Disclaimer: I do not own A Monster in Paris. That honor can only go to the creative Mr. Bibo Bergeron.
This I had up on DA for a while now, and only now got around to sticking it up here. Schedules, time tables, and agendas...why am I so notoriously bad at keeping you? At any rate, this is partially inspired from a mistranslation that Francoeur had accidentally attacked Maynott on his first night on the town. If thought about though, a lot of things can fit into the realm of 'attack' where an overzealous police chief is concerned, especially on that is willing to do just about anything for a bit of fame.
The City of Lovers glowed that evening, despite some parts of it being almost-underwater. Such was the woe of a certain Chief of Police as he stumbled out of one of the many drinking establishments, seeming to be placed where it was just for the sole act of those that were down on their luck to drown their sorrows. Staggering a bit on the unevenly placed sidewalk, he nearly ran into the other bar patron that had come out right behind him.
"'Ey! 'ey! Watch it, d'-d'you know who I am?" He hollered as he turned to face the offender, instead coming face-to-face with a man who was older than he was, judging on the mussed shock of grey hair that he was sporting.
"S-sorry, had a bit too much, you see?" The other tried to diffuse him, a somewhat drunken grin present that backed up what he was saying word for word, along with the wine bottle clutched in his hand. However, before the chief of police could form a retort, another man broke through the pair, screaming his head off. Something between 'monster' and 'flee the horrible creature'. Either way, it landed on deaf ears as the two men stood there, staring after the retreating man, and about blind to the tall, dark-cloaked figure that had suddenly arrived at the alley they were standing next to. The only thing visible was the large pair of yellow eyes that widened at the sight of them, drawing back a pace into the shadows. Oblivious to their audience, the silver-haired man turned back to Chief Maynott, his expression a mix of incomprehension and drunken wariness.
"Y'think he's…tellin' the truth? Think there's some monster out in Paris tonight?"
At first, he considered simply running the idiot off; of course there was no monster about the city. But, his alcohol-fogged brain chimed in, wouldn't it be a rather fitting punishment to stroke up the other man's fears to make up for his so-callous act of distracting him when there was already a crisis on his hands.
"Oh, there're always monsters out in Paris, man, lurking in the alleys," He gave the last part a rather menacing little edge, not noticing the figure standing in the shadows stiffen, golden-yellow eyes darting around as though expecting to find some threat lurking in the dark. His intended target, however, didn't look so convinced.
"Yeh, and I'll bet there's a real savage beast out somewhere tonight, right?"
"Oh, you better believe there is. It's out there, waiting for that unsuspecting nighttime walker, before it drags him into the darkness to feast."
As Chief Maynott spoke, their unseen watcher in the alley grew more and more fearful, scanning the alleyway with renewed vigor, and drawing in on itself. The other man, however, tried to one-up the police chief.
"Ah, you're talkin' 'b-bout, those cutthroat beasts that feed on the unwary man that comes too close to their den? Ah, the only things left of their victims are the bones, those poor buggers. Devoured by their sharp jaws…"
"And such neat little pieces, from those flesh-rendering claws, can cut straight through bone. Once found a man in so many parts we couldn't tell head from foot."
"And their limbs, strong enough to smash their way through brick!" The other man exclaimed, not noticing the sudden jumpiness of the figure in the alley, which had started to edge more towards the light in its growing panic. Neither did Maynott, caught up in outdoing the other as he was.
"Not to mention their eyes, their evil, evil eyes that can turn even the bravest to cowards! Reduced a man to gibbering insanity!"
"I heard that they can crush a man like a flea!"
What happened next, none could really say, but it was a combination of the vivid imagery and the fact that an alley-cat had just started to brush lightly against its legs that sent the figure hurtling out of the shadows with a frightened series of chirps, and latching right onto Chief Maynott's shoulders like an oversized, frightened child. Of course, he didn't see it that way, and bellowed thunderously, swinging out with his arms. He bowled over his former conversation partner, and knocked himself off balance before managing to dislodge his unwanted cargo. With a final, screeching cry, the creature pushed itself away, jumping for the tops of the buildings, and out of sight.
"A monster in Paris…he was right, there really is a monster in Paris." The other man babbled, eyes wide in his fright. Chief Maynott, once he pulled himself up off the stone, nearly joined in, if not for one thing that suddenly emerged in his scared-sober brain. He had just been handed an opportunity, a rather novel one. After all, would the citizens of Paris look down on him for the flood after he had captured the monster terrorizing their city? Leaving the other man to gibber on the ground, the police chief took off into the night, unaware that another patron from the bar had arrived on the heels of the drama, staring up after the monster with the dumb stupor that only comes from copious amounts of alcohol. Finally, the thought that was on the forefront of his mind worked its way to his mouth.
"Was that a flea?"