he left her all alone, despite promising himself not to let her go.

He must return to her side immediately, and once he did, he would dedicate himself to be with her, even if it would take him a lifetime - whether she liked it or not.

Two men were guarding his back, and another two on his side. They didn't put any restraints on him since he would never dare to leave the place without their hostage. And if he would fight them to escape, there'd be no guarantees on Marinette's safety.

Oh, how he misses the warmth of her hands.

She trusted him, so he must get over with his pesky feelings in order to fulfill his promise.

"Can - can I use a toilet?" he meekly asked one of the men. "I - I can't hold it anymore."

The man looked at his companions, and with an affirmed nod, they went inside an empty room.

"This way." the man commanded as he opened the door. "Don't make us wait."

"Su - sure."

Upon entering inside and securing the locks, Plagg flew out from his jacket.

His kwami might be a jerk sometimes, but he wasn't insensitive.

"Just say the magic words, kid."

"Plagg!" he announced. "Transforme moi!"