Destroyer's POV:

    I am  Destroyer.

   I  smacked something hard with my fist.

   I was relieved when the sign fell flat.

  I was pleased with myself.

  I  smiled as the walls that surrounded a local mart fell.

  It was an old unused building anyway. It was not like anyone would miss it.

    I ran towards the bakery. The same one where the owners never appreciated me or my business. I was sure of it. I asked to date their daughter, and they had turned my offer away. 

     No one turns me down.  I reasoned within myself that I would get vengeance on them all.

     I  landed on the roof with a thud. So far, no one was here to stop me.

     I  scratched up my nose at the smell of baked goods. No, I was not about to give in to the treat's sensations when I could not have Marinette.

     I  grabbed a tile in my fist and wadded it up like it was yesterday's trash.

     As the roof started to fall apart, I hopped off to safety. 

     I  watched from afar as the whole thing tumbled in on its self.

   I saw her parents as they stood together.

  I   felt the sadness that came from her mother and father.

  I  mocked the tears that fell from their cheeks.

  "Too bad you did not let me have her. If I can not then, I suppose no one else can." I sneered

   I was about to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I turned around and found myself face to face with Chat Noir.

  It was obvious by the pain in his expression and the sorrow in his eyes that he cared about Marinette.  

   I fletched when he yelled at me, "How could you do this to her?"

   By her, I assumed he meant Marinette.

 Who else could it be?

  No other blue-haired girls worked around baked goods.

   Tsk, tsk, I thought, the cat is in love with the dead, defeated bakery chick.

    "Chat, she is dead. She is defeated. It is game over for the worthless, better than everyone else, no good bakery girl. She is good as a smashed little piece of work. Do not you agree?" I mocked him.

        I  looked up in fear as Chat Noir smacked my fist to the side.

         I could tell he was one ticked-off cat.

        Find out more in Chapter 3

      bye, bye little owlets!

-Summer out!