The sun was shining, birds were chirping. Clouds floated lazily by the sun, temporarily blocking out it's light and sending out promises of happier times being just around the corner. That was, until the building exploded, throwing black smoke and debris into the air. Vixen was thrown back by the blast, her shoulder colliding harshly with the asphalt. She sat up, holding the injured shoulder with her opposite hand, knowing it would bruise. A hoarse scream drew her attention away from her shoulder and back to the building. She stared at the carnage in horror, frozen in place despite the sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

Smoke billowed up from the charred and broken remains of the warehouse. The scent of blood was thick in her nostrils and she spat a mouthful of the red liquid out, a metallic aftertaste assaulting her tongue. Cold wind blew through the ruins, biting through her suit and stinging her eyes. She looked around, blinking grit and ash out of her eyes. Vixen pushed herself up into a crouch and took a deep breath, sucking hazy air into her lungs and coughing up more blood. She got up, stumbling toward the building, pausing at every opening to see where her brother might be. Something's wrong.

She stepped in and looked around the warehouse, taking in the partially burned machines and blackened wooden walls. Something was wrong. Shifting a charred log with her foot, she glared at the floor through narrow eyes. It seemed oddly familiar. She looked around again, moving to the end of the corridor. Her footsteps kicked up ash and dust. Her foot hit something soft and she knelt down to get a closer look, brushing debris and ashes away from what turned out to be a body. There was a yellowed piece of paper on the chest and she grabbed it for later investigation.

It almost looks like… no, it can't be. Her breathing became ragged and uneven as she released her hold on the body and backed away from it, blood roaring in her ears. She practically flew out into the courtyard, her heart pounding. The tattered note and the mutilated face seemed to stare into her soul and she could almost hear it's mocking laughter. The image was burned onto the inside of her eyelids. This isn't how it's supposed to go. She turned and fled through the front gate, trying to put as much distance between herself and the industrial district as possible. Her foot caught on a rock and she lurched forward, flailing her arms out to try and regain her balance. Vixen slammed into the ground, stones digging into her face with her arm crushed under her. Groaning, she pushed herself up and blinked rapidly, her hair falling into her eyes. Blood wept from a wound on her neck and seeped from between her fingers as she pressed a hand to her side. She didn't think the clones had sustained enough damage to make her bleed.

The fire department had shown up, as had the police. One officer helped her to her feet, telling her she needed medical attention, but she only heard the voice distantly. Her eyes were still glued to the building, to the fire and smoke. That awful face. She couldn't get it out of her head, the horrible mutilation. She'd registered somewhere in her mind that it was her brother's body she'd run from, her brother that had been deformed and killed. The note was still crumpled in her fist. She allowed herself to be lead to the paramedics, who briefly looked over her, but her wounds were already starting to heal. They let her leave soon after, claiming she didn't need help. If only they knew how she was handling this latest fight. The akuma was gone, but that didn't make her feel any better.

The reporters swarmed her as she was leaving the scene. "Vixen, can you tell us about the akuma?"

"Vixen, where is your partner?"

"What made the building explode?"

"Why didn't you stop this?"

That made her stop. Why hadn't she stopped this? Why had she let her brother go into that warehouse alone? Where was the akuma now? He'd said he'd taken care of it, but why would he have needed to go back in if it was gone?

"Vixen, is the death of your partner connected to you?"

That was a stupid question. Of course his death was connected to her.

"Is his death your fault?"

Something inside her snapped and she glared at the reporters. A low growl rose in the back of her throat, her eyes narrowing. How dare they accuse her of causing his death! She considered attacking them all right then, but she might lose her miraculous if she did that. Rhys was always lecturing her about using her powers correctly. She also constantly talked about the kwamis in Paris though, so maybe her ramblings were just like the terms and conditions that no one ever read.

"Was my partner's death my fault?" She growled out, baring her fangs at the reporter who'd asked the question. "Is that the kind of thing you publish in your paper? Nothing, but the negative things about what my partner and I do? How about I ask you a question. Is the fact that your paper is failing your fault?" She snarled.

There were audible gasps and Vixen realized she'd probably just labeled herself to the public as some sort of vigilante or anti-hero. They didn't usually support those. Or maybe, she'd labeled herself an unstable criminal. Those got even less support than vigilantes.

The reporters had overcome their shock and were clamoring toward her now. They shoved cameras and microphones in her face, their voices merging and turning into a big blur of noise. Her heart rate sped up, her eyes widened and she looked around, hoping for some sort of escape to present itself. Why did they want her attention so badly? Despite what they thought, she wasn't a hero, she didn't do any of the "heroic" things she did to help them.

They were crowding closer now and some civilians had joined the reporters. Vixen's eye twitched and a headache started. She pressed the heel of her hand into her eye. Most people thought she was weird, but it usually worked. They pressed closer to her and her adrenaline spiked and she tried to back away from them. Finally, her patience ran dry and she screamed. Not a normal, frustrated scream either. The sound that came out of her mouth was like the wail of a banshee and it made every person within earshot drop what they were doing and cover their ears. Vixen stopped, breathing heavily and looked around. They were all looking at her like she was some sort of freak now.

She turned and ran, accusing whispers following her home. She dropped into the alley behind her house and untransformed, running inside before someone could see her. She'd messed up. This wasn't how the day was supposed to have gone. Her kwami floated up to her eye level, glaring at her. "What was that?"

She couldn't answer, she wasn't there. In that moment, in her head, she was still watching that building explode, watching her brother die. She was still kneeling next to his mutilated body and she couldn't stop it. She heard crinkling and noticed that she still had the note clutched in her fist. She slowly flattened it back out and read it, her eyes narrowing and anger surging through her.

Your brother was even more useless to me than I thought he'd be. -Hawkmoth