Chapter Text
“Yes! Finished!” Marinette hollered as she held her newest variation into the air, throwing her other fist up in victory and almost dropping the machine in the process.
She quickly caught the piece and got up from her workbench, a grin splitting her face as she started looking around her room. “Tikki!”
She looked through a pile of paper scraps for her kwami but couldn’t find her. She sighed, her gaze combing her room one last time before saying, “Tikki, if you come out I’ll give you another washer.”
Almost immediately, a small whirring and clicking came to life over by her bed. She turned just in time to see the small mechanical friend come hovering out from under her pillows, the little propeller antenna on her head spinning in unison.
“Did someone say something about washers?” She asked as her metallic jaw clicked with her yawn.
Marinette smiled, holding up her mechanism. “Tikki, look! I finished it.”
Immediately, the little kwami’s eyes flashed and went wide, her metal face contorting as she backed away a little. “Is this one going to explode? Or is it going to start blasting steam again? I really don’t want another rusted joint.”
Marinette frowned, huffing as she grabbed a strip of leather from her wall, draping it around her machine then tying it around herself like a sash. The cold metal pressed into her back as she started towards the ladder in the corner of her room. “I’m sure I have it right this time. Last time I’d put one too many pumps in it. And the time before I’d used a piston when I should have used a pressurized method instead.”
Her little kwami hitched to the side a little as she flew, her head twitching slightly. “If you say so. Hey, I seem to be having trouble with my left rotator again. Can you take a look at it?”
Marinette’s eyebrow rose. “Another? Tikki, are you sure we shouldn’t just shut you down and take you to Fu for a day or two?”
“And leave the Plat without a Ladybug? Not gonna happen.” The kwami said, just as her twitching antenna forced her to land on her wielder's shoulder.
“Alright, if you say so.” Marinette relented as she pushed her way into the upper story.
She crawled her way into the greenhouse above. The tinted blue glass let in just enough light for the flowers of this area, and the yellow and clear glasses of the other rooms cascaded slightly over the polished floors.
She could see the clouds outside and switched on the light regulator, hearing the small engine come to life as she approached a panel in the wall.
“Are you sure this one’s going to work?” Tikki asked again, always fussing.
Marinette smiled reassuringly, pulling the machine off of her back. “I’m positive. Now, stand back.”
The Kwami flew to the other side of the greenhouse, burrowing her way into a flower’s petals to keep herself protected.
Marinette grinned and pried open the panel, looking at the empty mess of pipes and wires within. She started pulling them out, plugging them into different ports on the new mechanism. The water lines fit perfectly, and after a few adjustments of the electrical wires, everything was in place.
When she slid the piece into place she was pleased by how well the other lines moved around it. Still, she had to see if it would work.
She stood back a little, pulling out a pair of strapless goggles to hold over her eyes as she reached out. She flipped the switch in the middle of the machine and said a silent prayer.
She turned her back on the mechanism, waiting for it to start sparking, groaning, and blow once again. But, nothing of the sort happened. She heard the machine start up, and slowly started purring.
She spun in wonder, studying how the water easily flowed in and out of the machine, its knobs and gages reading all the right input and output values.
She didn’t celebrate yet, though. She ran to a bed of flowers that had been flooded for far too long and looked into it. That’s when she noticed that the water was slowly going down, the roots being revealed in their little pools of saturated soil.
She whirled as she heard a hose come to life on another table, dripping water out to the occupying plants. Another hissing started where some nutrients were being sprayed out in a mist.
She laughed and whirled in a circle, relishing in her accomplishment, running to slam the panel shut.
“Tikki! Tikki, it works!” She leaped into the air, her leather-clad hands clapping sharply in excitement as her booted feet landed back on the polished floor with a squeak.
The kwami came flying out, celebrating with the girl as they spun around the flower nursery.
Marinette had been working on a system regulator for months now, and finally, she’d finished it. Now, she could keep all of her flowers healthy, and keep her business running.
She didn’t really need the flower business, not with the money from her family’s bakery still holding them up well. But, she still loved the idea of growing such beautiful things up on the Plat.
The Plat was the floating structure they lived on. It was a town that had long ago been raised from the ground by floating metallic balloons and large propellers on the bottom. It was a genius structure really. The entire thing was run on carbon dioxide from all the balloons and zeppelins that ran around the city. It basically worked like a plant in absorbing the compound and clouds and converting them into water, normal air, and energy.
So, they never had to go to the surface, saving them from facing the toxic air.
Why was it called the Plat? She didn’t know. Maybe it was short for ‘platform’? No one really knew or cared.
She knew it was once called Paris, and it still had the iconic Eiffel Tower, but she didn’t know really why this city had been lifted from the ground other than to escape the war and the poverty that followed.
Up here, there was only room for the rich (or at least better off). There were still slums in the city, and still those low in class, but nothing compared to the surface.
She’d been there once. She remembered when she was young and her parents had taken her to the surface to deliver food the to survivors and to those in need.
It was filthy on the surface, people wallowing and sleeping in collapsing huts, ditches, and ruins. She saw women on the street selling themselves for money, men walking about with guns strapped to their sides or on their backs, and children running from person to person to pickpockets until they were caught and hauled into alleys, not to be seen again.
It made her appreciate just how lucky she was to live on the Plat.
Well, she appreciated almost all of it.
During her visist she'd been looking for some fresh air to breathe when she’d stumbled into a flower shop on the outskirts of town. The air in there was fresh and smelled sweet. She’d taken in big lungfuls before looking around the establishment in awe.
She’d never seen any sort of flora or fauna before, it being only a menace to the structure of the Plat with its roots and vines bending and rusting the metal streets and ground. But here, she saw working and beautifully sculpted boxes of plants.
The storekeeper gave her his remaining packages of flower seed, begging her to take them with her.
“God knows I can’t make use of them besides for breathing,” The old man claimed, his hands shaking. “Take them with you and share them with those up there. Please.”
So, she’d done as he asked.
It took a few months of experimenting and researching from the oldest books in the libraries, but she’d finally found all the correct methods for growing each kind of flower. Now, her business was booming, everyone wanting flowers for their galas and balls.
She grew anything from Baby’s Breathe to Yellow Hibiscus but found the most popular were orange Dahlia (a good compliment to the copper of the town hall), blue Balloon Flowers (typically outside venues), pink Carnations (thank you Chloe Bourgeois), and finally, cream and purple Ranunculus (only ordered by Mr. Gabriel Agreste himself).
Marinette gently sighed and settled down from her celebration to sit next to a box filled with cream Ranunculus. Her hand came out on its own accord, stroking a flower’s stem lovingly. She loved the flower on its own, but because it was tied to the Agrestes it made it her favorite.
Rarely did Mr. Agreste actually order the flowers for himself or even his own venue. No, most of the time he ordered them for his fashion shows, and more specifically, for his son’s photoshoots.
She flipped in her seat, flopping back against the metallic box as pure joy ran through her
Adrien Agreste, the one and only, had been photographed countless times now with her flowers in the background, or even accompanying him in the newest outfit and trend.
He never knew it was her of course, his father making sure never to let him know his old classmate was their florist (something to do with favoritism and rumors). But just the thought that he enjoyed the flowers as much as she did made her heart flutter.
Her thoughts were cut short as one of the hoses turned on, spraying a small stream up over the brim of her cap and into her face. She sat up sputtering and spitting as mud mixed in with her long braid and caked her hands in her attempts to scramble up.
She fell to the floor with a thunk, just as she heard a knock on the door to her main office just beyond a curtain to her right. She stood up, wiping her hands on an apron hanging near the door before stepping through and going to open up the shop.
And in came scrambling none other than her best friend Alya.
The brunette stumbled up to her friend, a grin plastered to her face as her hands clutched Marinette’s shoulders.
“Let me guess, another sighting?” Marinette chuckled before her friend could get a word out, trying to steady the panting and sweating young woman.
“Yes!” Alya shrieked and bent over, breathing heavily while raising a finger. Marinette smiled, unlatching Alya’s fingers from her to run and grab a chair from the consultation corner and a glass of water.
“So, where’d you see her this time?” Marinette asked as her friend threw herself into the chair.
“Not her this time.” Alya said as her breathing leveled out, her eyes going wide and bright. “I saw him. And it wasn’t even in an article.”
Marinette felt something in her chest move, whether it was dread or something else, she didn’t know. “You saw Chat Noir out today?”
Alya nodded so fast it was surprising her head didn’t snap off. “Yeah. He was out by the zeppelin district, and he was looking for someone.”
Marinette had to hold herself back from scowling. “Do you think he was looking for Ladybug?”
Alya’s eyes sparked. “Well, I mean, those lovebirds are inseparable. But we haven’t seen our crimson Lady in nearly a month! He must be desperate to see her again.”
Marinette spun away, walking to the counter to hide the grimace that crossed her face. “Oh, right, they’re like, star-crossed lovers or something, right?”
“Or something,” Alya said from the lip of her glass as she downed the rest of her water. “Have you ever seen those two around each other! I mean, they might as well just hold up a sign saying, ‘Cutest Couple Alive’.”
Marinette hoped Alya didn’t notice the growl that bubbled up her throat. “Well, if he’s out, then there must be a reason. Maybe another one of those, what were they called again? Akumas? Maybe one of them will show up and then you can get another shot of those two.”
Alya flounced back in the chair, throwing her arm over her face dramatically. “Oh, I wish, but fate is never that kind. And don't pretend to not know what's going on. We used to be attacked every other week during school.”
Marinette ground her teeth as she turned back around, desperate to find a new subject.
“Is that a new outfit?” She said suddenly, hoping it would be enough to distract her chatterbox friend.
Alya’s face turned coy as she smirked up at the raven-haired girl. “Oh, alright, I’ll stop with my fangasming for your sake. For your information, Ms. I-design-clothing-for-models-and-am-also-their-florist, it is new. Thanks for noticing.”
Alya was clad in an auburn overall romper with a red T-shirt peeking out the top. The tights that stretched down to her heeled boots were an acid washed amber with a single fingerless glove on her right arm to accompany.
Marinette knew the glove was actually made of a fabricated metal hybrid she’d made to protect Alya’s arm while she attempted to take pictures of Ladybug and Chat Noir, but she never thought she’d actually wear it.
On her hip, she still had her leather belt with her camera holder and emergency smoke bomb dispenser.
“It’s a good look for you.”
Alya grinned and got up to curtsy. “I’m glad it can impress even you.”
Marinette smiled and looked her friend over. “So, besides to bug me with more news on Ladynoir, did you come for anything else? I have to go work on some commissions for Mr. Bourgeois.”
Alya pouted, flopping back into her chair. “What is it illegal to bug your best friend now? Oh, how the times have changed.”
Marinette huffed fakely, rolling her eyes and smiling as she walked up to Alya. “Well, if you aren’t gonna leave, do you at least want to see the regulator I finished?”
Alya looked almost as shocked as Marinette had expected. “You actually got it working this time?”
Marinette nodded proudly, resting her hands on her hips. “Yep!”
“And it’s not going to explode like the last two?” Alya asked, cautiously raising her protected arm.
Marinette frowned. “The second one didn’t explode. It just blew a gasket and started spitting steam.”
“Same thing,” Alya said but she’d risen to her feet. “Alright, I’ll see.”
Marinette grinned and lead the way into the greenhouse. But just as the girls entered the sweet-smelling sanctuary a rumble shook the ground as a muffled explosion was heard from somewhere outside. Both girls braced themselves in a squat as the shaking slowly subsided, but each reaction was drastically different.
Marinette glared out at the column of smoke while Alya’s face split in a Cheshire grin and her eyes went alight. Marinette turned to her friend, a scowl covering her face. “No, Alya. We should stay here.”
“Oh, Mari, you’re such a buzzkill. You can stay here if you want. I need to go get some pictures.” Alya said, bouncing slightly as she slowly crept towards the door.
“Alya, no, wait!”
But before she could do anything the brunette had taken off, sprinting out the door and probably down the steal streets.
Marinette cursed under her breath and ran towards the other side of the shop, back to the hatch leading to her room. “Tikki? We have another one.”
The mechanical friend wasted no time in popping out and zipping over to her. “Finally! We haven’t been out in almost a month.”
“Well, now we're going for a little run,” Marinette said as she jumped down into her room, sliding on her knees over to the chest under her bed.
She pulled out her Ladybug outfit as she wrenched off the old timepiece that was pinned to her belt. She looked to her kwami as she stripped herself of her blouse and skirt.
“Transform me!” She commanded as she slipped on her shorts and her belted corset top.
She watched as her mechanical friend began to collapse in on herself, folding up in shuttered layers until she was about the size of a euro coin, and sank easily into the middle of the timepiece. From the edge shot out a cord and handle strong enough to easily hold her weight during a battle. From the other side shot out the small pebble that was the mechanic side of Ladybug.
She stood up, slipping on her boots as the wires and metal laces sprung forth from the pebble, wrapping around her shoes and up her body. Her legs were enveloped in the wires as they formed her red and black striped tights and came up to form the metallic collar at her throat. She flexed her arm as the metallic shoulder covering formed around her appendage.
The tights were actually a network of micro-fibers meant to help her jump higher, run longer and faster, and take impacts better. The shoulder guard allowed her to swing easier by taking the weight off her joint as she went from structure to structure. Wires laced out to take the belts off her corset, replacing them with large clock and gear fittings to help stabilize and protect her.
She quickly undid her braid and instead threw it up into a ponytail as it unwound itself. On her thigh, she replaced her sewing kit with a repair kit and a small sack which held the mini-mechanical ladybugs she’d been gifted.
The ladybugs were only for the end of the mission. After taking out the small butterfly that supplied the chemicals to anger a victim they would capture the mechanical insect and siphon out the compounds, leaving it harmless. Then they’d travel around the city repairing the damages of the battle, only to return to her sack within minutes.
The final touch was her cuffed leather gloves and her red and black spotted scarf tied around her eyes to hide her identity.
Now, she saw Ladybug, the vigilante who tormented Hawkmoth and was a ‘lover’ to Chat Noir.
She grinned at her reflection from across her room, holding the newly formed yo-yo in her hand. It was good to be back.
She tested her mechanical aids by leaping through her hatch, and out through a skylight in the greenhouse, perching gently on one of the support beams.
She grinned as the breeze from the high clouds tickled her eyes and threw her hair away from her neck. But her attention was soon taken up by the billowing column of black smoke that looked to be over in the mechanics district.
She frowned. Who would be upset over there? There was always work, and the people there were some of the nicest she’d met.
She took off running, using her yo-yo to sling from one roof to the next, the air rushing by giving her the buzz of the chase.
But the buzz still wasn’t enough to take away her awareness of a presence that soon joined in her run.
They came leaping in from the South, their foot pointed right at her head. Marinette rolled to the side luckily, just as the black-clad mass landed next to her on the steel tiled roof.
She heard claws clattering and metal scraping metal as the figure took the impact hard, but still sprung back to their feet.
Marinette sneered as she was forced to a halt, turning to the young man standing at the crest of the roof. “It’s been a while, Kitty.”
Chat Noir’s grin was just as sickening as always. “Ah, My Lady. It's been some time. But I suppose absence does make the heart grow fonder.”
Marinette grimaced, standing back to her full height. “You'd need a heart to begin with for that to be true.”
Chat raised a hand, pressing it to his chest in feigned injury as he leaned back, using a pole on the ceiling to swing him around in a lazy circle as he groaned mockingly. “Why, My Lady!” he said in mock horror as he swung back around, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, “I’m hurt. Don’t you know this old black cat has already given it to you.”
“Are you talking about that net bomb you gave me?” She asked with a scowl twisting her features at the memory.
To his credit, it had been vaguely heart-shaped.
He smiled, shrugging. “Purr-haps.”
She grimaced, studying the young man.
He still looked the same as before.
He wore black knee high boots with black dress pants, no doubt to hide his own enhancing mechanisms. His belt buckle that was frankly too large was accompanied by two suspenders in helping to hold down the white open-necked shirt he wore. His jacket was still covered in the same patchy straps and metallic panels here and there, no doubt feeding to gloves at the end of his hands.
She’d never really cared much to acquaint herself with those claws, but they still fascinated her. She'd guessed they were operated by different pumps in the sleeves, feeding to the kerosene jets and the sparking rotor in his thumb. More pumps and pressurizers gave him superhuman grip and his claws the ability to extend on command.
The mechanical ears that were perched in his floppy, windblown hair seemed to serve no purpose until one noticed the small wire running down to two clear earpieces. Turns out, they were actually used to listen and allowed for better hearing than most animals had.
His tail, on the other hand, served no purpose other than to annoy her.
She looked up into this green tinted goggles and glared. “Well, I suppose we’ve done a good job of convincing the public thus far. My friend thinks we’re the cutest couple alive.”
“Oooh.” Chat plopped down onto the top of the roof, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he smiled again, “Do tell.”
She saw something spark in his eyes as he looked across to her, almost daring her not to go on. Her expression hardened as she came to remember that he probably already knew everything there was to know about them in the media.
He’d been looking for her after all.
Luckily, she was kept from saying anything too harsh as another blast shook the ground beneath them.
The pair locked eyes and there was a silent agreement to get back to this later.
They took off running, charging over the roofs as Chat closed the distance between them in a single roll.
“I hope you haven’t gotten rusty in your acting, My Lady.” He purred as they cleared another alley.
Marinette kept herself from growling at the young man. “Oh, I’m not the one you have to worry about, Kitty.”
And there was the long-awaited snarl as Chat took off ahead of her, dropping down to run along the street instead.
Marinette smiled in spite of herself. She knew that nickname annoyed him, and he knew she used it just to bug the living hell out of him.
They’d been in a feud ever since he tried to capture her for the first time. Until then, they’d worked together just fine. Now, for some reason, he thought she’d stolen something from his father, even though she had no idea who his father even was.
Still, he always tried and failed, to take her captive for the sake of his dear old pops.
Each battle was a new adventure for them, and after getting a bolt the size of a tire thrown at her head, Marinette knew this was going to be another fun one.