Marinette

Sweat slides down my body, my hair sticking to my cheeks slickly. The body heat was unbearable, yet I continued to move. Neon lights flicker across the dark dance floor and the crowd's cheers got louder; hungry for more.

A static is heard to my left and I turn quickly, curious. It was about to begin. The DJ, tall and lean, held a mic to his lips. Blue face paint was smeared around his eyes, hiding his identity, and he wore a bright red cap backward. His teeth sparkled in his grin as everyone screamed his stage name.

The Bubbler.

His laugh crackles through the speakers and the previous beat of music disappeared. The crowd, filled with competitive young dancers, respond with cheers. While most had an excited look, others had snarky, cocky expressions. I stand among them, eager.

"Who's ready for tonight's game of 'Kill or be Killed'!" yelled the Bubbler, a spark in his eyes forming when the crowd screams with excitement.

"What that?"

I turn to the voice to see a girl beside me. She had amber hair and looked so new, she didn't even have her identity yet. This was probably her first day.

"I'm guessing you're new around here. It's just a cool name for the dance battles. Call me Ladybug." I respond, shaking her hand. She smiles.

"Alya"

Before I could say anything else, a spotlight shines on the center of the dancefloor. People back up, leaving the perfect area for a battle. Now we wait. Usually, the cocky ones go first and the smarter ones go later on. But this time, somethings different. There's tension in the room. The silence was almost painful and I could already feel myself getting jumpy. Is no one really stepping up to the plate?

I bounce on my feet slightly, trying to calm myself. But the urge to just walk up there was powerful. Just before I could do anything stupid, a figure enters the empty area. I feel my heart leap into my throat.

Chat noir