Chapter Text

Adrien slumped in his chair and glanced at his two friends.

He’d been able to convince Alya to hear him out with a little help from Nino (in other words, Nino blocking a door frame to hold Alya back while Adrien blurted everything out in a desperate bid save his life) that forming an S.S. legion was not his idea, and certainly not his desire.

Nino, being the true friend that he was, had backed him up, even though he hadn’t been there when Adrien’s unit was slaughtered, and between them, they’d been able to calm Alya down enough to listen to his side of the story.

“So, it’s your father’s idea?”

“Must be, as far as he’s concerned the Germans have the right idea and if I’m in the S.S. it’ll discredit me as a “hero” of the people.”

“But you are a hero Adrien.”

“No, I damn well wasn’t! I couldn’t even look after my men! I could have fought on and let them retreat!”

“You weren’t to know what’d happen!”

“ENOUGH!!!” both men flinched at Alya’s furious roar. “Adrien, is there no way you can get out of this?”

“No”

“Then we make the most of it! Nino and I were talking about this before you arrived. You’re both ex-army and if you’re in the German H.Q. you can pass intelligence onto us!”

“But I don’t want to help the enemy!”

“It’s an act Adrien, put on your model smile, be your courteous self and be as unhelpful as you can get away with!”

*sigh* “Alright Alya, but on one condition!”

“What?”

“I get to take part in any attacks all right? I’m not going to sit back and let you lot take the risks!”

“Didn’t think you would! Welcome to the resistance!”

Wait wait wait guys” Nino broke in. “Two things. Firstly, are we really serious about this? If so, the second thing, and far more important in my opinion, what’s our group name?”

“You can’t be serious Nino? Who cares?”

“I care, I’m not going to be called a terrorist thank you very much!”

“He has a point Alya.”

“Thanks, man”

“Any time mon ami!”

“Well, it’d be a miracle if this group survives long, so what’s the…”

“THAT’S IT!!!”

“What is?!”

“The Miraculous 3!”

“Nino, that tells the Germans how many of us there are.”

“Oh”

Marinette collapsed on her cot with a sigh, her eyes dragging closed. She felt her head was going to explode with all the information being crammed into it. Radio operations, how to handle and lay explosives, how to pass make forged papers, how to kill.

She sighed, what was the point of all this anyway? All she knew was that she’d probably sent to Europe (please please please may if be Paris!) to gather intelligence. Not blowing things up!

It didn’t help that classes were run at random times so she could be woken up at any time and pushed through some test or other.

As sleep began to close in, Marinette’s mind slowly turned to her family. She’d heard that London was suffering greater bombings since the Battle of Britain had been won. Were her parents all right? Her world was growing soft and hazy with sleep when the door crashed open and German soldiers burst in. She tried to fight but before she could even get to her feet she was pinned down, her eyes covered and was dragged shrieking from the room, the harsh, barking voices of the soldiers filling her ears as she was hauled into darkness.

“So, you came to senses?”

“Yes father.”

“Good, go see Nathalie, she will show you your uniform.”

“Yes father.”

Adrien sank to the floor, his back against the door, the field grey SS uniform lying on his bed, taunting him. He sighed but suddenly gasped as something dug into his side.

Reaching into his jacket he felt a small box he was sure hadn’t been there before.

Pulling it out he inspected the palm-sized black, hexagonal box. He was certain he’d never picked up something like that.

But then again, this was a box and Adrien was nothing if not curious, however, no sooner had the box opened then a flash of green light engulfed his hand, blinding him for a moment as he tried to shield his eyes.

“Well well well, this looks interesting!” the voice was high-pitched and slightly nasally and instantly put Adrien on alert!

As he blinked the spots from his vision, Adrien was sure he was going made, there floating in front of him was a tiny black cat, its eyes the richest green he’d ever seen, and on top of all that it was talking!

“So, you’re the new chosen eh? Not bad not too bad, least you’re not some alley kid!”

“wh..what are you?”

“Name’s Plagg kid! Congrats You’ve been chosen. This means you put on that ring there, save the world yadda yadda yadda and most important of all, you provide cheese!”

“Wha… Cheese?!”

“Yep, Camembert!”

“Why?”

“Kid, just put on the ring!”

“Err right.”

“Now repeat after me, Claws out”

“Claws out!”

Adrien flinched as green light swamped his body, tight black leather encasing his body.

“Mon dieu!”

“Ahh, Herr Agreste, so glad you could make it.”

“Of course, Herr Standartenführer, a pleasure. You’ve met my son?”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,”

Adrien smiled his toothiest model smile as he shook the man’s hand, Knochen’s fingers trying to crush his own. An unspoken challenge was met and Adrien struggled to hide a smirk as Knochen was the first to avert his eyes.

As he went to pull his hand away however, Knochen tightened his grip. “That is certainly an interesting ring you are wearing monsieur Agreste,” he smiled thinly, his eyes appraising Adrien. “If you don’t mind my asking, why a paw print?”

Adrien felt his features freeze and the burning gaze of his father focused on the back of his head. Suddenly his Standartenführer uniform was too tight. The swastikas seeming to sear through the cloth. The smug smirk on Knochen’s face filled his vision as he attempted to wrest back control of the conversation.

“Purely a whim, Herr Standartenführer,” he purred, “But I find it suits me well.”

Knochen looked as if he wanted to question further, but obviously he decided against it as he switched topics.

“I was interested to note monsieur Agreste that you were a Capitaine in the cavalry during the invasion.”

“Yes” Adrien grimaced, “I was.”

“You were wounded?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that will stop you from forming a legion?”

“No.”

“Adrien, address the Standartenführer properly!”

“My apologies, no Herr Standartenführer”

Knochen’s smile widened and he burst out in deep laughter. “I think we will work well together monsieur Standartenführer. You’re of proud Aryan stock and a hard fighter! You’ll do your country and the Reich proud!”

Fighting the bile in his throat, Adrien raised his glass, “I certainly intend to,” he smiled.

“And I’ll see you burn” he swore in his mind. “I’ll fight for France, not you!”

“Now then Miss Dupain-Cheng”, spat the chief interrogator, “Who was your contact?”

“I don’t know,” gasped Marinette, her sobs echoing through the cellar, “My name is Bridgette Sourcoffe!”

“Lies!”

“It’s not! I don’t know what you want!”

“Give us the information!”

“But I don’t know anything!”

“Very well, Guards! Bring her here!”

“Wha…What are you doing?”

“Take off her hood!”

“where… no don*splash*”

Marinette fought her instinct to scream as her head was forced into the bucket of water. She had to hold her breath, she wasn’t going to die like this, not without having done something!

As her lungs began to burn her head was yanked out, her lungs barely sucking in a teaspoonful of beautiful air before she was shoved in again. Her body tried to wriggle out of the iron grip of the two guards but it wasn’t enough. Her vision swam and her lungs screamed in agony when she was yanked out again.

This went on for what seemed like hours before she was thrown roughly to the stone floor and a guard began to beat her, she just curled into a ball, desperate to shield herself, not noticing the hits weren’t as strong as they could be, and were only landing in certain areas. Finally, exhaustion claimed her and her body relaxed as she lost consciousness.

“Hmm, that took longer than I thought,” hummed the interrogator, his upper-class English accent at odds with his German uniform. “Have to say though, I think she passed with flying colours.”

He turned to the two guards, “Put her back in her dorm, she still has classes in the morning, but I think she’s almost ready.”

Once the guards had carried Marinette’s unconscious form up the stairs back towards her comfortable dorm, the officer turned, lighting a cigarette as he began to right a report on Agent Bridgette Sourcoffe, Codename, Ladybug.

“Citizens of Paris”, the city’s mayor intoned, “I have called this meeting so that our German allies may make a few announcements regarding security following the attacks these past few weeks.”

As the mayor droned on, Adrien scanned the audience, he could see Alya sitting amongst the reporters, even from this distance her distaste for the portly stateman speaking was plainly visible.

The speech was taking place at the foot of the Eiffel tower, the area surrounded by a ring of Gendarmes and German soldiers. Armoured cars and trucks were operating road blocks on all the surrounding streets. German field police with their dogs were making their way through the crowds.

Adrien chuckled to himself, all this security for a group that was only started a month ago. Their numbers had increased since that first meeting. Nathaniel, an artist had been recruited after the group found him painting anti-Nazi murals on walls all over the city. Alix had actually found them, a tomboy through and through she had proved to be a highly aggressive fighter and was helping to train the group with firearms on her wealthy family’s indoor range.

At the start, the groups attacks had been small, anti-Nazi posters or slogans on walls and parked trucks. The occasional stolen trucks (one ammunition truck was a very welcome find), and patrols being lead deep into the alleys of Paris only to find themselves picked off one by one.

However, as time progressed, things began to change. Firstly, Adrien began to stop attending the groups attacks, instead a shadowy creature with green eyes followed the group, and began to attack isolated German foot patrols. Another thing was Adrien telling the group not to kill German Wehrmacht troops, only Gestapo and SS. The reason for this was Adrien’s increasing responsibilities in the Paris headquarters. While not putting together a legion, he was closely involved with Wehrmacht officers and men, and had quickly come to a realisation. Most of the German soldiers weren’t entirely keen on the war or the Nazis, in fact, a number of them (who hadn’t realized he’d been listening in on their conversations) had made clear they just wanted to go home. Rather than killing these men, Adrien suggested that if the resistance showed a degree of restraint, some soldiers might be more open to dropping information.

While the new tactic had yet to reap rewards Adrien was confident it was only a matter of time. He’d revealed himself as Chat Noir to Nino but sworn him to secrecy, even from Alya to prevent her from trying to make Chat Noir too much of a figure head.

Suddenly, Adrien was jerked from his thoughts by an explosion at the edge of the park, a manhole cover blowing straight up into the underside of an armoured car. Civilians screamed and ran while Soldiers struggled to maintain order. Adrien played his part of the surprised officer, drawing his pistol he leapt of the stage and ran as best he could towards a nearby alley, shouting for contractionary orders to each soldier he passed, just to add to the confusion, he also loosed off a couple of shots into the air to cause more panic.

When he finally made it down the alley, he made a few turns to throw off any pursuit before making his way to the rendezvous with Nino.

“Adrien! Quick over here!”

“Right, ready?”

“You bet, I can’t wait to see their faces!”

“Me neither, Plagg, Claws out!”

“I’ll never get tired of watching that my friend!”

“hehehe, here goes nothing!”

Chat Noir grinned as he dropped onto the stage, sauntering up to the microphone his belt/tail swishing behind him, he tapped it once to test it before launching into his introduction!

“Citizens of Paris, my name is Chat Noir! I am here for one simple purpose, to defend the people of Paris from those who would do them harm! To the German occupiers, I say this, you are not welcome. You will never conquer our spirit and you will never conquer Paris!”

The stunned soldiers and police (and remaining journalists, including a furiously writing Alya) could only stare. Chat merely gave a two-fingered salute and using his baton to launch himself onto the roof tops, disappeared into the night.

Half an hour later, Standartenführer Agreste was found unconscious in an alley way. Later, in hospital, he told his superiors of being attacked by a black-clad, cat-like man who cornered him before striking him over the head.

Latest reports from Paris Ma’am.

“Good good, leave them here.”

“What, more reports of our “brave” Frog colleagues?”

“Most likely… Wait a moment”

“What is it?”

“this must be a bloody joke, cat-like monsters in Paris?”

“Let’s see… hmmmm, must be false reports. Wait a moment.”

“What?”

“Bring me “Bridgette’s” file!”

“You can’t just access agent’s files!”

“Watch me, ah here it is! Agreste! Our girl knew him before the war, was quite close to him judging by this!”

“So, what?”

“So, she needs to go! Get her prepped and on a Lysander within 36 hours!”

“Why?”

“There’s a growing resistance movement in Paris which is able to convince the Germans they’ve got a cat monster! We need to make contact as soon as possible! This Agreste is also in the SS, “Bridgette” can make contact!”

“Are you going to tell her that her old beau is SS?”

“Of course not! Get her on that damned flight!”

*knock knock*

“Miss?”

“hmmm… yes… what is it? *Yawn*”

“I know its late miss but you need to get up!”

“Right *yawn* what do I need to do?”

“Get dressed and back your case, there’s a car for you.”

Marinette’s blood froze. She was leaving, for Europe.

Her bag was packed (it had stayed packed for a month since she officially finished training) and getting dressed didn’t take long at all.

The car wound its way through dark country lanes, the thin slits of light from the covered headlights casting strange, ghostly shadows on the hedgerows they passed occasionally reflecting off the eyes of the occasional nocturnal animal.

Finally, the car slipped through a chain-link fence, the guards at the gate checked the drivers pass and waved them through without asking her for anything.

The airstrip was small, grass strip affair, Lysanders and other small aircraft parked neatly under camouflage netting, except one. That one aircraft sat at the end of the runway, its engine purring quietly.

Marinette climbed out of the car and was led by the driver to a small shack nearby where she was directed to put on warm coveralls over her clothes followed by a parachute harness and helmet.

She was ready, she was really going.

She was terrified.

Doors slammed, engines revved, wheels left the ground.

Doors opened. A silent pilot gave her a nod full of good wishes.

She was falling, falling, a snap, a pull and she was drifting, drifting drifting down.

Thud. Quickly gather up the chute, hurry to the supply tube.

Hushed voices, finger on a trigger.

Welcome to France mademoiselle.