Chapter Text

The dew on the grass was cold, it was a rare occasion that Marinette was able to draw before class. Her ‘extracurricular activities’ took away from her many passions. She sighed as she looked it, today was relaxing, no bad guys, no Chloe problems, and class was understandable.

“Today’s been great,” she said down to her purse. Tikki, her little Kwaii peeked out.

“You’re right! There hasn’t been any trouble for a few days now, hasn’t there?” she giggled. “I almost miss being Ladybug with you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she laughed. “It’s been a nice break, huh.” She closes her sketch pad and stands up as Alya walks up behind her. They smile and wave at one another, and start walking down the side walk.

“Hey Mari, I hear Adrien is taking photos today for the new spring fashion by Gabriel.” Alya says smoothly. Marinette perks up and fails at trying to hide her excitement. “I hear that he may be in a bathing suit.” Alya smirks.

“Why are we just standing here!!” Marinette squeeks.

“We’re walking hun”.

“Not fast enough!”

The two girls hasten their pace. Alya laughing at her best friend, whom is trying to contain herself.

“Slow down girl, I can barely breathe.” Alya chokes, Marinette grabs her wrist and drags her. As she turns around, she slams into a guy with his head in a map that’s upside down.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry. I didn’t see you,” he says, in a foreign Language. Both girls look up at him, and at each other and back at him. “Oh… how embarrassing… Bonjour” he nervously says.

“Hi...? the girls reply.

“I’m new here, in France I mean.” He says in fluent French, “Well Paris... I should be more specific… My name is Jordan by the way.”

“Oh, you’re a foreigner?” Alya laughs, “You speak good French.” She smiles softly. Jordan offers his hand to Marinette who is still stunned by the crash. She stares blankly at him. He is literally the most beautiful person she has ever seen, past Adrien. He was tall, taller than both of the girls, he has flowing brown hair that had a hint of blond through the sunlight. He had soft, faintly glowing green eyes and a face sculpted by Greek Gods. He was also very well built, his designer shirt nearly looked painted on him. He looked a lot older then both girls.

She took his hand and he helped her up, however, blood rushed out of her head and she nearly fell again. He caught her laughing slightly. “You ok...?” he asked

“Marinette,” Alya says, trying to hold back an enormous grin, “I am Alya.”

“Pleased to meet the both of you.” Marinette slowly regained her balanced and tried not to show her blushing face. “Could you two tell me where Collège Françoise Dupont is?” he asks them, the girls look at each other, Alya giving in and smiling super wide.

“It’s over there a few Kilometers,” Alya points behind her, “We just got out of class a few hours ago.”

“Oh… crap I missed my first day then huh.” Jordan frowns.

“Explains the empty seat… huh Marinette.” Marinette nods, the seat was behind her.

“Oh no… is there anything I need for class tomorrow?” Jordan asks quickly. Alya nudges Marinette and she jumps.

“WE’RE ON CHAPTER 3...” Marinette practically shouts, “…of this book…” She holds out her French book avoiding eye contact. Both Jordan and Alya giggle alittle.

“Thank you very much.” Jordan smiles softly, gingerly taking the book that Marinette extended toward him. “Say… could I trouble you two for a tour de France…” he smirks making a pun about a bike race he and his father watch every year. “I’ll buy you both your favorite Ice cream… granted you’ll have to lead the way there.” He nervously scratches the back of his head. Alya looks at Marinette and raises an eyebrow.

“S-sure… I… we would love to!” Marinette struggles to get out. Alya smirks.

“Well Mr. Jordan, where have you been?” she asks as the two girls take the lead throughout Paris.

“Haha, I have no idea… the airport?” He replies. Alya nudges Marinette again, giving her the, ‘score!’ look. Marinette returns with a very nervous thumbs up. The three of them go everywhere, the Louvre, the Trocadero, the Pantheon and ending around the Eiffel tower. The whole time Alya talked, Marinette stayed as silent as Alya would allow, she commonly would have her try to talk about her favorite parts of the sights of Paris. She was too nervous, which was confusing to her because she only ever felt this way around Adrien.

“So Mr. Jordan, what do you think about Paris? Better then America right?” she teased.

“Whoa, let’s not go there.” Jordan laughs, “But I do know I am going to love this city.” He looks around smiling. Both girls slightly gawking. “So I believe I owe the both of you ice cream, or gelato...?” he furrows his eyebrows trying to think of what they have in France.

“Gelato is Italian.” Marinette laughs, deciding to take the lead. She leads the way to her favorite Ice cream parlor close by. They walk in and start standing in line. A louder guy was ahead of them with a gorgeous girl on his arm. Jordan rolled his eyes when he saw that guy

“…Hey Dad…” he says in English. The man spins around beaming.

“Jordan!” he says rather loudly as he walked toward them. He was taller than Jordan by about two inches, had snow white hair and blood red eyes. He was super pale, like he was a vampire or at least never seen the sun before. He too wore very nice designer clothes, nothing Marinette or Alya had ever seen before. He was comparably beautiful to Jordan, but older, and his complexion made him that much more intriguing. He wasn’t as built as Jordan, but he defiantly was someone you wouldn’t mind having him in a fight.

“Marinette, Alya… This is my Father, Lance Leon… he’s… albino.” Jordan said to the girl in French, they both looked back and forth. “We talk to each other in English, which makes things confusing some times.”

“Right, I had an old friend like that at my last school.” Alya replied.

“So… Dad, what brings you here… or even out for that matter.” Jordan drops on Lance.

“I’ll have you know I’m on a Date. What about you?” He looks down at Jordan and between both girls. “Why is it you’re always surrounded by women when I find you.” He smirked.

“Not funny…” Jordan slides, he notices their company getting uncomfortable, not being able to understand what they are talking about. “We should limit English to important stuff...”

“Speaking of I have a job for you.” Lance hands Jordan a manila envelope thick with its contents. He opens it slightly and looks inside, a photo of an older gentlemen, some documents and a CD.

“A CD...?” he says in French, “It’s been ages since I have seen one, let alone used one.” He snickered. He glances at the back of the CD before putting it back.

“Got it?”

“Consider it done.”

Lance smiles softly, “it was a pleasure to meet the two of you girls. Please, visit whenever.” He nods and then returns to his spot in line. Jordan crams the envelope in his bag and swings it back over his shoulder.

“What was that about?” Marinette asks, her curiosity boiling.

“Oh, my father wants me to know more about where we go and such, so he has me do research on famous places and such.” Jordan replies, he smiles at Marinette. “Thanks to you two, this will be a lot easier." Marinet instantly blushes and smiles stupidly.

“N-no need to thank us… it was our pleasu… I mean it was... awesome... and fun!” Marinette stumbled, she hid behind a huge grin.

“Your father seems nice.” Alya changes the topic. “I take it you guys are super close.”

“Well, yeah. Its complex. We design clothes sometimes, more of a hobby turned business.” Jordan starts as they get to the front counter. “hold that thought.” He looks up at the menu scanning for his favorite. Marinettes gawks at him, ‘I bet he designed his clothes, and his fathers too.’ Alya whispered.

“You guys wouldn’t happen to have marshmallow cream would you.” The clerk looks like he insulted his linage. “Uhhh… I’ll have mint then.” The girls giggle and order theirs.

They take a seat near a window looking out at the Eiffel tower. “So… It’s just my Dad and I, I never met my mom, at least not that I can remember.” He scoops ice cream into his mouth. “My past is Vague, even to me, what I do know is boring, mostly just learning and stuff. I’ve always excelled at school and some sports, and I’ve been in modeled since I could walk. My Dad recently got a line of clothes, after making our own for years. Pretty much we discovered a new textile that’s pretty indestructible and still looks awesome. It’s taken off recently but we aren’t known for that for say.” He smirked as he scooped some of his ice cream into his mouth.

“Because of how versatile I am, my Dad once joked I was made in a lab.” He gives his cup of mint Ice cream a very stern look. “I believed him until I was about thirteen too.” He chuckled as he looked up at the girls, Marinette, sitting across from him, gave an awkward laugh.

“I’ve traveled the world, spending time in most of the big places, Beijing, Tokyo, New York, Dubai. All for various reason, my Dad is the owner of a huge international business that operates around the world, mostly in improving other big businesses. I commonly call him ‘Big Brother’.” He looks between them hoping they got his reference. “It’s an American term meaning he’s the boss of everything… He’s always somehow been the ace of all he does, he just seems to pick up something and do it for the first time as if it has been a lifelong passion. Because of this he is well respected in his world, it’s very difficult to find any slander against him that isn’t light hearted.” Jordan pauses to eat more Ice cream. “He says the same about me, but I don’t see it.” He smiles. “But enough about me, tell me about you guys.”

After everyone said their good byes and split their separate ways. Jordan headed straight toward his new target. He pulled off his bag and pulled out the envelope and a pair of black head phones with Cat ears on the headband. He placed them on his over his ears and pulled out the picture, studying it again and again. He switched on some music and quickened his pace.

“Bury…” He muttered. His pupils dilated and his iris started glowing a dim green. His face faded into emotionless, and his overall appearance went ridged. He had one thing on his mind, the target, and everything else went grey. He passed faceless people, in a soundless environment, blocked out by his music. Everyone flowed passed him, as if he was wading through water. A rally was gathering.

He played the CD out in his mind, with just a glance he read its entire contents. ‘It’s fun being me some times.’ He thought to himself, as he put the photo away, swinging his bag back over his shoulder. The CD contained information about the rally, his known associates, supporters and buildings nearby. He crossed a busy street flooded with people, out of the corner of his eye he saw the man in the picture, standing on a stage, surrounded by his colleagues. Smirking he walked toward a taller, unfinished building, evading eyesight.

“…We will rebuild Paris!” The man shouted into his microphone. The rally around him cheered, chanting his name and short slogan which loosely translated to ‘war with the tyranny’. “…with your support, these, so called ‘Crusaders of Justice’ will never set foot on French soil!” the crowd erupted.

Jordan paused just outside the building, the man’s speakers were so loud they pierced through Jordan’s music. Strange red flowers lined the stage, the man having one pinned to his suit coat. ‘that’s a lot of Lycoris flowers.’ Jordan thought, ‘He does not have anything to hide does he. He turned and entered the building.

“…We oppose those who stand against our foundation…” His words echoing through the unfinished walls, “… We oppose those who want to crush our foundation…” Jordan entered a hallway leading to several open rooms. ‘No glass… that makes things easier.’ He thought passing each door way, searching for the perfect view.

“… These villains’ have come to take away our way of life…” Jordan entered a small room at the corner of the building, a large, wide tree conveniently just under the line of view to the stage. “… they are invaders! Strangers to our land… they want to rule over us as Tyrants!”

“How Ironic that he is against tyranny.” Jordan muttered to himself as he stood in a dark, unfinished room. He pulled his backpack off unzipping the back most pouch. He pulled out several metal pieces and carefully assembled them into a short barrel, silenced rifle. He walked into the center of the room while attaching a scope. He pulled out the papers Lance gave him.

“…Nicholas Fontaine, French born terrorist, known for ‘Silencing’ people who oppose him, convicted but never found guilty of several acts of murder, espionage, sabotage and terrorism. He must be eliminated before the upcoming Parliamentary election. Its reasonable to believe he is tied to the international terrorist group ‘Lycoris’ which would explain his quick rise to power. He will be found at… with a reward of…” Jordan read softly. He put the papers back in the envelope and back in his bag. He pulled out a single, long bullet and placed it in the chamber. He gently raised his weapon and taking aim.

“… I have done much for my people, sacrificing everything, for you… the common man…” Cameras aimed at his face. All of Paris could be watching, or at least those who cared. Fontaine paused, looking up, almost as if he saw Jordan. He stared unknowingly, directly at him.

“Well Mr. Fontaine, I hope your soul was worth it…” Jordan breathed as he pulled the trigger. Several very long seconds passed. Time stood still as the bullet traveled. The crowd turned ugly, fast. Their leader assassinated in front of them, now lying in his own blood. Jordan stood up disassembling his gun in no time at all. Swiftly putting it away, taking special care to not leave a trace.

His associates abandoned him on stage, scattering in all different directions. Each of them having a bounty set by the one who hired Jordan. They knew someone was on to them and were afraid of getting shot themselves. Of being discovered, their acts being brought to unwanted light. He died instantly, Nicolas Fontaine. The flowers on his coat wilted, slowly losing its petals, a soft breeze carrying them away.

Jordan slipped down the stairs, faint steps in the background. He must have been seen. He hurried as he found a missing wall he previously scoped, people frantically running past it. He slipped through it disappearing into the stream of people. He looked back in, seeing dark figures running through the building. He smirked, returning his focus to his path.

“ He pulled out his phone and dialed an unknown number.

“Yes?” the voice transmitted to his headphones

“Are you watching the news?” Jordan replied, he walked calmly as people ran past him.

“Yes… Good work.” The Voice sounded very pleased. “The money has been wired to your account.”

“Oh, my, GOSH!!” Alya shouted, “How often do you run into a totally hot, foreign, classy guy who just wants to hang out and tour Paris… and is in OUR CLASS?” she shakes Marinette.

“Not often…” Marinette replies, she was oddly composed. “He was really nice, kinda odd but really nice.” She laughed at Alyas enthusiasm.

“Well, I’m just excited for tomorrow, hopefully it wasn’t just a day dream or something.” The girls arrive at Marinettes house, they had planned earlier to do some homework, but decided to just chat until Alya needed to go home. They walked in and saw a very somber Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng watching breaking new on the T.V.

“Go to your room Marinette…” Sabine says softly, fear in her voice.

“… Fontaine of Parliament was assassinated today in what seems like an acy of local terrorism…” the news reporter stated.

“Oh please! He was a terrorist!” Tom shouted at the T.V. “this so called act of terrorism was a godsend.”

“Tom please…” Sabine begged, “It’s wrong to speak ill of the dead…” She said softly. “Not in front of the Children… We don’t know his intentions and for all we know it was…” A picture of Nicolas Fontaine shown on the screen. Marinettes blood ran cold. That was the Picture in the packet that Jordan was given at the ice cream shop. ‘it’s just a coincidence…’ she told herself over and over again.

“…This just in…” the room fell silent. “… Reports have surfaced reveling several dark secrets about Fontaine and his business practices…” the new went on and on about how he had embezzled millions, murdered hundreds, and committed several acts of treason against the French parliament, in order to ensure his place in power.

“See… I told you… he was bad.” Tom said, his voice very somber.

“…This man… was in power…” Sabine said softly. Alya dragged Marinette to her room and shut the trap door.

“Sorry… I don’t handle things like that too well…” She trailed off. “Tragedy is not my cup of tea.” Marinette nodded.

“Well that was a mood killer…” she sighed.

“Atleast who ever got that guy saved us from a possible uprising.” Alya said leaning against Marinettes desk. “We all know Paris has seen her fair share of Tyrants.” Both girls giggled alittle. The air lightened a little as the subject changed to Adrien. Marinette started a search to see if the pics were posted of the shoot she missed today, Alya rolled her eyes

"I'll start planning your guy's wedding." She says sarcastically

"I like Red, Black and Green." Marinette replied, not even phased by Alya's comment. "And you can never go wrong with Chocolate cake." She turned laughing.

“looks like you’re a French hero now bro-seph” Lance called out to Jordan as he walked through the door. He was in the front room painting. The T.V. on in the back ground.

“Not my intention.” He called back, “And not interested”

“OK Cloud.” Lance replied. “How was your date?”

“Oh please, they were just locals.” Jordan walked in the main room setting down his bag and taking off his headphones.

“The one had a Mystical artifact.”

“Didn’t say they weren’t the ones I was looking for.”

“Well there are three more right?” Lance sets down his paint brush and turns to Jordan.

“That’s what the Database said… one of them is using their Artifact for evil though.”

“You think it’s her?” Lance furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Jordan.

“Does a ketchup covered banana taste good?” He pulled out the disassembled parts of his rifle and placed them on a cloth on the table.

“Very funny.” Lance snorted, “so when are you gonna tell her you are the creator of her mystical artifact?”

“I’m not, Atlas is.” Jordan looked up at him smiling.

“You and your secret identity.”

“Oh, yeah, ok… LANCE.” Jordan chuckled.

“What. Am I not allowed to have a human name? At least I’m not named after the Author”

“Touché.” Jordan said, very confused. “What…?” he whispered to himself.

“Besides, I look like a Lance.” He stands up and boisterously poses.

“Please you look like a crappy vampire book character come to life.” Jordan said over cleaning the various parts of his gun.

“Cept I have more character, and not obsessed with an ugly girl who can’t act.” Lance smirk widely. “Anyways… we need you to focus, were not here for you to chase French girls.” Jordan shoots the dirtiest look at Lance, who stated laughing, remembering he too was caught with a girl. “We… are here to stop those ‘Lycoris’ guys, close the access points and sort out the possible ‘Grand weapon: legion’ threat.” He walked over to the couch, picked up the remote and shut off the T.V.

“Right, we just, you know, have more then the average High school students work, or nation for that matter.” Jordan got up and walked to the fridge, pulling out a few bottles of a lightly glowing blue drink. “… And all before more trouble shows up.”

“Well moths like flame, and were one hell of a fire.” Lance said softly. “You don’t have to be 15 you know.” Jordan handed him one of the bottles.

“Well the ball is rolling, plus it would be weirder for me to befriend them as a 23-year-old.”

“And illegal in most countries.” Lance smirks, “not like that’s stopped you before. Alex is how old?...”

“Shut it!” Jordan slammed, opening his drink.

“What’s gonna happen if this French-Asian girl finds out the new Hot guy in her class is a near omnipotent, timeless, multi-magical, hyper intelligent…” Jordan cleared his throat loudly. “… guy who created her mystical artifact?”

“Well, I could do a lot of things, but since that isn’t going to happen, I’m just gonna let her wonder about me.”

“Girls love a good mystery.”

“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, I didn’t come here to get a date, nor do I want one.” Jordan stands up and marches to his room. “Good night.”

“Good night my angst-y little angel.” Lance sings.