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Chapter 5: Foundations of Tomorrow
Sunday mornings always felt different. No school, no noise, just open time I could bend however I wanted. And today, I wanted to test myself.
I packed light—just the necklace I'd enchanted, a few Miraculous, and enough energy bars to survive without anyone worrying. A quick portal later, I found myself on a deserted island, far enough from civilization to train freely without cameras, drones, or curious eyes.
The waves crashed against the rocks while gulls circled above. I stood barefoot on the sand, the necklace cool against my chest, and took a deep breath.
"Alright. Step one—control."
I cycled through martial arts katas, channeling chi into every motion. Punches struck harder, kicks faster. My body wasn't just moving—it was flowing. Then I layered the Rooster's knowledge boost, enhancing every strike with perfect muscle alignment. My fists hit the air like hammers against steel.
The hours blurred. Push-ups, running drills, precision throws with stones. By noon, my shirt clung to me with sweat. The enchanted necklace pulsed faintly, amplifying my stamina and focus, keeping me sharp even when my muscles screamed.
But training was only half the point today.
I sat cross-legged on a boulder overlooking the ocean, notebook in hand. "If I'm going to last as Guardian, I need more than fists and powers. I need a base. Somewhere safe, hidden, untouchable."
The pen scratched across the page.
Base Requirements:
– Location: Underwater, near the Savage Land. Remote, hard to reach, rich in resources.
– Facilities: medical bay (healing for me and allies), cafeteria (supply independence), weapon vault (secure storage), control room (surveillance + planning).
– Secondary Facility: prison. For those too dangerous to leave free but too valuable to kill.
I tapped the page. "Theoretically possible. But not yet."
The hardest part wasn't building walls—it was choosing the right powers to anchor it. Goat for permanent creation, Rooster for magic infusion, maybe Turtle for defensive barriers. But even with those, I'd need time, resources, and absolute secrecy.
"No rushing," I muttered. "First, the blueprint. Then the execution."
I flipped to a new page and began listing names. Not friends, not classmates—threats. Future enemies.
Green Goblin. Doctor Octopus. Lizard. Venom. Kingpin. Thanos.
My pen slowed at the last name. Even with preparation, how could one person stand against something like that?
I shook the thought away. "One step at a time. Plan for what I can. Adjust for what I can't."
Each name got a plan.
– Goblin: aerial defense, countermeasures for explosives, mental stability issues.
– Octopus: insulation, EMP weapons, leverage his arrogance.
– Lizard: antidote formula, cryogenic stasis.
– Venom: sonic disruptors, fire deterrents, psychological warfare.
– Kingpin: infiltration, expose criminal networks, neutralize power bases.
– Thanos: …delay tactics. Stalling until someone stronger arrives.
I exhaled. The page filled quickly, but the work never really ended. I wasn't trying to predict everything—I was trying to prepare for anything.
A Guardian couldn't afford surprises.
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By late afternoon, I was exhausted. My muscles burned, my brain felt cooked, and the ocean breeze carried the salty tang of victory and humility. The base, the plans, the enemies—it was all theory for now. But theory was the seed of reality.
I packed my things, slipped through another portal, and reappeared in front of the Stacy house just as the sun dipped low.
The door opened before I could knock. Gwen leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "You look like you wrestled a bear."
"Close," I said with a tired grin. "Just… self-improvement."
She eyed me suspiciously but didn't push. "Dinner's ready. Come on."
Inside, the Stacy home glowed with warmth. Captain Stacy sat at the table, sleeves rolled up, the smell of roasted chicken filling the air. For a moment, the weight of Miraculous and secret plans melted away.
"Adrien!" Captain Stacy greeted me. "Good to see you. Grab a plate before Gwen eats all the potatoes."
"Dad," Gwen groaned, already blushing.
I slid into my seat. "Don't worry, I'll fight her for them if I have to."
We ate together, laughter breaking between bites. Conversation flowed from school gossip to neighborhood news. I carefully steered around Peter's name, resisting the urge to tease Gwen again—her glare from last night still fresh in my memory.
Instead, I asked, "So, Captain Stacy, what's the hardest part about being a cop in New York?"
He chuckled. "Paperwork. Always paperwork. People think it's the chases, the fights—but no, it's sitting at a desk making sure the paperwork is airtight. Criminals walk if the details aren't right."
"That's… actually kind of terrifying," I admitted.
"Welcome to reality," he said, raising his glass.
The rest of dinner passed in easy warmth. Jokes, stories, a little light teasing. For once, it wasn't about superpowers or threats. It was about family—something I hadn't realized I missed until I was sitting at this table, laughing with them.
When dessert came—apple pie, still warm—I leaned back in my chair, full and content.
Gwen caught my eye and smirked. "You're smiling. That's rare."
I shrugged. "Guess I like it here."
She blinked, then looked away quickly, cheeks pink. "Idiot," she muttered.
I laughed softly. For all the chaos in my double life, moments like these made it worth holding onto.
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That night, as I walked home under the stars, I thought about the day. Training, plans, enemies, bases—it all mattered. But so did dinners, laughter, and stolen moments of normalcy.
Being a Guardian wasn't just about protecting Miraculous or fighting monsters. It was about protecting people.
And if I was going to build a future worth defending, I'd need both—plans for tomorrow, and reasons to fight for today.
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