Chapter Text
The catacombs of Paris were deep and cold, suffocating, save for the constant drip of the Lazarus Pit. For Damian Wayne, that sound rang out as a taunting reminder of his complicated history and the specters that had remained in his mind. At sixteen he was saddled with legacy: managing Wayne Enterprises, studying for a medical degree, and expecting to retire as Robin.
Maya's coded message came thru and put a debate with his father, Bruce Wayne, on hold. His chosen sister, Bruce’s goddaughter, Maya Ducard, had been missing for a long time. The message brought dread. She knew an extraction was necessary. The coordinates indicated Paris. It was a personal mission. Only Bruce knew the whole story, a secret they had kept from their family.
The history with the Ducards was a raw wound for Damian. Henri Ducard, Bruce’s former trainer, had a son, Morgan, who became the assassin Nobody. Their betrayal led to a deadly confrontation, forcing Damian to make a choice that haunted him — he’d taken a life one last time, a decision that weighed on his soul. He remembered the salty air of the Gotham docks and the burning submarine, where the bullet wound on Morgan’s forehead had haunted him for years. Morgan was a mirror of his own hatred— a ghostly reminder of what he could become if he didn’t change his ways or beliefs, if he kept thinking that killing would bring about any real change, or that it would stop monsters from hurting the people Damian cared about. But that was only a dream. The losses he had suffered were too many, and the fragile trust and devotion that came with being Robin now threatened to undo him.
Now, he found Maya playing a part too deep— the villainous persona of Lila Rossi, French-Italian socialite. His heart ached at the sight of her, a brilliant mind shattered by the roles she played. As the green waters of the Lazarus Pit dripped, Damian felt a knot of dread. He knew this abomination was part of a larger plot, one that could threaten everything his family fought to protect. He had to save her, and in doing so, confront his own demons.
Damian’s mind conjured Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a splash of color against the dark catacombs. He recalled their first meeting — a bizarre rooftop chase across Paris. She’d stolen his phone, citing kleptomania, a transparent fabrication with an endearing quality. His Robin training had prepared him for countless foes, but this girl was different. Agile, smart, and knowing every twist of Paris. He remembered watching her leap between rooftops, his heart lurching — a fear he rarely felt. But she landed gracefully and vanished into the city. The memory brought a reluctant smile, even as he remembered losing his phone. He never expected that encounter to be the start of something. The impromptu hide-and-seek, the romantic dance at the gala— these moments had been a respite.
But now, Leviathan had made their move —the stakes were higher than ever. The organization that ruined his life threatened everything he cared about. To be perfectly precise, it was the organization funded by his own mother—the same Blitzkrieg that nearly erased the country of Markovia from the map. This was the organization that had killed him, that had dragged him into the deepest pit of hell. Even his mother had changed; guilt and pain lingered, and the wounds were still fresh.
Damian’s mind shifted from emotion to tactics. "Maya, are you good?" he asked, a quick operational check. He watched Maya, now regal and commanding as Chrysalis, direct waves of empowered Marinettes. These Vermin Queen clones moved with crucial speed. Maya’s voice, guided them with precision. Damian’s list of coordinates was a map of devastation. The cloak of night cleared the streets, making the mission feasible.
Marinette’s split consciousness processed the data. One clone, racing through the 15th Arrondissement, got the first instructions. It moved toward Gare Montparnasse, where a Leviathan team was setting up a device. The station, nearly deserted, felt like a trap. Another clone was directed toward Châtelet–Les Halles, the sprawling underground network; perfect for a city-wide shutdown. The clone navigated tunnels, slipping past workers. A third clone moved to the Louvre. Hidden near the Pyramid, the bomb’s purpose was desecration. The clone felt the weight of history as it slipped past a night watchman. A fourth Marinette headed for Sacre-Coeur. The bomb, meant for the steps, would shatter peace and spread panic.
Amidst chaos, Damian guided them, his phone a lifeline. He set up charges in the Lazarus Pit’s cavern. The pool needed to be erased, its existence a stain and source of pain for his family. He placed explosives at structural weak points, fuses set, wires connected. Everything ready.
Maya directed the other clones to disarm the bombs. Suddenly, a panicked shriek crackled over the comms — the clones’ movements ceased.
"What happened?" Damian demanded.
"Putain. Shit, shit, shit!" Maya’s voice was laced with terror. "This is not happening! Marinette, don’t do anything reckless! That is not Adrien Agreste! Don’t listen to him! Fuck, fuck, Marinette!"
Damian scrambled to hack the clone’s video feed. The image flickered to life — a Vermin Queen clone stood frozen. A Leviathan soldier, unmasked, wore a face Damian recognized. He cut his own comm, listening.
"Marinette," the man said, green eyes glinting. "You have no idea what you’ve walked into. My father told me everything. You are being manipulated. That creature — Chrysalis —she’s been lying to you."
"He's not Adrien Agreste, Marinette!" Maya’s last shout echoed, desperate.
The clone stood frozen, face a mask of shock. The original Marinette listened intently through the comms.
"He’s not Adrien Agreste, Marinette. Because Adrien... is dead."
The comms crackled, followed by a chilling laugh. "Oh, Marinette," the man with Adrien’s face said. "Join us. Leviathan has shown me everything."
The clone, voice strained, responded, "What? Lila, are you saying Adrien is dead? Tell me! What? And who is this man?"
More Leviathan soldiers gathered, unmasking one by one. Marinette and Damian saw the same, identical face — the face of Adrien Agreste, Chat Noir. In Damian's mind, confusion and fear swirled. What had Leviathan done?
Damian didn’t wait. He was already in motion— a blur with a singular purpose.
"Chrysalis, take a calming stance on Marinette!" he barked over the comms. "Keep her focused!"
With a practiced motion, he tapped a tracking chip on his suit. The target: the original Marinette, deep inside the Louvre Museum, entangled with one of the bombs. He ran.
His suit, a masterpiece of engineering, could grant him super-speed for a critical minute. As he activated the power, lightning erupted from his heels; the force of the speed hit him to his core. The world streaked past; he had only a minute before the power faded.
Damian became the speed, shattering cobblestones as he launched from the Catacombs. He bypassed roads, treating Parisian landmarks as launchpads. The Seine River was crossed in a single leap. With only seconds left, he saw the Louvre Pyramid and executed a pinpoint landing, slamming into a steel loading bay door, and entered the museum.
The speed faded, replaced by a rush of adrenaline. Damian slid to a stop in the hall. He spotted Marinette at the center of the museum stairs, near the glass pyramid. Her body was motionless, her eyes wide with shock. The revelation of the Adrien Agreste clones and his alleged death had paralyzed her.
He gripped her shoulder. "Dupain-Cheng, listen to me! You have to fight this! We don't have time — the bombs first, break down later!"
But she was unresponsive, trapped in horror. Damian glanced around and felt relief: her clones could still finish their mission.
Then the comms crackled. Chrysalis: "I have no time! Once the bombs are diffused, I have to transform back for Marinette to lose her Akumatization. I'll try that, but we need to diffuse the bombs now."
The Louvre bomb was his priority. He scanned the area, locating the device. The bomb wasn’t complex; his experience in Gotham made this easy. His hands moved. The timer stopped.
Bomb diffused.
But Marinette remained frozen, eyes wide and unseeing. He needed a solution.
Just then, Leviathan soldiers — six of them —moved into the hall. They removed their red visors, confirming his worst fear: the identical image of Adrien Agreste on every face.
As they raised their weapons, he made one last attempt to rouse Marinette, but it was no use. The first hail of bullets erupted. Damian dove, tackling Marinette from the line of fire. He engaged the enemy, dismantling their rifles with his visor and swiftly subduing four, but two remained, one missing.
Suddenly, Marinette begged him to stop, leaping in front of him, cradling a wounded Adrien clone. "Don't you dare hurt him, demon!" Violet liquid began to encapsulate her. "Maya, it's time, now!"
Chrysalis's voice: "Nooru, Light Wings Dissolve!" The transformation vanished, leaving only a wounded, traumatized teenager. Marinette’s eyes were bloodshot as she caressed the wounded clone.
Relief was short-lived. A gunshot echoed from the Catacombs. Damian saw in his HUD: clones had launched a massive attack on the Lazarus Pit. Maya, now in civilian form, was outnumbered. Nathalie Sancoeur, Leviathan’s Paris leader, lunged at Maya.
"Fuck," Damian swore, mind dissolving into raw fury.
Damian had minutes, but not the luxury to spend them on travel. The suit could only offer strength and flight now — not super-speed. His focus snapped to Maya fighting for her life as the Adrien clones attacked. The comms crackled.
"Damian," Maya's strained voice cut through. "I had so many things to say to you." She leaped away from an attacker, but she was taking damage. "Nooru was recharging, but Nathalie is fierce." Nathalie had seized the Butterfly Miraculous brooch and the exhausted kwami, Nooru. Maya was bloodied. Nathalie shot her in the stomach. She collapsed against the wall.
Damian screamed her name in his mind. He had already called Goliath for her rescue, but it was too late.
Maya's voice was weak. "You know, Dames. Goliath, Jon, Kathy, Suren, and you... You're my chosen family, right? From the year of atonement and Dinosaur Island. Your old man, even your mother, Talia... she's like a mother to me. I love all of you, but this is the end for me. After all I did... being a villain... Nobody... to being Chrysalis. Please forgive me. For Paris. But this is the only way. See you in the endless void, Dames. I... love... you."
"Maya! NOOOOOOOOO!"
The comms snapped silent. The feed from the Catacombs went black as the bomb exploded, the ceiling crashing down. The remaining Leviathan soldiers, and Nathalie, were trapped in rubble. Damian's legs faltered. He sank to his knees in the Louvre. "No, this is not supposed to go this way... This is not supposed to be this way!"
Marinette Dupain-Cheng's bloodshot, teary eyes were wide as she cradled the wounded clone she knew as Adrien Agreste. It didn't matter that he wasn't the original; he was Adrien to her. His bloodied body was heavy in her arms. She caressed his cheek, humming a lullaby, blocking out Damian's frantic efforts.
Adrien's eyes fluttered. "Marinette, I'm sorry, I tried. I'm not the original. Nathalie has my amok, the object controlling me... us. We still keep the memories of the original Adrien, and now..."
His voice faded. Marinette's gentle smile displayed both relief and deep sadness, but it vanished as she witnessed a terrifying transformation: Adrien's body breaking apart, turning into fine, golden dust.
"What's happening? Adrien!"
"It's too late," he whispered, touching her face. "I'm going to vanish soon." He took her hand, eyes full of confession.
"The original, with Ladybug, defeated Hawkmoth — my father. He sacrificed himself to save Paris and Ladybug. I'm sorry for how I treated you back then; I was hurting. Your genuine connection, your obsessive love... it mirrored my father's grief too much, so I ignored you. I'm sorry I can't reciprocate that kind of love. The original is gone, but Nathalie, in her grief-stricken, twisted love, revived an army of us. Leviathan is using us. The people behind this are bigger than Paris. The phone... keep it away from them. I'm sorry, Marinette."
He cupped her face and gave her one last, gentle kiss. As it ended, the last golden dust fell from his hand. He disappeared, just like the other clone soldiers.
Marinette didn't scream. She didn't cry. She sat on the cold stone, unmoving, her grief apparent only in the vacant space in her arms and the lingering scent of cinnamon.
Damian Al Ghul Wayne steeled himself. He looked at the grieving Dupain-Cheng, the gold dust — the remnants of the clone — scattered nearby. He heard the confession and gave a soft "tt."
"Dupain-Cheng, there is no time to mull. We need to move."
Marinette's eyes snapped to his. He saw blazing rage in her bluebell eyes, a mimicry of his own fury. She had lost something fundamental tonight. He wouldn’t demean her grief, but he wouldn't let it stop them.
"We need to leave Paris. It's not safe for you. They know you were working with Maya —you're a target now."
"I know." Marinette stood, clutching the phone. The one the clone had warned her about.
As they ascended the Louvre Pyramid stairs, a shadow landed outside: Goliath, the bat-winged creature, landed with a guttural roar. Damian hugged him. "I know, Goliath. Maya... she's gone." He couldn't grieve now; they needed to get to safety.
He turned to Marinette. "Are you coming with me or not?"
"I'll go. Alya, Ladybug... she's still missing. I don't know what Null Monarch is planning, but he lost his pawns today. I will make him pay." She clutched the phone tighter. "Could you train me? Help me get my revenge?"
Damian looked at her. Her face was fierce, vengeance incarnate.
"You will leave your life behind. You will go to the depths of hell," he said plainly. "I will help you, Dupain-Cheng, but are you ready to forsake your humanity? I, the Heir to the Demon, Damian Alexander Al Ghul Wayne, will help you get your revenge."
The broken child was gone. Only a young woman driven by vengeance remained.
Damian secured Marinette to Goliath's saddle. As they flew into the Parisian skyline, the last of the city's bombs were diffused, but the Lazarus Catacombs had vanished, along with Maya and Nathalie. Leviathan, his mother's mistake, had taken one of his siblings.
"They made a grave mistake. These Leviathan remnants will pay." He hoped his father would forgive him for the blood he was about to spill. He had to reclaim the Demon's Heir mantle once again. Null Monarch had no idea what was coming. The League of Shadows, a thousand assassins, the Demon's Army — he would unleash them to end this.
In Maya's last words, his chosen sister: They will all pay.
Goliath's silhouette became a tiny speck on the Parisian skyline. The Demon Heir and a lost girl, plotting their own revenge.