mind over mask

fifty-nine

Marinette's POV

The birthdays last week should've been the red flag that school was starting soon, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind.

I rushed to sign up for classes, and buying supplies I would need for the school year. I fumbled through thousands of emails for designs from MDC, planning which ones I would accept, and others I could completely ignore.

Damian saw how stressed out I was, trying to help, but I couldn't always rely on him. I need to forge my own path. Besides, reality was that when I tracked down the last lost miraculous, I would leave. And that was a hard pill to swallow.

The mask would always come first.

Thats why after weeks of staying at the Manor, I finally went back to my apartment for the night. I would usually stay in a guest bedroom across from Damian's room, but I needed to prepare for school. For my future.

After all, the night before school starts was always chaotic, to say the least. My goal was not to keep the track record from years past, actually waking up on time, and not be late to class. But with my luck, it was hard to gauge what would happen.

The kwamis were so happy to see, I checked up on them all the time, but they missed our little sleepovers. I did too, but I think I missed Damian more.

I turned towards the teapot on the stove, waiting for it to warm up, while the kwamis swarmed around me. I giggled, and then a moment later, they were gone. Tikki flew into my sweater, and I knew that we weren't alone anymore. I went into a defensive mode, slightly relaxing when I saw the Miracle Box shut, and camouflage itself into a normal box.

I could feel someone else in the apartment, but I couldn't figure out where. A large hissing noise came from the ceiling, and green gas leaked into my apartment from the vents.

My eyes widened, as I covered my shirt over my nose, trying to reach the Miracle Box.

I fought my drooping eyes, just one more step, I begged myself.

But it was too late.

I gave into the darkness, and the last thing I heard, was maniacal laughter joined with my own.

—

My back and neck were stiff from where I fell asleep in my chair. I needed to get back to work, but felt so groggy. I tried to stand up, but found I couldn't.

My eyes snapped open, and I was tied at every joint to the chair. My wrists, elbows, knees and ankles were gathered, but the most annoying was around my waist. I felt Tikki tap my side, she was here with me, but she couldn't come out. Someone else was here.

I was in some type of storehouse, with some boxes covered with sheets, and others without. The ceilings were vaulted and high, and the chill night air had settled within.

The last thing I remembered was the laughing.

The Joker.

I had to get out of here.

I was about to ask Tikki to help me to untie me from the ropes, when metal dragged across the concrete floor. The screeching didn't stop, and the hair on the back of my neck raised—alert.

I tried to twist in my chair to see behind me, but it was useless. Ignoring my discomfort, the chair was wiped around by the clown of nightmares himself.

His face was defined by the stars that stretched from cheek to cheek, poorly covered with red face paint. The rest of his face was ghostly white, and green hair fell in clumps around his face. In his hands are crowbar, and I cringe away. I had heard bits and pieces from Damian and Dick about how Jason had died; I did not want to share the experience.