Trahison

Chapter 9

I really hope you guys will be satisfied with this chapter (not to mention that it's pretty dark, so wearing for those people who can't take in violence, death, and bloodshed—though not to worry, it won't be too graphic or anything.), take your time reading people, this chapter is not to be rushed. Please, enjoy:

Ladybug

I perched on the edge of the window, catching in on the remnants of a conversation before looking onto Chat Blanc attacking Hawkmoth openly. Holding back the urge to scream out his name, I noticed Léa had shied away from everything and backed herself up into a corner of the room, with a petrified and confused look clear on her face. Gulping, I forced my line of sight back to Chat.

He was attacking with clear precision and each of his strikes were so quick that it was almost just a blur to my vision. But Hawkmoth was unfortunately managing to still hold out by himself, and that was when I knew I had to step in. Taking a deep breath, I jumped down into the room.

I rushed forwards and started to fight alongside Chat, thrusting my yo-yo and entrusting that almost every hit counted as much as it could. But then Hawkmoth met my eye, and he leered.

The fighting suddenly ceased.

There was a grunt of pain from Chatblanc, and that grunt became a groan. He collapsed to the floor, keeping a deathly grip on his baton as he crouched and his face twisted in agony. His free hand was clutching at his chest in his kneeled position, whilst Hawkmoth watched on with a emotionless expression.

My hand flew up to my mouth and I rushed over to try and help if I could, to try and somehow lessen the pain he must've been feeling at that moment. My hand that wasn't clenching my yo-yo flew towards him in anxiety for his health. But as soon as my hand touched his shoulder, everything about him stilled, frozen in time and taut with tension. My heart caught in my throat.

His eyes snapped open.

And I barely managed to react when his baton swiped at me.

Oh for the love of my mother's sweet croissants.

I threw my yo-yo at him to block his next strike, and did the same for his next. I ducked under another throw and slipped through behind him, just managing to buzz up my yo-yo into a shield by swinging it round fast when he dove in for another attack. Before I even had room to breathe, his baton slammed an millimetre away from my foot and I jumped back in alarm only just in time. He split the stick into two and threw them towards me — like Australian boomerangs towards a kangaroo — and I only just managed to duck, a trail of air from the force of how fast the halved baton scorching my face and taking away my balance. His second flying missile scraped past my neck, leaving a good burn mark there.

Falling onto my butt, my feet all tripped over each other, I let out a yelp at the close call that landed behind me when I swivelled away on the smooth concrete ground. "Fight it Chat! You know you don't want to hurt me!" I shrieked, but had to save my breath as he began to pick up the pace of the fight. I threw myself up, knowing that this was going nowhere if I couldn't attack, and I definitely could not do that sitting around on the floor all day. I, however, was still caught in staying on defence, and couldn't get a single hit anywhere, whereas he had started to get under my guards, earning me a couple of bruises that would last.

I figured that by the sound of my own panting and aching muscles, even as a superhero, I couldn't keep this up for any longer, while Chatblanc could probably last all day.