Chapter Text
Ladybug punches her fist through the air, and misses his head by centimeters. Her knuckles make contact with the cement chimney stack instead, and she roars with pain.
Me-ouch my Lady! was something he would have said to her weeks– just weeks– ago. When he’d been her partner, her Chaton. Her Chat Noir.
Now, Cat Walker merely stares at her. Cold disbelief and borderline disgust at her failed punch is written all over his face.
“Well that was stupid,” he says.
Ladybug clenches her hand– knuckles bruised now surely– and uses the pain to fuel her anger.
She shoots him a dirty look. “Consider that a warning,” she says, voice dripping.
“Of your imminent defeat?” he questions lazily, leaning against his staff. He doesn’t care that he’s inches from her. He doesn’t see her as a threat. “How thoughtful of you, Bugaboo.”
And she hates how wrong the name feels on his lips.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” she seethes bitterly. “You’re going to regret all of this.” She pulls back her arm, swinging her yoyo in tight fast circles.
He blocks her with a thrust of his staff, extending it to throw her string off course.
“Doubtful,” he shrugs, and his smile turns vicious. “Since soon, I’ll have what I want.”
Cat Walker and Ladybug face each other, wearing mirrored expressions of hatred and frustration, and resume their fight.
If only things hadn’t come to this.
…
Two months earlier.
“Pound it!”
Ladybug punches her partner’s fist lightly, wide smiles on both their faces after another successful akuma defeat.
After making sure the victim is ok– an older woman who’d apparently become a little too frustrated with her knitting needles– Ladybug and Chat Noir leisurely stroll away from the Eiffel Tower.
Gone were the days where they needed to split before their transformations fizzled out. Ladybug and Chat Noir have grown stronger together, and though they don’t outright advertise it to Paris or even to the other heroes on their team, their need to recharge between Miraculous uses is swiftly disappearing.
Still, they have responsibilities in their lives to get back to, so even with extended powers, they can’t stay long.
“Got any plans for later, Bugaboo?” he asks while they walk past the gathered applauding onlookers, waving politely when they hear their names cheered.
“Why? Are you yarning for my attention?”
He crinkles his nose. “That one wasn’t very good.”
“What?” she exclaims in disappointment. “I liked it!”
He swings his staff over his shoulders. “I already used ‘yarn’ twenty minutes ago. If you’re going to pun with the pros, you’ve got to at least use new material.”
Ladybug’s exasperated groan is playful. “Now you’re just making up rules! I knew I never should have admitted to you that I actually liked your puns.”
Chat winks. “I would have figured it out eventually. You can’t hide your true feelings from me M’Lady.”
“Oh?” she retorts. “And what are your true feelings?”
He pretends to grow pensive and serious. “That you’re just not very good with words,” he says innocently.
“Ugh! Mangy cat,” she swats at him petulantly. He bounces back with a laugh.
“Listen, I appreciate that you’ve come around in your o-pun-ion–”
“Ok, how is that any better than yarning?!”
“– but we all have our talents. Your talents simply lie elsewhere.”
“My talents,” she repeats, rolling her eyes.
“Yes,” Chat says, and they come to a stop at the street corner. “Avoidance being one. You didn’t answer my question. Are we still meeting up for patrol later?”
Ladybug’s mood shifts entirely, and she turns her head to him with minor alarm. “Patrol? Didn’t I… didn’t I tell you?” she asks. “I have to cancel tonight Kitty-Cat.”
Chat bites his lip, disappointed. “Oh.”
Her eyes are apologetic as she looks up at him. “I’m so sorry, I thought I’d mentioned it. I have the uh, that– the–”
“–the thing?” he supplies wryly, knowing it could be any of a thousand things.
“The thing,” she agrees, with a look in her eyes that says she knows what he was thinking, and that he better quit it. “You know how busy it’s been lately…”
“Yeah,” he brushes it aside with an easy grin so she doesn’t worry. “Yeah, I know. Me too.”
She sighs, and her returned smile is sad in a way that tells him how unsuccessful he was.
“We’ll go for a run one night this weekend,” she promises, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. She glances at the time displayed on her yoyo. “In the meantime, we better get going before people we know start to miss us.”
“Do we have to?” he play-whines with a smile.
It lightens the mood, but only barely. Ladybug shakes her head, but gives him a fond look before sending her yoyo flying to the nearest building. “See you later, Chat Noir.”
And then she’s gone in a swoosh of red.
…
Ladybug keeps her word, and several days later (once they have a chance to organize their schedules) they’re finally able to go on an evening patrol. Those late hours, when it’s just him and his Lady running around on the rooftops of nighttime Paris, are his absolute favorite. He wishes it could always be that way, that life could always be so simple.
But everyone knows life is rarely simple.
When Adrien returns home, he finds his stash of cheese in his bedroom severely depleted. And Plagg is feeling especially whiny.
So they sneak down to the kitchens, something Adrien had done countless of times under his father’s nose without incident. Gabriel, as it happens, is supposed to be in Milan tonight, so it should be an easy task to slip in and out. By all accounts, it should have been an uneventful evening.
Only Gabriel isn’t in Milan.
And while Adrien’s father doesn’t catch him sneaking around the house, Adrien certainly catches him.
Or, more precisely, Plagg catches a certain purple kwami.
And Adrien’s world stops.
…
The day that everything goes wrong– the day the war starts– begins innocently enough.
“Agh!”
Marinette’s collection of drawing pencils spills onto the floor. In a valiant attempt to save her water bottle from sliding off the desk, she'd lost the bag of colorful pencils, and now its contents are scattered everywhere.
Alya chuckles under her breath before ducking down to help her friend clean them up.
“You’re extra clumsy today, you know that?” she says.
“Why do you say that?” Marinette asks, but she's clearly distracted by the green pencil that’s rolled a little further than the others. She stretches her arm at an uncomfortable angle under the table- it’s just out of her reach.
“Here,” a new voice interjects kindly. Both girls look up to see Adrien, who’s sitting a step lower in the amphitheater-styled classroom (and therefore closer to the offending object), bent over to retrieve it. The smile he gives Marinette is warm as he returns the pencil to her. Their fingers linger perhaps a little too long on each other when he hands it off.
“Thanks,” Marinette manages with a soft grin, and Alya’s heart swells with pride. Her best friend has finally gotten over her stuttering around the blonde model, and every word, every interaction, even months later, still feels like a huge win.
She just knows they’ll get together. Any day now. Mark her words. She’s already bought the balloons.
“No worries,” Adrien says, then turns back to Nino, who'd been in the middle of telling him about his latest music set.
When Marinette finally stops staring pensively at the back of Adrien’s head and returns her attention to Alya, the reporter gives her ‘the look’.
“What?” Marinette hisses.
“You know what,” Alya hums back. “When are you going to make a move? I feel like you’ve been stringing me along for weeks now, you guys are so casual around each other. Just go for it already!”
Marinette rolls her eyes, fiddling nervously with her notebook spine.
“I told you, we’re taking it slow. And you know I have a lot on my plate.”
Alya nods along. She’s heard the ‘I’m the Guardian now, I don’t have time to date’ speech many times.
She leans over so only Marinette will be able to hear her hushed whisper. “Are you sure you’re not just indecisive about which attractive blonde boy in your life you’d rather be with?”
“Alya!” Marinette reprimands, and the embarrassed look on her face is so worth it.
“I’m just saying,” the reporter continues brightly at a slightly more normal volume. “I need at least one of my ships to sail and I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Marinette shakes her head as the class begins.
At lunch time, Nino pulls Alya aside.
“Something’s up with Adrien.”
Alya sneaks a glance at their table, where the boy in question is sitting across from Marinette. The two seem to be conversing like normal humans well on their way to becoming a couple. She watches Adrien reach out to take Marinette’s hand, and she laughs at something he says.
“I’d say so,” Alya turns back to her own boyfriend with glee. “He’s completely smitten.”
Nino frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t mean that– there’s something bothering him. I can tell.”
“What do you mean?” she frowns. “He seems ok to me.”
Nino shrugs. “When he’s with Marinette, it’s like… like all is right with the world. But when she’s not around…” he sighs, adjusting his cap. “I don’t know how to explain it Als. It’s like he shuts down. Last week, he was fine. Weekends rolls around,” he waves his hand. “Doesn't answer a single one of my texts. Today, I dunno. Different person. Pensive, moody. Can’t focus.”
“Really?” Alya squints, looking at the blonde again, trying from this distance to assess his appearance, to determine any signs of distress that might not be otherwise immediately noticeable. Was a few days of uncharacteristic moodiness from sunshine-boy really something to be worried about? “Have you talked to him about it?”
“I’ve tried,” Nino says. “He brushes me off. Says he’s just tired from extra photoshoots. But Marinette told me last week he’s already finished everything for the next collection. I’m worried something’s going on at home, you know?”
Alya frowns, understanding her boyfriend’s concern. She knew Adrien’s relationship with his father wasn’t ideal. But still, she can’t imagine…
“I’ll talk to Marinette about it when I can,” she promises.
Nino nods. “So long as we keep an eye on him.”
...
The day only gets worse from there. And it’s a much bigger problem than Nino’s friend’s moodiness.
That afternoon, the war begins.
It starts with an akuma attack in the hours after school, during which Gorizilla makes a grand return. Apparently Adrien’s slipped his leash again, and so the akumatized bodyguard stomps around Paris causing mayhem in search of him; traffic jams, sink holes, shattered glass from window smashing… he has a goal to fulfill, and nothing will keep him from achieving it, and it doesn’t matter what destruction is left in his wake.
To make things more challenging, Gorizilla is joined forces by a sentimonster– a floating disk with tracking abilities– and so Ladybug makes the necessary rounds for backup.
“Shouldn’t we locate Adrien and protect him?” Carapace says as the team– including himself, Rena Rouge, Pegasus, and Vesperia– jogs down a street littered with pot holes and rubble, chasing after the giant gorilla.
“No need,” a new voice says. They all look up to see Chat Noir leaping down on his extended staff from the roof of the nearest building. He lands with grace in front of them. “I’ve already got him to safety.”
Carapace exhales quietly, grateful that his friend won’t be in any danger. Similarly, Ladybug’s shoulders slump in relief. “Thanks Chaton.”
He gives her a winning smile. “It was easy.”
“How’d you know where he’d be?” Rena asks in awe. “His own bodyguard can’t find him, even with that spaceship tracker laser-beam thing.”
A gigantic furious roar radiates in the near-distance, followed by what sounds like cars smashing and more glass breaking. They all jump and turn in the direction of the noise.
“Eh, let’s call it intuition,” Chat Noir mutters as the team sprints off in the new direction.
Chat Noir glances over his shoulder, performing a headcount of their numbers.
“Quite a large group, M’Lady,” he comments casually.
Carapace can see the annoyance cross Ladybug’s face. “There’s a senti, Chaton.”
“We agreed three, not four.”
“Can you blame me for wanting a little extra backup?” she hisses sharply. Then, more gently, “Can we not do this, please?”
With a glance to his right, Carapace catches Rena’s gaze, and sees his discomfort mirrored on her face. This isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed their leaders argue.
Chat Noir sighs as they come upon a busier city square. “It’s fine, I’ll improvise.”
Ladybug is checking the map on her yoyo. “Where is the akuma heading?”
Chat glances over as well, before declaring, “I have an idea. Vesperia.” He looks over at the Bee holder. “When we catch up with Gorizilla, we’ll need you to freeze him with your top. Strike when he’s distracted. We’ll get you an opening if needed.”
“Got it,” the Bee replies eagerly.
Chat Noir turns back to the rest of the group with a wave of his hand. “This way!” he yells in a clear voice as Ladybug puts her map away, motioning them forward as well. He darts down a different street, vaulting up to a roof. In a synchronized motion the team follows after, Ladybug quick at his heels. They leap from roof to roof, flying past chimneys and skidding down slanted slats, until finally dropping down into an alleyway and emerging on a street corner Carapace recognizes as right in front of the Trocadéro.
Chat Noir takes off again, heading toward the columned pavilion overlooking the gardens and Eiffel Tower further beyond.
But as the heroes emerge in the plaza, Gorizilla is not the one waiting for them.
Another tall, shadowy figure calmly steps into view, the heels of her boots clicking against the tiles, her face partially hidden behind the plumes of her great blue fan.
Mayura.
They all come to a wary halt. The odds should be in the heroes’ favor, given their numbers. But Mayura’s presence comes with a history of bad things. Not to mention the frequency with which Hawkmoth has appeared alongside her.
Silently, the heroes group together. Rena Rouge and Vesperia angle their bodies away, eyes cast upwards toward the architecture for any other foes that might be waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Carapace raises his shield; to his left, Pegasus surveys their surroundings.
Ladybug and Chat Noir remain stoically in front, facing the Peacock holder with no small amount of trepidation.
“How good of you to join me, Ladybug,” Mayura greets sweetly. Her senti-creature zooms into view behind her, its disk-like form hovering just over her shoulder. Its tracking beam is aimed toward them, but at least now its stopped shooting.
“What do you want with Adrien Agreste?” Ladybug calls out hotly.
“With Adrien?” Mayura’s brow quirks, then smiles like there’s a secret she doesn’t want to share with the rest of them. “Oh, I’m not looking for Adrien.”
“Why are you helping Gorizilla then?” Ladybug replies, refusing to be deterred. “What is it you want– and don’t say our Miraculous, because that’s not happening.”
Again Mayura only chuckles. “Fine then, I won’t say that I want both of your Miraculous,” she acquiesces. “I only want… yours, Ladybug.”
Carapace glances again at Rena. Her eyes have similarly narrowed in surprise.
Ladybug laughs as well, only hers is much more condescending than Mayura’s had been. “And what Wish is Hawkmoth going to make with only my Miraculous? Or has he forgotten he needs more than one?”
Mayura’s answer is patient. “Hawkmoth only needs to acquire yours.”
Ladybug's mouth turns down in a frown, and Carapace sees how she’s hesitating to further taunt the Peacock holder on her cryptic words. They’re missing something, he can tell, something vital. And Ladybug is trying to figure out what.
“Why wouldn’t he need to steal Chat Noir’s?” she tries again, suspicion creeping into her voice.
“Hasn’t he told you?” Mayura smiles, head falling to the side as she sweetly considers the spotted hero. As she does, her eyes travel to Chat Noir. Carapace suddenly gets the strange impression that the ‘he’ she’s referring to is no longer their arch nemesis.
It’s then Carapace realizes that Chat Noir has not spoken a single word during this exchange.
“Tell me what?” Ladybug’s voice hardens, apparently coming to the same conclusion. She begins swinging her yoyo in tight agitated circles at her side. “Chat Noir, what is she talking about?” her eyes flicker towards her partner.
His face has similarly hardened. But before he can answer, Gorizilla roars, dropping down onto the plaza from the other side. They’ve been so distracted by the conversation, no one saw the akuma coming.
Marble tiles crack on impact. Mayura lets out a curse of annoyance at his poorly-timed interruption, and the sentimonster reacts to her emotional outburst, beginning to fire off bright targeted rays once more. Chaos erupts. Vesperia and a few of the others take the opportunity to charge the akuma, the Bee shouting “Venom!” as she runs. The rest of the heroes are left dodging the colorful tracking beams.
Chat Noir and Ladybug duck low to the ground to avoid getting hit. He says something to her, and she frowns visibly, shaking her head, refusing. He says something else, and she can only stare. He holds her hands a moment longer, before beginning to back away from her. Something dark is bubbling in his fingers, growing larger by the second.
Carapace tries to get a better look in between dodging the sentimonster’s beams with his shield held high over his head. He watches Chat Noir’s hands extend outwards, sees his mouth form the words–
All sound cuts out. The world is deathly silent. Carapace has less than a second to realize what is about to happen, looking wildly at the black energy leaving Chat’s fingers. With widening eyes he reacts instantly, raising his arms–
“Shell-”
Before he can finish uttering the word, a blast echoes around them with a deafening BOOM.
They’re all launched off their feet, as though caught up by a wave, flying backwards in all directions.
He feels himself hit something hard– a wall, a pillar, a statue– he has no idea, it doesn’t matter because it hurts, before his senses are dulled and gravity pulls him down.
And then, nothing.
Carapace groans, rolling over to his side. It doesn’t make his body hurt less, but it helps orient himself. He’s lying on the broken marble ground, and he can feel his cheek stinging, his body aching in protest to even the smallest motion. As he blinks his eyes open, he can see, from his sideways angle, a Trocadéro in shambles. Rubble. Half standing pillars. Slabs of stone sticking up at wrong angles on the ground.
Dust hangs in the air, and through the ringing in his ears he hears the others around him coughing as everyone slowly comes to. He’s grateful that his hood and goggles protect him from the worst of it.
He shakily rises to his feet, looking around for Rena. A few feet away, she’s brushing debris from her dirtied suit. Momentarily satisfied that she’s not obviously harmed, he begins a mental headcount for the rest of their team.
Only one figure is still standing where they’d all been originally gathered just moments before, completely unharmed, untouched by the destruction and debris, because he was the epicenter of the explosion. Even with slumped shoulders and an uncharacteristically withdrawn posture, there is no mistaking Chat Noir.
And just a few feet away, is Ladybug.
She looks as though she too had been knocked off her feet, though the impact hadn’t hit her quite as hard as it had the rest of them. She’s already risen back up, but her hair has come loose from its twin tails, and strands snap around her face in the dust-settling breeze. She’s angled toward her partner, hand outstretched, but even from this distance Carapace can see the expression on her face– a mixture of awe, fear, and uncertainty.
It makes his stomach turn.
Rena Rouge, Pegasus and Carapace all make wary eye contact. The same question is mirrored on each of their faces.
What the hell had Chat just done?
Carapace throws another startled glance around the plaza as he realizes his head count has fallen short.
Where is Vesperia?
The tiny murmur of anguish that escapes Rena Rouge’s lips distracts him. As she takes a step forward to go to Ladybug, Carapace reaches out to hold her back. He can’t explain it, but something is telling him that they need to wait– that something else is coming.
Rena tenses in frustration at his hand that stops her. “Her yoyo,” she breathes. Carapace stares at his girlfriend, not understanding.
Then he looks over her shoulder and sees the object Chat Noir is holding.
“Give me my yoyo, Chat,” Ladybug is saying now in a careful voice, the sound carried to them by the wind. Or maybe his ears have finally stopped ringing.
Chat Noir looks down at the round device in his hands. Weapon, purifier, and who knew what else. He lifts his eyes to her, narrowed in a way that was so opposite from the usual cheerful charm Carapace is used to. This new expression sends chills down his spine, and he feels a similar tension from his teammates beside him.
Only Ladybug remains unaffected by Chat Noir’s change in demeanor. Or so Carapace thinks, until he notices her shift her footing ever so slightly, the way she does just before a fight.
Carapace’s heart quickens, his eyes snapping to the yoyo still tucked in Chat Noir’s hands. An object so much more than a weapon- a tool, a communicator… and a portal to the most powerful objects imaginable.
Objects that could be extremely harmful in the wrong hands.
Chat Noir tosses his head, teeth flashing.“Want to fight for it?”
“Chat.” Ladybug’s voice holds a warning edge.
Something akin to regret crosses the Black Cat’s features for the briefest of moments, but it was gone so fast Carapace thinks he must have imagined it, or perhaps even willed it into being.
Chat Noir shakes his head. “I’m sorry, My Lady.”
He takes a step back, and his suit takes on a hazy glow, remaking itself before their eyes. Its leathery appearance doesn’t change, but its color fades to a more sinister slate. Golden clasps down the front replace his cheerful gold bell. Green and gold detailing appear along the suit edges; his boots grow taller. His hair has taken on a slightly green sheen.
It is elegant and sophisticated. And it is frightening.
This wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t be happening. What even was happening?
From behind him, the smoke that still hung in the air clears like the parting of curtains, and the sentimonster floats through, accompanied by Gorizilla, who unfortunately looks rather unfazed by the explosion. Trapped in his clutch is Vesperia. The Bee struggles to be set free, but she has no chance from within his iron grip. Her venom top is nowhere in sight.
From behind the sentimonster steps Mayura, who’s using her fan to clear the air around her. Her motions are fluid and graceful, and her face is unconcerned, as if she’s performing a dance or simply fanning herself for leisure, and not fanning away putrid smoke and dust.
She stops beside Chat Noir, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Well done, my dear,” she coos, looking down at the yoyo in his hands with a wide victorious smile. “He’ll be pleased.” She looks over at Ladybug, who still stands a few paces away. The spotted hero’s horrified gaze swivels between the two of them, trying make sense of the impossible image.
“Well now you know,” Mayura shrugs unapologetically, addressing Ladybug. “Your partner has seen reason, and chosen his place alongside us. I’d offer you the same, but something tells me you’ll need a little more… encouragement.”
She smiles sweetly at Chat Noir. “I’ll take this,” Mayura continues, reaching for the yoyo. Chat Noir obediently hands it over with hardly a second glance, like it’s a toy he’s lost interest playing with. Instead, he turns and bounds over to Gorizilla, taking up post beside the captured Vesperia. She stares back at him with wide betrayed eyes.
“It’s really a simple trade, Ladybug,” Mayura addresses the hero in a business-like voice. “Your earrings, for the other Miraculous jewels.”
Beside Carapace, Rena pushes free and starts running toward Ladybug. She turns at the commotion, her eyes widening.
“No Rena! Let me handle–” Ladybug yells fiercely with an arm raised to stop her, just as Chat Noir bellows–
“Cataclysm!”
A burst of green and black energy crackles around his hand. It hovers dangerously close to Vesperia, whom he now holds hostage wrapped in his other unaffected arm.
At that, everyone freezes. Chat Noir’s used his powers twice now, without transforming in between. Shock ripples through the group, as the heroes suddenly and collectively realize just how dangerous the Black Cat’s powers of destruction really are, especially now that they were being directed at one of their own.
“No one moves,” Chat orders. The or else portion of his threat goes unsaid, but they all understand.
Carapace feels hollow, stomach sinking, as Chat Noir turns his attention to him specifically.
“Shield on the ground. Now.” His eyes glint as he issues the command. “Wouldn’t want that flying around. It might be… distracting for me.” He waves his black-energized fingers with a lazy grin that looks completely wrong with his new mask and features.
Carapace blinks, and for a moment, stupidly considers disobeying. But his eyes land on Vesperia, caught tight in Chat Noir’s hold, and knows he can’t risk it. Slowly, he lowers the turtle-shell shield and places it at his feet.
Satisfied, the Black Cat turns his cold dead stare to Rena. “I want your hands where I can see them at all times. They don’t go near your flute.”
With obvious annoyance and frustration, Rena seems to come to the same conclusion, clasping her hands in front of her obediently. Her eyes lock on Ladybug pleadingly.
Carapace relates to the feeling. They needed answers, a solution, some luck.
Chat Noir regards Pegasus for a moment, but the Horse holder follows the example set by his teammates and raises his hands, yielding without Chat even needing to speak.
Mayura smiles. “Well then, a new proposal,” she directs to Ladybug, clearly amused by events. “Your earrings for your friend’s life.” She tosses her head in the direction of Vesperia.
Ladybug looks from her to Chat Noir. Her face has gone pale, and she’s clenching her fists to keep her hands from shaking.
Carapace can’t begin to imagine the pain she’s feeling.
“Chaton,” Ladybug tries again softly, gazing at him, appealing to whatever they’d been.
But Chat Noir’s stony silence and hardened features only seem to prove that whatever partnership they’d had is long gone.
He clearly has a new allegiance.
“We have to get her out of here,” Rena whispers, barely moving her lips. “If she can just detransform…”
Carapace gives her a subtle nod. The moment Ladybug detransformed, the yoyo would disappear too. It would save the other Miraculous. But it wouldn’t save Vesperia.
His eyes drift down to the shield at his feet, an idea occurring to him.
What was it Chat Noir had said about distraction?
“Peg,” he speaks, low enough that his teammate can hear. “LB needs an escape route…now.”
“The likelihood of her escape at the current moment is–”
“I don’t need percentages,” he hisses. “I need you to open a portal on my signal.”
“Signal?”
And with that, Carapace stomps hard on the edge of his shield, flipping it up into his hands and throwing it out from his body in one fluid motion.
“VESPERIA DUCK!” he yells, and thankfully, she does. The shield collides with Chat Noir, his cataclysmed hand falling backwards into the sentimonster hovering behind him. He drops the Bee holder to the ground as the creature begins to go stir-crazy. It knocks into Gorizilla as it self-destructs. The akuma roars in pain as it accidentally blasts him with laser beams.
Chat Noir cries out in rage, stumbling back up to his feet. He sees Mayura attempting to get her creature back under control, but really she’s just trying to avoid being trampled on by the akuma.
“VOYAGE!” Pegasus seizes the moment, shooting out his hands toward Ladybug. A shimmering blue portal appears in front of her, and Rena is at her side instantly, taking hold of her arm. Carapace races to help Vesperia, collecting his shield from the ground on the way.
“We have to go,” Rena urges in no uncertain terms. Ladybug hesitates only long enough to look over her shoulder at Chat Noir one last time, and for a brief moment they catch each other’s eyes.
“Bye bye, little butterfly,” he taunts. “I’ll see you soon.”
And then Rena is pushing her through the abyss and diving in after her, the portal closing behind them.
Carapace helps Vesperia stand, Pegasus quick on their heels.
“You ok?” he asks, just as Pegasus warns “Look out–!”
On pure reflex, Carapace spins and blocks Chat Noir’s baton with his shield, their weapons vibrating from the force of impact.
...
Ladybug falls out of the portal alongside Rena Rouge.
She’s still white as a sheet, and Rena is beyond worried.
“Detransform Marinette. We have to get your yoyo back.” She glances up and down the road to get her bearings. They’ve been deposited into a public park, and civilians everywhere were starting to notice their arrival. She lifts her flute to her lips to conceal their presence; time was of the essence, there wasn’t enough of it to find somewhere deserted and safe.
“Mirage!” Rena spins her flute in an elegant arc, and the air shimmers around them.
“We’re invisible to them,” Rena assures her friend, who’s looking around like a lost, frightened animal. “Detransform, we don’t have much time.”
Ladybug takes a deep breath before releasing Tikki in a cloud of pink sparks.
...
Carapace sees the yoyo flash and disappear from Mayura’s hands. He hears her outraged cry.
“Get to safety, both of you!” he calls out to Vesperia and Pegasus. They don’t need telling twice: Pegasus’s countdown has already begun, and Vesperia is injured and her weapon still missing. They help each other retreat down a side street, out of sight, while Carapace turns his attention to the Cat blocking his way.
He fixes Chat Noir with a cold stare, angry and disappointed and confused all at once. “We trusted you.”
But if Chat Noir feels anything remotely similar, it doesn’t show at all.
“Bad luck, then.”
Lunging toward one another, they go to blows again.
...
“I’m going back. SPOTS ON!”
“You can’t,” Rena begs, grasping a recharged Ladybug’s arm before she could send her regained yoyo flying.
Ladybug pulls herself free. “Get out of my way, Alya.”
“There’s nothing you can do for him,” Rena insists desperately, feeling the tears begin to prickle in the back of her eyes.
“I have to help the others.”
“Carapace will get them out.”
“I have to go back,” Ladybug repeats in frustration, and this time Rena can’t stop her from tearing away and flying out of sight. The only thing that keeps her from following is the fact that her own suit will soon expire, and she needs to find somewhere more secure than the middle of a crowded park to recharge. With a curse, she races down the nearest alleyway.
...
“Why?” Carapace grits out, wrestling his shield against Chat Noir’s baton. Their weapons are not compatible for close combat, and Carapace is consistently finding himself put on defense from his opponent’s strikes. He’s managed to get in a few good swings with his shield, but Chat Noir’s speed and agility are far superior. Chat has years of experience on his side, combined with a strength and precision Carapace hasn’t mastered. Blocking is the only way he could keep up (if it could even be considered keeping up).
Deep down, he knows he’s losing.
“Guess turtles really are slow,” Chat Noir jeers.
“Why would you do this?” Carapace asks, ignoring the insult, and putting all his weight behind his shield. Chat Noir’s staff was extended long and pressed up against the turtle shell, his arms braced wide and pushing with equal, if not greater, force. “How could you turn your back on us– on her?”
The Black Cat grimaces at the question, locking his green-lensed eyes on Carapace’s own. “This is for the best.”
“In what world is this best?” he cries out in outrage.
“Stand down,” Chat Noir answers.
“Hah– in your dreams.”
Just when Carapace feels his arms begin to cave, the pressure on his shield vanishes. Unprepared for the sudden shift, Carapace stumbles forward, almost falling. He straightens up to see Chat Noir vanishing over the side of a rooftop on his pole, moving far too quickly for him to give proper chase. Carapace spins in a panicked circle, readying his stance for other possible assailants, but Mayura has likewise vanished. No sign remains of the senti-monster, likely released.
Carapace stands, panting, alone on the rubbled street.
He doesn’t know how long he stands in the destroyed remains of the Trocadéro, with his hands on his hips, breathing hard. Sirens wail as police block off the surrounding streets and assess the damage, writing reports. None attempt to approach him; perhaps they are just as stunned as he about what has just transpired. Reporters are gathering on the sidelines of the scene with cameras flashing. Overhead, a helicopter passes with a news crew capturing aerial footage.
Carapace knows that it’s time to leave. He’s exhausted, and even though he never called his power, his suit is wearing thin. He needs to find Alya and check on her. He wishes he knew who his other teammates were, and he wishes he could make sure they made it home in one piece.
He needs to feed Wayzz. He doesn’t worry about returning the kwami to Ladybug– he knows she’ll find him. Besides, something tells him that she might need him again… and soon.
Everything has changed.
Carapace glances up and, as if the mere thought has called her into being, he spies a familiar red shape standing at the top of a large building across the street. He can’t make out her face from this distance; she’s little more than a silhouette against the horizon of a setting sun. She raises her arm, and at first he thinks she’s waving, but then a shower of glimmering ladybugs blooms and spreads through the fiery sky, glittery red against sunset orange. The magic envelopes him briefly before moving on their way.
The relief he feels in his bones is instantaneous. His weariness lessens, his bruises heal. He breathes easier.
The street repairs itself wherever the akuma and senti-monster magic, and Chat Noir’s cataclysm, had touched. But for the first time in the history of the Miraculous heroes, not a single civilian cheers the restoration of the city. As Carapace looks around, he sees only fear in the eyes of the people.
He glances back up at the rooftop, but Ladybug has disappeared.
Yes, everything has changed.
...
Alya races to Marinette’s house, with a heart that beats wildly in her chest. She never recharged– the Miraculous Cure meant everything was over. She feels her phone vibrating in her pocket– Nino, surely– but she keeps running.
Down the street, where the bakery is at last in sight, she scans the sky and rooftops for any sign of red. She keeps going, not even waiting for the crossing light to change before darting through a crosswalk, dodging cars that screech to a halt and slam on their horns at her recklessness.
Alya bolts through the bakery side entrance, a door as familiar to her as the one in her own home, and races up the stairwell– if she passes Marinette’s parents in any of the rooms of the house, she doesn’t stop to see or say hello– and pounds her way up the narrow flight of steps leading to Marinette’s lofted bedroom.
But it’s empty.
Filled with pink, and clothes everywhere. Completely ordinary. Alya checks the bundled blankets in the unmade bed to be sure one wasn’t actually her friend in disguise, then heads up further through the last trap door leading to the rooftop balcony.
To at last find Marinette, fallen to her knees, head buried her hands.
Sobbing.
Heartbeat still racing, Alya at last slows, everything inside her breaking at the sight of her best friend.
Now that she’s here, what does she say? What words could she possibly come up with to comfort her superhero friend whose partner has just utterly betrayed her?
The answer is simple: nothing.
There’s nothing to say.
So Alya sits down beside Marinette, and wraps her arms around her, pulling her close. Marinette’s sobs continue, but at least now the tears fell on Alya’s shoulders instead of on her own.
When the sun fully sets and Marinette’s tears at last begin to recede, Alya is still sitting beside her.
“I need you to do something for me Alya,” Marinette says, in between hitching breaths and hiccups.
“Anything Marinette. Anything you need.” Unquestioningly.
“If something happens… if Hawkmoth discovers who I am–”
Alya shushes her and pulls her closer. “Hush. That won’t happen.”
Marinette draws away, and her blue eyes, though still glassy with moisture, are fierce. “Alya,” she says again, more firmly this time, and Ladybug’s voice shines through the brokenness of Marinette’s. She watches, words sticking in her throat, as Marinette touches the Fox necklace hanging over her chest with trembling hands. Alya makes to take it off, but Marinette shakes her head forcibly.
“This is yours full time now,” she says. “I need you to promise me, that you’ll keep it safe, and help me protect Paris.”
“Of course I will Marinette,” she says. She would have made the promise regardless– her friend has already lost so much, Alya would be damned if she had to lose anyone else.