Nothing but [BAD] luck

[16]

10,000 reads! What a landmark you guys.

Coming up: *Extreme gore warning. Like, a lot of gore.* If you get grossed out, well...you read it, I wrote it. Don't complain.

~✯~

/Too much talk\

Sakamo wasted no time and lunged onto Chat, twisting his arms to a point where his claws were nearly useless. Chat's muscles seethed as they pushed back, releasing his arms from Sakamo's deadly vice-like grip. The two tumbled through the empty hallways, slashing at one another and creating newfound openings that quickly filled with alarmingly dark red blood. But neither of them dared to let their guard down for even a moment. They had been in enough fights throughout their career to know that for sure.

They had taken their fight all the way to the old storage closet, both covered in fresh wounds. But unbeknownst to Chat, Sakamo was no longer the sloppy trainee he once knew. He was more skilled than he could have ever imagined.

Chat dove for Sakamo's leg, hoping to knock him over. Sakamo grinned at his slip up and kicked backwards along Chat's forearm, leaving a huge gaping scar of blood across it. On the backside sole of Sakamo's black boots were spur-like blades. Chat collapsed onto the ground, clutching his arm in painful agony and groaning. Sakamo put his left foot on Chat's chest, amused.

"You're planning on breaking out the girl...." Sakamo narrowed his eyes and glanced at the blueprints once more, lowering his gaze and shrugging. "A shame. I always heard rumors about your love life.. but never would I ever had thought that they were actually true. Say, what would she think of you if she knew you were actually a mass murderer?" He laughed. She did. Chat coughed up blood, knowing that he was right. He was stupid to think that Marinette could ever love him.. an idiot's fantasy. She had blinded him over countless times, and now, in this moment, it was about to cost him his life.

Sakamo continued laughing as if the whole situation was a big joke. He spoke in a hysterical tone of voice. "Chat Noir.. the assassin of all assassins. Many had tried to end his legacy but failed one by one. Feared by all the people of Paris. Death count; probably hundreds. Some groups as large as armies. And yet.. here he is, giving it all up for Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a stupid girl."

A fierceness erupted in Chat's eyes as he spoke her name. "No need to worry.. Marinette will not suffer a painful death as you shall." He raised his dagger, and as he slammed down into Chat's upper leg, the bandit screamed in pain as blood seeped from the wound. A tear rolled down his cheek again. His vision was blurring, and he could see his own fresh blood trickling from the dagger of his opponent. No. This wasn't over.

The bandit knelt down on top of Chat, allowing him to more easily strike him this way. Then Sakamo punched him across the face. One. Two. Three- Four times in fact, and at this point Chat was on the verge of losing consciousness and couldn't even feel the pain anymore. But Chat still smiled through it.

Sakamo laughed throughout his blurred vision and his ears that endlessly rang, throwing more and more punches as if Chat was his own rag doll. He kept a steady breathing rate, too weak now to fight back.

Chat could barely move his bloody mouth to form a grin if his own. "You know, trainee, you may be good, but you sure as hell aren't smart. You should've killed me when you had the chance."

A gunshot echoed through the room, and Sakamo's once smug expression went blank as he fell forwards onto Chat, now sporting a large gaping hole through his chest. Chat caught him and sat up onto his knees, pushing the initiate's body to the side. He exhaled heavily, dropping the gun at his feet and squeezing his eyes shut. It was true. This was his life. He was, indeed, a natural murderer.