Chapter Text
The night was golden, boozy, and prime for Chat Noir.
It was a simple party; he went to those often enough. It had become routine to him: sneak out of his bedroom window, transform behind the house where his father would never see him, find the latest bash being thrown, snoop for trouble, and stop Hawk Moth’s gang before anyone noticed. Plagg would always tell him he had to get himself a girl, but Chat would never listen. He just liked the atmosphere. Not to mention taking out baddies was far more fun than it should be. Nobody would tell him he needed to stay shut up inside when he was out here. Nobody would ask him for an autograph.
And most importantly, Paris would be safe for another night.
Chat surveyed the crowd of glittering party guests, Nino and the rest of his band catching his eye. Nino’s fingers were moving like lightning on his trumpet, and his tune was just as electrifying. Of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything but the best from Nino. What Chat wouldn’t give to just spend a night dancing and laughing and having fun. But…that just wasn’t the life he had been chosen for. There were more important things to take care of.
He first noticed something was off when he saw two men shaking hands. One was tall and slender with dark hair and very strange-looking gloves. The other was much shorter, chunkier but definitely a big six under his jacket. Nothing too strange about that. But he noticed that they lingered near one another, leaning in close and whispering something. Hmm. They could be Hawk Moth’s cronies. Not too implausible a thought; Hawk Moth’s gang was everywhere. Passing drugs in dimly-lit alleyways, handing beautiful girls to leering men, armed with choppers around people’s rooms. “Akumas” he called them. They were everywhere. Even at this party.
A couple seats away from the two men, a gangly redhead clutched a small glass filled with golden liquid. Chat could see the redhead’s knuckles turning white.
“Possible target,” he mumbled. Chat squinted and looked a little closer. The man looked like Nathaniel, the artist who did a portrait of him and his father a while ago. A very talented man, but poor as could be. Even with a high-paying portrait job, one couldn’t make much money selling paintings on the street.
It’s probably nothing, he thought to himself. Nathaniel’s a nervous guy. Those men might not even be akumas. Just relax, Adrien. Have a drink. Do some dancing.
Chat strode over to the bar, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could. Or at least, as inconspicuous as someone wearing a mask and cat ears could look. Surprisingly, the men didn’t notice him. But when he ordered a gin rickey, the bartender was far less tolerant. He mixed the drink with a frown on his face, shoving the glass at Chat when he was done.
“Thanks,” he said, picking up the glass.
The bartender grunted and gave him a final nasty once-over.
Chat’s eyes drifted to his right as he sipped the rickey. Fortunately, the men still hadn’t noticed him. The tall one paused by the counter, casting a sidelong glance to the redhead. Looked normal enough. Except for one thing that managed to catch Chat’s eye.
A pin.
A butterfly-shaped pin on his lapel.
Chat took a swig of his highball and set it on the marble counter, grinning. “Definite target.”
Trying to follow akumas from a distance was challenging. Besides the temptation of beautiful girls beckoning him onto the dance floor and Nino’s music begging him to dance, he ran the risk of running into something. Or something running into him.
Of course something had to bump into his shoulder just as Nathaniel ducked into the dark alleyway that sat between the two buildings across the street.
“Sorry.”
Oh. Someone ran into him.
It was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Adrien saw her around the set sometimes. She was a pretty thing, dark hair cropped short, button nose, pale pink dress that fell like petals. He was willing to bet that she made that dress, considering she designed all his costumes.
He took a step back. “Sorry little lady. Didn’t see you there.”
Marinette looked him up and down with the bluest eyes. “This isn’t a costume party, you know.”
Chat shrugged. “I like to make an impression.”
Judging from the look she gave him, she probably thought he was completely crazy. “Well, you certainly are. Excuse me kitty.” Marinette brushed past him, looking to the alley. The akumas were on Nathaniel's tail.
Chat smiled. “You should try it sometime! Making an impression is pretty fun!”
Marinette looked over her shoulder. “Maybe I will!”
He shook his head and continued on his path away from the party.
When he finally managed to navigate the sea of people and make his way across the road, Chat took a good look at his destination. The alley was dark and the stone lining the walls and ground was prime for cracking someone’s skull. It was no surprise that the akumas picked it to bump off Nathaniel.
The artist was wringing his hands and leaning against the wall. In the darkness, Chat could make out the frame of a tall figure coming closer. He ducked behind a trash can, peeking his head out from the side to see. His staff was in his sleeve. His eyes were focused. He was ready.
The figure cleared his throat. “Quite a party, huh?”
The redhead turned to look at him as he stepped into the dim light. It was the taller one. The man with the strange gloves. Nathaniel smiled and nervously smoothed back his hair. “Uh…yeah. Real swanky. Um…how’s your evening been?”
“Oh, I’ve had better. It’s been a perfectly lovely night…” he moved in closer, casting a shadow over Nathaniel’s eyes. “But I’ve had the misfortune of talking to a piker.”
The color drained from Nathaniel’s face as a brightly gloved hand pinned him to the brick.
The big six was back, taking his place behind the other akuma’s shoulder. “Listen, buddy. Your deadline was tonight. Tonight at eight o’clock. What time is it now, Animan?”
The shorter one, Animan as he’d called him, grunted and pulled out a pocket watch. “Eight thirty.”
“Well whaddaya know. Eight thirty. Thirty minutes too late.”
“I know. I’m going to pay him! I just need to work for a few more days, just until I can make enough—”
The taller one clicked his tongue against his teeth. “We don’t take kindly to men like you. It’s important to be punctual.”
“I know, but I really don’t make much money, all I have is—”
“Simon,” Animan said. “It’s time to shut him up. Search him.”
The man called Simon patted down the trembling boy, fishing a wallet out of his pocket. “This is all he’s got.”
“Alright then. Do whatever you want. But the boss wants me to end it.”
Simon grinned and opened his blazer, revealing a revolver strapped to his chest. Nathaniel whimpered as the barrel was pressed under his chin.
“Simon says apologize.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll never pay him late again, take everything, take whatever you want, please…”
“How about we take your life?”
He was starting to cry now, his pleas teetering on the edge of sobs. “No! Please, I have a family…”
“They won’t be any worse for the ware. It’s okay. It’ll be over quick.” He pocketed the revolver and gestured to his partner. “Animan, finish the job.”
Animan took off his blazer and reached behind him, peeling tape from his back. A tommy. Nathaniel didn’t stand a chance.
Not without Chat.
The akumas were very confused when they saw a blond haired man with cat ears running towards them like greased lighting. They were even more confused when he shouted “cataclysm!”
Chat’s hand closed around the metal nose pointed at Nathaniel and the tommy was gone in a burst of purple and black.
Normally Chat would have laughed upon seeing the look on Animan’s face. He was completely dumbfounded. But he didn’t have time to laugh. He yanked his staff out of his sleeve and knocked the wind out of Simon’s gut after disorienting Animan with a bonk on the head. Chat looked at Nathaniel. “Go! Now!”
Nathaniel didn’t need to be told twice. By the time Animan pulled himself back onto his feet, Nathaniel was out of sight.
“Shit! Simon, the piker’s gone!” Animan snarled and grabbed Chat’s arm. “Who the hell are you?”
“Chat Noir. Surrender now before the cops get here.” The akuma’s grip on his arm tightened. Simon rose up, breathing heavily and wheezing.
No. He wasn’t wheezing. He was…laughing.
His shoulders were back. Head held high. As if nothing had happened. He scoffed and raised a gloved hand. “Bad kitty.”
Chat’s cheek burned as he hit the gravel. He squinted, trying to make out what they were doing through blurry vision. Hang in there Chat, just a minute, the miraculous will work its magic soon and you’ll feel right as rain…
Simon was muttering something to Animan. He managed to hear the words “boss” and “trouble” through the pounding in his ears. Then Simon’s footsteps, loud as open fire against the ground. Louder with each step closer. The sole of his shoe was driving the air out of Chat’s throat.
Simon fished his revolver out of his pocket and handed it to Animan. “Shoot the kitty.”
The foot came off of his throat and Chat gasped, trying to take in as much air as his lungs would hold. But the gun was against his heart.
“Simon says…” Chat was fading. “Never mess with Hawk Moth.”
His thoughts were slow. The bullet won’t kill you…not while you’re transformed…
But the suit could only protect him so much. What would happen to him?
Then…a blessing. A savior. A lifesaver.
It came in the form of a yo-yo.
A bright red yo-yo that whizzed through the air and wrapped around Animan’s wrist. He paused, looking at the spotted circle. “What the hell…”
A slender hand yanked the yo-yo’s string and sent him crashing to the ground. Animan lost his grip on the gun, letting it skitter onto the gravel next to him.
“Son of a bitch. I’m bleeding.”
“Aw, what a pity. I suppose that’s how your mug shot will look.”
Who was that? Chat Noir followed the yo-yo as its wielder wound the string around their finger, stepping further into the light with each wind.
Chat’s eyes widened. Was he really seeing this, or was the lack of oxygen making him hallucinate? The figure was that of a girl, willowy and slim and a vision in red. Her midnight hair was cut into a bob and her blue eyes gleamed under a polka-dotted mask.
“Please let him go and come quietly. The police will gladly take you.”
As the girl spoke, adrenaline finally began to gather in Chat’s chest again. It was time to strike.
Animan scoffed. “The police? Don’t get too hasty, little lady. You don’t know who you’re—”
He was immediately silenced by Chat’s fist.
The thug fell onto the concrete and went still. Simon raced to his body, leaning down to listen for his heartbeat. Just as Simon began to stand, the yo-yo’s string found its way around his ankle. The girl yanked and he was on the ground beside Animan.
She strode over to Chat, standing in front of him like a guard. Geez, he must be dreaming. “You’re not getting away that easy, Simon Says,” she said. Her yo-yo flew into the air as she exclaimed “lucky charm!”
In a flash of red and white, a small round metal sphere appeared in her hand. The girl bit her scarlet lip. A ball? What was she supposed to do with that?
Simon pressed his hands into the ground, stumbling as he stood. “You bitch!” He growled as his bright hand went for Animan’s gun. Chat leaped and landed onto Simon’s shoulders, sending him to his knees. He had to get that gun away from him.
Simon’s elbow rammed into Chat’s chest as he clawed at his hands. Simon heaved Chat back and forth, back and forth, nails digging into Chat’s arms. His grip on the akuma’s shoulders was slipping, the butterfly was breaking free, and then the butterfly won with a final pitch backward. Chat wasn’t strong enough. Simon was aiming at the girl and all she had was a ball barely as big as the bullet that would be hurtling toward her any second.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and hurled the sphere in Simon’s direction. Simon laughed and pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened.
Chat’s mouth fell open. No way.
No. Way.
The sphere was lodged in the revolver’s barrel. Simon pulled the trigger again. And again. But no bullets.
Simon furrowed his brow and examined the barrel. “What the…”
Chat’s fist was against Simon’s jaw and his hands were closed around his wrists in a heartbeat.
“Simon says you’re under arrest.”
The girl smiled and clipped the yo-yo to the crimson band in her hair. Chat sighed. “That really was lucky. Thanks, doll. I owe you one.”
She waved a hand. “Sure thing. Be careful. Hawk Moth can be treacherous.”
Chat gave a knowing smile as he smoothed back his hair. “I know. This isn’t my first party, you know.”
“Me either,” the girl replied.
Chat drew closer. “Really? I haven’t seen you around. And I’d definitely notice someone like you.”
It was like a hyper-awareness had taken over him. He couldn’t stop wondering if his hair was smooth, if his suit was neat. Was she annoyed by him? Was she intrigued? Amused? But those questions were overwhelmed by the way the beaded black spots on her dress glimmered, and how her cheeks were slightly flushed pink, and how her cobalt stare was so brilliant, even looking up at him under thick black lashes.
“I don’t like to draw attention to myself. But I know my way around.”
He prayed she couldn’t hear how loud his heart was hammering. “That so? You wanna show me what you know?” He leaned in closer to her, green gaze meeting blue. She smelled like brown sugar.
She playfully pushed him away. “I’m not here to flirt. You’re a miraculous holder. I’m a miraculous holder. You want to stop Hawk Moth. I want to stop Hawk Moth. Why not strengthen our numbers?”
He hoped he didn’t look as giddy as he felt. “You want to be partners?”
“You can hold your own.”
He smiled. “I’m the chat’s pajamas.”
She rolled her eyes and stuck out her hand. He took it and they shook. “I’ll see you soon Mr. Cat.”
He puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hips. “Actually it’s Chat noir. Will I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”
The girl paused before running back into the shadows. “Call me Ladybug.”