Chapter Text
"He's innocent, damn it!" Conan yelled, grabbing onto the cop's sleeve. "Cet homme est innocent!" The cop glared tiredly at him, shaking him off roughly enough that Conan staggered into a wall. He slumped against it, the wind knocked out of him, watching as the Parisian police finished shoving the victim's fiancé -- blond, resigned, broken -- into the back of the car.
Off to the side, clustered in the middle of the restaurant's other patrons, the dark-haired waitress he knew was the murderer... her expression cracked, vindictive glee for just a split second before returning to a mockery of the same rubbernecking amazement on everyone else's face.
His French wasn't perfect, but he was good enough to understand, dammit. He'd even made a show of translating for Kogoro, rather than doing the sleeping thing, since this wasn't Tokyo. And still... and still -- he blinked back furious tears -- and still, the police wouldn't...
Something black flickered at the corner of his eye.
Poor little boy. Adults never listen, do they?
What the--?
I can give you the power to make them listen, the voice crooned. All of them. No adult will ever ignore a child's testimony again... all I want...
Yes...? some instinctive curiosity in Conan prodded.
Everything went black.
-0-0-0
Polka dots. Why was half the new seasonal fabric polka dots? It wasn't even springtime!
Marinette groaned, shuffling past a rack of truly horrible gray-and-pastel print. Wasn't there anything that would look appropriate on someone over age seven? No there was not. "My kingdom for something pretty..." she muttered.
Her phone buzzed at her hip.
Akuma alert! blared the Ladyblog, and Marinette blinked. She was shopping with Alya, they weren't anywhere... near... where was Alya, anyway? Er, how long had she been buried in the fabric bins, for that matter? (That question probably answered the first.)
"--ive near the Grand Palais!" Alya yelled breathlessly into the live stream, her eyes bright with excitement and the picture bouncing as she ran. "The akuma seems to be flying towards the Avenue de Champs-Elysees! No sign of Ladybug or Chat Noir ye--" Something unseen hit Alya, sending the picture spinning, the phone clearly blasted from her hand. It clattered loudly against the sidewalk, then someone -- a lot of someones -- screamed in raw, animal pain.
Oh Dieu what had it done?!
Marinette abandoned her fabrics on the floor. "Tikki!" she choked out as she ducked under the cutting counter. "Spots on!"
Outside, "Ugh! What's that smell?" Ladybug gasped, covering her mouth and nose. There was a thin gray mist swirling around her ankles, half-covering dozens of huddled, shivering bodies. It reeked like rotting lemons and worse, but it didn't seem to be triggering anything but the need to retch. Ugh.
She tossed out her yo-yo and swung herself up onto the rooftop, taking a breath of fresh air to settle her stomach, then peered around for the akuma.
To the west and fluttering slowly across an intersection, was something that looked like a bright red butterfly. As Ladybug walked cautiously closer, she could see the wings were actually a giant bowtie, dwarfing the human figure between them. It looked like a kid, maybe a bit older than Manon, in spandex mostly of the same bright red but with maroon boots. The pattern over its knees was odd, more like splatter than a hem. It had its maroon-gloved hands crossed unconcernedly behind its back, and a head of ordinary medium-brown hair.
It -- he, unless its parent liked cute little pixie cuts -- dodged her yo-yo without even bothering to look towards her. Rude. "Hey! What are you doing?!"
He turned a little bit, just enough that he was clearly looking out over the rooftops instead of responding to her, revealing a stark white cheek streaked with red down from the bottom point of his black mask.
"Answer me! Stop hurting those people!" She took another shot.
He dodged again. What was with this guy? Usually the akuma couldn't shut up! It was all 'mwahaha I am the so-and-so, look at my revenge which is for this reason, give me the miraculous'! And a kid, especially, should be monologuing dramatically like a cartoon villain!
Was this a kid? Akuma could change appearance pretty drastically... They didn't usually, but it was possible.
A shadow landed with a familar thump just to her left, and Ladybug grinned. Backup. "You took your time, kitty," she said lightly.
"You're just early, my Lady. A cat is always purrfectly on time."
"There you are," the akuma said, its young voice flat and low, unlike every other akuma Ladybug had ever heard. He turned to face them both dead-on. His costume had a sort of tux-like look to its chest, a white dress shirt and maroon lapels, but no tie. "I am The Minimalist," he explained, finally doing something like normal akuma did. Then he promptly dropped into weirdness again. "I'm sure you know how this goes." No, that was too weird. Too old and mature. He couldn't be a kid, he just couldn't. "Your miraculous, please."
He didn't sound like he actually expected them to obey. That worked just fine for Ladybug!
This time, when he dodged their attacks, he zipped straight up into the air, wings fluttering faster. Faster. They began to buzz, a red blur behind him, and two thick drops of blood welled up from his eyes.
He blinked.
The shockwave knocked them both off their feet.
After one stunned moment, just long enough to gasp in a breath, the fire hit. Ladybug choked on a scream. Chat Noir didn't; his yowling screech raced up into terrifying heights without any barrier at all.
Was this what happened to Alya?
It hurt. It hurt like she was dying...
She was breathing. She was breathing and it smelled like rotting lemons. She was breathing and there was no fire, it was all fading away, rough coals pulsing in her joints, embers and ash in her veins.
She was breathing.
She still had her mask, still had her suit, fingers of honeycombed leathery-steel cold pressed against her face. She still had her miraculous.
Why would-- Chat! She shoved herself upright, ignoring the screaming in her muscles, looking for the akuma-- he must've gone for Chat's ring first, must've-- must've--
He was still hovering in the same spot.
Chat was a little ball of black in a thinning cloud of mist, ears so flat they could only be seen by their color in his messy blond hair. So he was still transformed, still had his miraculous too. How long had the... whatever the akuma did... how long had it taken, that the Minimalist hadn't even bothered to try?
"Chat..." She stumbled over to him on wobbly legs, one eye on the unmoving akuma. "Chat, come on, we have to--"
He swiped at her, hissing, and the Chat Noir that unfurled under her hands was a little kid. Wet green eyes landed on her and flew wide. "My Lady, you're little!" he squeaked. Then, "I'm little!"
I'm litt--? No. Panic later, fight now. Ladybug stood, one hand on Chat's shoulder, and began circling her yo-yo. Or, well, tried. It hit the rooftop under her feet on the first spin. She shortened the string and tried again, and this time managed to get it going properly. So. That was a shield, at least. A small one. But they were smaller too, so it probably all evened out.
The Minimalist waited until Chat was on his feet, baton out and extended to half its usual length, growling very squeakily under his breath. The outline of Papillon's mask was glowing over the akuma's own, but he seemed to not even notice. Until, "Papillon, you're an idiot."
"I catnot argue with that," Chat muttered.
"I'm not telling you how you're stupid," The Minimalist continued. "Adults don't listen to children, remember?" The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "That was very stupid of you, too." Papillon's outline pulsed, somehow clearly furious.
"I get the feline," Chat mused quietly, "that Papillon screwed up somewhere."
"No, you think?"
The Minimalist frowned. "I'm not talking to you until I come get you. Go away." He jerked his head sharply, and it was like the purple light got slapped off his face. Then he turned cold blue eyes on them, and Ladybug tensed. "Are you all right?"
Chat hissed. "I'm meowniature!"
"Yeah, you're all right," Ladybug replied on automatic.
The Minimalist nodded. Then he tipped his head down towards the streets. "I think I got everybody in Paris with that one," he said mildly, much to Ladybug's horror. "Everybody outside, anyway. It's a nice day, there were probably thousands and thousands of them. Your miraculous, please."
Thousands and thousands of them.
Thousands and thousands and "You expect us to let you get away with that?" She threw her yo-yo, Chat's baton swinging over her head right on target to hit the Minimalist if he dodged her shot-- but no, he somersaulted backwards and kicked off Chat's baton, letting it propel him to the next intersection. "Get back here!"
Of course he didn't. He flew ahead, backwards, watching them scramble over the rooftops. A few times he did slow, when she misjudged a vault or Chat's baton overbalanced and left him flailing at the edge of a roof before catching himself, but for the most part he stayed just out of range until he touched down on the Arc de Triomphe. Ladybug managed to land unsteadily on one end of the monument; Chat made a clumsy three-point landing on the other, both of them successfully not falling into the heavy traffic on the roundabout. They'd effectively boxed The Minimalist in.
The Minimalist's wings were already fluttering up towards a blur. "Ready to be reasonable?"
"I purrlieve that's our question!"
"Give it up, Minimalist! You've already gotten everybody!"
The Minimalist smirked. Two more bloody tears, and this time the explosion knocked them off the monument. Ladybug caught and swung herself under the arch, teeth rattling; Chat, she saw out of the corner of her eye, had simply dug his claws into the stone and hung off the corner. He pulled himself up as she landed.
All around, screams went up amidst the unmistakable sound of cars crashing. Ladybug spun, her heart in her throat. The drivers... he could target people who weren't outside. And he had: the entire traffic circle was a pile of skidding vehicles. Some flipped, their tires still spinning as the cabins squished. Others crumpled into each other, jamming up across the plaza under the Arc, or across lanes of traffic, or up onto the sidewalks where shrunken people had still been pain-stricken, struggling little heaps. It was the same all up and down every street she could see, nearly a dozen of them coming into the Arc's roundabout alone.
So many people. So many children.
She was going to beat his bratty little ass down and rip that akuma out of his giant, obvious bowtie wings. And she'd start the beating with his horrible blood-streaked face.
She very nearly took Chat's head off when she whapped her yo-yo out across the monument. The Minimalist had already taken to flight, a bright red spot fluttering south down another road.
Chat vaulted past her, tail a furious C high over his back, yowl choking up into coughed hisses of pure feline rage. He landed on a rooftop just a split second before she did, and left shingles torn free in his wake.
Where is the akuma going? He can't have any more-- A flash of a face at one of the windows across the street caught her eye, then another. Adult faces. He still hadn't gotten people who were inside buildings. "He still has hostages!" Ladybug snapped.
He still has hostages. Where is he taking us?
Taking us. Not running to.
He could fly faster if he wanted, or higher, just by turning around to look where he's going instead of watching us! Where is he taking us?!
The Eiffel Tower loomed off to the right, lined gold by the sunset. The American Cathedral's lone steeple got them higher, high enough that The Minimalist had to soar nearly five stories more to get out of reach again. He was angling off the road, over the one long block that divided this road from the bridge...
He wanted them on the other side of the river.
Why?
What was straight in that direction? The Military School, UNESCO, the... the...
The hospital. Surgeries. Size-calibrated medicines. Labor and delivery.
"We can't let him get across the river!" she shouted. Chat barely glanced at her, a flick of green eyes that went right back to the akuma's very obvious wings. He may as well have shouted 'how do you expect to stop him?!'
The rooftops ended. There was only a riverside intersection, cars piled like a junkyard fence across the way and down the bridge.
"Cataclysm!" Chat screamed, leaping across the cars with claws outstretched.
"Chat what are you doing?!"
The bridge shuddered, great cracks breaking through the concrete and gushing dust, then collapsed into the river, taking dozens of cars with it. Cars that could've had people inside, a bridge they needed to chase The Minimalist, and now Chat had only five minutes and what was he thinking?!
"Oh no!" Chat shouted, high and mocking. "The bridge is out! We can't pawsibly follow that akuma to give him our miraculous!"
Ladybug was going to kill him. "Have you gone insane?!"
"Oh no, My Lady," Chat purred, eyes fixed with furious glee across the river. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
Ladybug followed his stare, only to see The Minimalist had stopped in his tracks.
Granted, he had his hands on his hips and was giving them the most skeptical look she'd seen since her mother nearly caught her sneaking back inside after a late-night akuma attack, but he'd stopped.
"He needs us to follow him," Chat breathed. "Not just wants... he needs us to follow him, so we can be there to give in to his demands. Attacking the hospital doesn't work if we aren't there to truly prevent it."
"There are other bridges," Ladybug hissed.
"But now he's coming back to lead us to one."
And indeed, The Minimalist was hovering on the far riverbank, watching them in exasperation. He glanced right, then left, then came to a decision and headed for the Eiffel Tower. Very. Very. Slowly. Watching them as if to say 'well? Come on then, I won't wait forever.'
The Tower bridge was one of the longer stretches away in this part of the city, though still just about a minute at the speeds they could go. She had to think. What could she do? Chat was almost out of time. The Seine was narrow enough at the Tower bridge that even if Chat still had Cataclysm the ruse wouldn't work again. She needed a blind spot to get her Lucky Charm... but it had to be closer to the bridge, or she wouldn't have enough time to get near The Minimalist to use it.
An intersection. Six cars lay piled up over each other, engines steaming, wedged in such a way that there was a round gap just barely large enough for a couple of people to stand. Or for one superhero to cast a spell.
"Lucky Charm!"
A man's black trenchcoat and fedora landed in her hands. What the...? Wasn't it supposed to be red with spots...?
Oh. The lining was, on both pieces, like the outer shell was just one giant spot.
What was she supposed to do with these?
She swung herself back up into the chase, the coat a tight bundle in her arms. Hopefully The Minimalist wouldn't notice. Or at least, not as much as he would if it was streaming out behind her like some sort of cape.
That was definitely not how she was supposed to use it, she was sure.
They reached the outer corners of the Trocadero Gardens, wooded and oddly peaceful behind their junkyard barrier, and she only had seconds left to figure out what to do with this weird charm!
Her vision grayed out as she cast around for something. Nothing in the street. Nothing in the gardens. Nothing in the cars. Nothing on the -- oh dieu on the bridge, there was no more time.
High on a lamppost at the very start of the bridge, Chat glowed red in a way that wasn't the quickly-clouding sunset.
"Here!" she shouted, throwing the coat and hat at him.
He caught them easily, bewildered. "What am I suppurrsed to do with this?!"
"Just-- try something!"
Chat swept the coat around his shoulders and flipped the hat on his head. "Chat Noir!" he said in a truly terrible American gangster accent.
Ladybug opened her mouth to snap at him -- this was no time for jokes! -- but an inhuman screech of utter, terrified rage the likes of which hadn't even come out of Chat's throat tonight drowned out whatever she would've said.
The Minimalist shot across the river, straight at Chat, like he was going to tear Chat to gory bits right up to his blood-covered elbows. Chat shrieked and toppled off the lamppost, but The Minimalist was in reach.
Ladybug threw her yo-yo and tore the bowtie wings right off his back.
The Minimalist kept going, right over the lamppost and tumbling end over end across the crashed cars and into the park beyond.
The bowtie was a plain weave, and tore right down the weft easily with her enhanced strength. The akuma struggled free with a pop, and as always tried to flutter away. A quick capture and purification took care of that.
Chat clambered over the cars, one ear hanging low. The coat was draped over one small arm; the hat, held in his other tiny, clawed hand. As he handed them both to her, his ring beeped. One spot left.
"I've got to--"
"Go. Yes." She gave him just enough time to vault over the cars and out of sight, then threw the Lucky Charm up. "Miraculous Ladybug!" It exploded into a swarm of ladybugs.
The cars uncrumpled themselves. Engines stopped smoking. Inside, people started to murmur: first as high-pitched children's voices, then -- as the swarm tickled over Ladybug, leaving her fully grown once more -- adults'. Far down the river, the bridge Chat had broken reassembled, dust pulling itself up out of the water and flowing into solid concrete, cars reappearing in orderly lines.
Orderly lines which didn't happen on the road in front of her. Ladybug's heart sank. The cars were repaired, the people okay... but they were still all piled up. Her miracle wasn't strong enough to fix that part.
Her earring beeped. One more spot.
Oh no oh no oh no-- Only one place had cover here. She cast her yo-yo up and over the cars, finding a tree to swing herself across the road, and landed next to a small form that caught weakly at her ankle.
Medium-brown hair. A little red bowtie and matching sneakers. A child's blazer, in blue instead of red. No bloody tear tracks, but she knew the blue eyes and small face under askew glasses.
"He didn't kill her," the boy told her. "He didn't." And the boy passed out.
They'd crossed a quarter of the city in fighting him. She had no idea where he came from.
She had maybe thirty seconds left.
She lifted the boy and ran into the park. If nothing else, he probably wouldn't wake in time to see her detransform... she could just say Ladybug left him with her! Oh dieu what do I do.
Blond hair. White shirt. Sitting on a park bench like he wasn't quite sure what had happened or that his legs were steady yet. Still looked like he was at a photoshoot.
"Adrien!" Oh thank goodness someone she could trust. She plopped the boy into his lap, his arms coming up to cradle the child instinctively. "Akuma victim don't know who I've got to go!" and she ran for the trees.
She barely managed to get behind one before the transformation fell.