Chat Noir was definitely a lucky fella to have had an officer assist his wound. He knew for a fact that no fool of a doctor would help a criminal like him.

What had surprised him the most was that the woman had once been a surgeon.

He knew to be in the medical field it took lots of schooling. By her late twenties, early thirties, she probably would've been graduating from college with that type of degree.

But the woman who had just mended his wound was younger than that. Twenty-four he guessed at the max.

So, how had she gone to school for both a degree in medical and in law enforcement?

Chat Noir was twenty-six, with no future ahead of him but to take what he could get. He never had the chance to finish high-school, and had never had the opportunity to start college.

His family was just too poor.

All his life he had struggled with money, and that's what started his stealing days. Once Chat Noir knew what he could do, he used his talents. Stealth and agility were his very best friends, allowing him to never get caught.

By never getting caught, Chat Noir had the advantage of getting whatever he needed... and later on wanted.

But, the woman he had interacted with twice, was different from all the other officers he'd outwitted. The first thing he noticed different about her was that she wasn't afraid of him. He really had admired her bravery.

"You're spacing out again," a voice spoke from behind, and Chat Noir immediately turned his head to the side to get a side glance of the intruder.

"What do you want?" Chat Noir practically spat as he turned his body around fully to eye the figure before him in disgust. "Leave me alone for once and let me drown in my own thoughts."

The man simply sighed, and asked with concern, "How is your arm?"

"It's fine, no thanks to you." Chat Noir scoffed.

The man crackled a laugh, "And where did you find someone who was stupid enough to help you?"

Of course, Chat Noir had been expecting these insults. "It is no one of your concern."

"I feel as if I already know," the man scoffed at that. "You associate yourself with the wrong people, Adrien. This is why you are who you are."

"Shut up," Chat Noir spat, lunging his body at the man. Both of them twisted and tumbled to the ground, and Chat pinned him down with all of his might, his claws making themselves perfectly visible as they hovered over the man's neck. "What happens to those who call me by that name?"

The man swallows heavily, "They d-die."

"Exactly," Chat sneered, before releasing the man he had pinned to the ground. Letting his prey stand to his feet, Chat added, "Do not call me by that name ever again. Are we clear?"

The man nodded shakily, "Y-Yes sir,"

"Now make yourself useful," Chat shooed his clawed hand in the man's direction. "What have you gathered from today?"

"About five other men have once again gone missing," the man responded shakily. "Kidnapped we suppose."

Chat growled from the horrific news and pounced towards the man again in anger. "What do you mean more men have been kidnapped? What happened to my security who were supposed to be guarding my perimeters?!"

"We don't know, sir!" The man cried out in fright. "They just vanished."

"Listen carefully," Chat Noir sneered, lifting one of his perfectly, sharp claws back to the man's neck. "If my mother vanishes as well, your head will be hanging on my wall."

The man nodded shakily, "Y-Yes sir."

"Now leave me be," Chat growled, shoving the man backwards so he that could stumble back on his own two feet. "Triple the security. I don't want to hear of anyone disappearing again."

"Yes sir!" The man replied, before scurrying our of the room Chat Noir had isolated himself in.

Chat Noir sighed and threaded his clawed fingers through his blonde locks in distress. With more and more of his own people vanishing from their base, Chat was anxious of his own mother vanishing from his eyes.

And he would not allow it.

He made his was down the steep staircase of the run down hotel. With fire once consuming it, they all lived in the burned ruins, because that was what they could afford. Because they had no where else to go. Climbing down to the room which occupied his mother, Chat slipped through the window that was slightly open to allow fresh air into the bedroom.

"Adrien?" His mother called out, as if she already knew it was him who had entered. "Is that you?"

Only she would be able to call him by that name. No one else. Only he would allow her to say it.

"Yes mother," Chat replied as he approached the side of her bed slowly. He reached out for her hand and laced their fingers together. "It's me, your son. How are you feeling tonight?"

He felt her squeeze his fingers. "I am as I always am, and always will be, Adrien. Sick to my bones." She coughed heavily, almost as if she was choking on fluids, and he hated the way she sounded.

"You will get better, mother." He insisted, hope laced in every word he spoke to her as he rubbed his thumb gently over her hand.

"I need a doctor son, and you know it." His mother coughed again, the sound of phlegm being stuck inside of her making his insides cringe. "You know I'm running on limited time."

Chat Noir shut his eyes tight and turned his head away from hers. He couldn't bear to hear his mother say that. He was hoping she would get better. He knew she would get better.

He couldn't lose hope. He just couldn't.

"Mother, I believe you will walk again." Chat Noir insisted as he brought her pale hand to his lips to kiss it. "You must believe, you must have hope."

"What hope?" Her eyes watered, and he could see the one tear that slipped down her cheek from the moonlight that shone into the room. "I'm dying, Adrien. Dying. There is no hope for one who is soon to pass."

"I believe there is," Chat Noir released her hand so he could stand to his feet. "I believe there is a way for you to become whole again. I believe you can get better again. But it will not be possible if you constantly fill your head with doubt, mother."

She sighed, and he knew she was tired of trying to convince him that her life was coming to an end.

But he was not going to believe it.

"Promise me..." Chat began to whisper, as he stared down at her frail body which was covered under the duvet of her bed. "...promise me you will have some hope in living. Just some. At least, for your own son."

She was silent for a moment before she stifled a cough, and replied with a weary smile, "I promise."

_______________________________

A little peek into Chat Noir's history.

Question #1:
Why do you think Chat Noir's 'people' are 'disappearing'?

Question #2:
Why do you think Chat Noir hates his real name?

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