Our Tale As Old As Time

Chapter 11

         Chat Noir sighed as he watched the trees bend and the leaves blow in the courtyard below. Plagg, in his panda bear form, sitting right beside him for company. They lacked conversation, but that didn't bother either of them. The silence was bliss. A calm serenity before the storm that was yet to be unleashed, at least so he thought. He didn't know what part of the story they were at now. Chat was so lost in thoughts of his own sorrows as they ran around aimlessly looking for the answers that were so far out of reach it was pointless to try to and force them down so he could begin to evaluate them. What more was a teenage boy to do when his emotions were right in front of him and not bottled up deep down like they usually were? What was he to do right now anyway except wait?

"Um.......Adrien?"Plagg's voice caused Chat to prick his ears, though he was yet to hear the urgency in the kwami's tone.

"Yeah Plagg?" His eyes didn't move from their spot continuing to stare at the cement that made up the balcony railing where he sat.

"We have an issue!" Plagg hollered jumping up to his feet and pointing out into the distance.

"What are you talking about Plagg?" It still hadn't registered in Chat's mind that Plagg was trying to get him to refocus his attention quickly. Seeing that his friend was pointing, Chat Noir turned his head towards the open fields. "Plagg, I don't know wha......." From the corner of his eye he caught the small blur of orange lights in the forest trees. Chat immediately snapped out of his pouty trance. That's right! He had sent Marinette back to the village! That meant that Gaston was on his way with a plot to kill him. Jumping to his feet he began to think of what to do next. "Plagg, go downstairs and help the rest of the furniture!" That was a bizarre statement, nevertheless, they had work to do. Plagg saluted the boy before jumping off the rail and hobbling out of the room downstairs. With the addition of Plagg it would be easy for the house wares to defeat the villagers. That just left Gaston, which Chat alone had to take on. Chat wasn't worried, at least he thought he wasn't. Who was he kidding? He was Chat Noir! This would be a synch. Right? Oh camembert, it didn't matter what type of fight he would put up. Chat sank back down into his previous seat. He would win the first round but not the second. In every version of Beauty and the Beast, the beast dies. He was going to die, and the only way he could be brought back was if Marinette admitted to truly falling in love with him. Based on their last conversation, there was no chance of that happening, he was as good as dead. Even so, didn't he have to truly love Marinette back too? At this point he wasn't sure. Her statements made complete sense. There was no way of knowing if their current attraction to each other had to do with the storyline or because they legitimately loved each other. Either way, they were screwed. It would take true feelings to break out of the fairytale, not fake ones spoken for the same purpose. Chat sat quietly alone, his ears strong enough to pick out the hoofbeats of Gaston's horse as it trotted along the trail up to the castle, progressively getting louder with their chant of "kill the beast!". Gee, thanks for the reminder. He wasn't scared to die; he was just disappointed that this was the way he was going out. It wasn't ideal, but who really gets to choose their own fate anyway? The soft smell of rain caught his nose as the droplets began to splatter on the bricks of the castle. He wanted to think that the skies were crying for him, and technically in Disney movies, they were, but understanding the cinematic tactic didn't settle the uneasiness he felt within. In reality rain didn't add anything to a moment, it was just there. Rain over special scenes was only in movies, and though this was a fairytale, it was his reality right now making the water next to nothing at this point. As long as he ignored the fact that it was making his body grow cold. His muscles quivered as he shook the water off. The droplets pattered at a steady rhythm, off beat with the song that bellowed below him, but rhythmic, nonetheless. He heard the castle doors smashed open downstairs, everything was mere moments from going down and Chat found a new determination in himself to go down with the hardest fight possible. Regardless, he knew he was going to lose, but he decided that he wasn't going to make it easy for Gaston. In a real situation, not that this wasn't, he wouldn't let anyone strike him down, so why should this be any different? Chat Noir was going to fight, and he was going to fight his way, with everything he had. Standing up, the boy slinked into the shadows to await the arrival of the egotistical hunter of animals and pretty girls. The west wing grew eerily silent aside from the precipitation and the minor echoes of the battle that raged in the main hall. Chat's emerald eyes were glued to the doorway, his focus sharp and pinpointed. Patiently he listened to the broken and lifeless grandfather clock ticking away at the minutes in the corner, bringing the oncoming event ever closer as it did so. With nothing better to do as he waited, Chat began to count. One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight.. The numbers increased with the anticipation of a figure in the door frame. His fear decreasing and his anger burning from the inside out. He desperately wanted to get this over with. He was starting to get tired of being trapped here, it was getting old, fast. Clearly, he was beginning to get wrapped up in his thoughts again. Being in a fairytale should have been a dream come true, and at first it seemed to be just that, but now, Chat wanted nothing more than to be back in his own story. The story where he followed Ladybug around Paris defeating odd super villains. Where he went to school with Marinette as Adrien Agreste and not one person knew he was the famed superhero in black leather risking it all to save them. For days that reality seemed so far away and he was beginning to miss it. Chat never thought that he would ever feel homesick, but that's what he was feeling in this moment, homesick.

"Where is that lousy feline!?" This was it. Gaston was here. Chat glanced at the man. He was ripped and you could tell, regardless of the dark, not that it hindered Chat anyway. His feline abilities allowed him to see in the dark. Gaston already had his bow out and ready to fire, fury burning on his face as he scanned the room looking for him. A cheshire grin spread across Chat's face as he took a breath. It was show time.

"You looking for me?" Chat asked the teasing tone in his voice sharp as it covered up a tense vibe in the room. He twirled his tail with his hand as he picked up a metal pole and rested it on his shoulder. It wasn't his baton, but it would be a decent replacement.

"Who's there!? Where are you!?"

"Well that's a dumb question. I'm Chat Noir." Using his bent knee Chat pushed himself off the wall and stepped into the center of the room, exposing himself to the light. "And I believe you're the idiot that thinks killing me will gain the affections of my princess." He knew his words were on point and he would have been lying if he didn't admit that seeing Gaston's astonished expression was satisfying. This guy was dumber than he looked, well outside plotting and scheming stupid plots to win over a girl that was always rejecting him. Wait a minute. Was that a hypocritical statement? No, Chat didn't scheme. Sure, he had some dumb ideas trying to win over Ladybug when she clearly wasn't interested in him that way, but that was in his past. He liked Marinette now, at least he thought he did.

"We'll see about that! After this fight you'll be a stuffed cat that stands in the corner of my room." Yikes! That didn't sound appealing at all.

"Bring it on." Chat Noir was so ready for a good fight. He'd had his time off, now it was time to get back in the game. On the other hand, his life, kinda sorta not really, depended on this skirmish. The young man braced his stance as he got down into his own iconic hero pose. The duel had commenced. Gaston took the first shot, releasing his arrow with ease. Thankfully, Chat was an expert in the arts of dodging and just as easily preformed his first move.

"Hold still!" Gaston commanded as he tried to aim his bow. Chat had leapt up and grabbed onto the chandelier. He was amazed the thing didn't collapse to the floor with his weight, but at the same time grateful it didn't.

"That defeats the purpose of a fair fight. Besides isn't it more fun to take a target down when their guard is down?" The inquiry meant little to Gaston apparently, as he shot another arrow toward the ceiling. It just barely flew past Chat's arm as it made its way into the ceiling. Cracks in the ceiling emerged, loosening the ceiling's hold of the chandelier. Oh camembert. The fixture crashed to the floor leaving Chat Noir with split seconds to jump as the glass shattered into bits. A simple tuck and roll helped him to land on his feet and remain low with the ability to spring up again if Gaston's shot was aimed low. It wasn't his turn to make the blows. Cats are good pouncers, but they needed to stalk their prey first. Chat Noir had mastered the skill and just needed to wait for his chance. There was only one thing left that he had to do before he had the upper hand, separate Gaston from his weaponry.