"Easy does it, Ash."
The girl shot an icy glare at Ish after he spoke, but her look was thankfully blocked by the visor of her Guardian uniform. She knew she should have been grateful that he held her up on her right side while Ricky held her up to her left, but the hurt she felt blinded her to their concern. Neither of them let her left foot strike the ground and she elevated her boot as best she could. Her attempts to help them out by hopping on her uninjured right foot were in vain. They were carrying her, and at the moment she hated them for having to carry her.
Troy, Tua, and Marty followed the trio from a slight distance behind. All of them were armored and ventured towards the blue light in the center of the Hall of Knowledge. From the column of light the bespectacled head and neck of R.Z. 6.0 watched them come closer, and the Guardians stopped before him.
"We were able to stop Wild Card from getting away with the Browns Megacore," Ish reported.
R.Z. 6.0 nodded with a stolid face, but his hologram contained a twinkle of despair. His desire that Wild Card would turn away from chaos survived his expectations of the villain's continued malice.
"But Ash got hurt," Marty added. Ash wanted to smack him for stating the obvious.
"I'm fine," she snapped. "It's just a sprain."
"We still need to take a look at it," R.Z. insisted. Out of the edge of the room, Shandra emerged, her hair carried back into a ponytail. The adult woman guided Ash and her carriers to a platform with a translucent projection beside it. Aside from the modification in hairstyle, Shandra had not seemed to change in the years since Ash had become a Guardian. She would always be a second mom to her.
In a surge of energy the Guardian suits vanished, and the Guardians were ordinary human teens again. Each of them shrunk a few inches, and as the power of the Core left her, Ash felt weaker. She missed the days when she easily gained a foot or two when she transformed, but those days were gone, as were the days she wore her blue-sleeved shirt and a ponytail. Instead, her red hair was loose over a gray hoodie. She was fourteen now. She worried she was as tall as she was going to get.
And as she looked at her teammates, who all now had a couple of inches on her, she remembered that they were going to get even taller in the next few years.
Ish and Ricky lowered Ash onto the medical platform. They and the other three boys looked at her with concern. Their pity rang in her head like a siren, and it took all of Ash's strength to steady her tongue and not yield to the pain pulsing from her foot.
"I believe Ashley may need a minute alone," R.Z. suggested. "Mrs. Taylor can help with the diagnosis, but the rest of you may consider your assignments completed."
"I'll be fine, guys," Ash insisted to her teammates. "I'll text you when I'm done."
Marty, Tua, and Troy slowly separated themselves from her, sustaining solemn expressions. Ricky and Ish stayed by her side.
"Ash," Ish insisted, "I'd really like to stay."
"As would I..." Ricky began. He dropped his right hand and touched Ash's hand, both hands finding themselves in a quick clasp. After a second they released each other from their mutual touch and Ricky turned toward Ish.
"...but I trust Ash," Ricky finished, staring Ish in the eye. He lowered his head and walked to the exit that led to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
"You can't just abandon her!" Ish yelled.
"Ash needs her space," Shandra replied. "I know you want to be there, but trust me. I'll take good care of her."
Bitterly, Ish broke himself away from Ash with resignation, and as the sounds of his steps grew smaller, Ash felt herself calm slightly. As she reclined on the table, she spied a large-headed friend walking towards her.
"Patriots Rusher, would you like to assist us?" R.Z. asked.
The figure in the silver football helmet held his right thumb aloft in reaction, which made Ash smile both on the inside and the outside. For all the things that changed over the past few years her love of the Patriots had only grown.
Seconds and minutes inched along as the throbbing in her foot would not stop. The Patriots Rusher and Shandra lifted her leg and worked her tightening shoe loose. They wrapped gauze around her foot then walked out of the sight of Ash.
"This is uncharacteristic," R.Z. said, eliminating the quiet that had made the constant pain bearable.
"You don't have to sugarcoat it," Ash blurted out. "I know why I'm messing up."
"I was unaware of any problems with your performance. I referred to the injury sustained when your Guardian powers were active. Typically your Core levels would prevent serious physical injury."
"But they didn't." Ash's nose clogged up and her eyes itched, ready to water. "I don't think I can be a Guardian any more. I put the team in danger because I couldn't do the job."
"I can understand your concern, but do not be so hard on yourself. Overthinking your mistakes will only lead to more mistakes."
"No, I'm just not good enough. I've lost my touch...and I know why."
"Enlighten me, Ash. To what do you attribute your observation?"
"It's because I'm a girl." She spat out the sour words before they could burn her mouth. "I know it's been a couple of years since I've been able to play with the Bulldogs, but I wanted to think I could still be a superhero and be part of the team. Now I'm only a liability. I'm getting hurt and Wild Card got away because of me."
Her words came to a halt and a membrane of silence covered the air, making the pain present but tolerable. As she breathed, R.Z. gave her a moment in the wake of her own thoughts. She deserved this hurt and to be trapped in a bubble of noiseless suffering.
"Ash," R.Z. said, freeing Ash of her thoughts, "I have something to show you which may be of interest. Please turn your attention to the main screen."
Another translucent rectangle appeared above Ash at an angle. She propped her upper body and steadied her attention on the display. Video played in front of her, but it was neither game footage nor any surveillance related to the NFL or Guardian duties. It was late afternoon in the area shown, which was a stark contrast to the late morning it was now. There was a woman's voice speaking, although there were other voices in the background.
"This is an active stream from a blog called the Ladyblog," R.Z. explained.
"I can't understand what they're saying," Ash admitted.
"That's because it is in French. This is happening in Paris. But if you view the events you may be able to overcome the language barrier."
The camera focused on a figure that was hardly human, a bunny shaped like a human being but dressed as a clown. At first, Ash thought it was a person in a costume, but her celerity was too pure for any standard outfit. That meant either the person was wearing an augmented costume, or it was someone possessing skill above the limits of a human.
"What is that?" Ash asked.
"This is a supervillain," R.Z. answered. "This individual calls herself 'Mad Hare.' Observe the damage this supervillain has done."
The person operating the camera panned to a truck and other vehicles that were turned over. Shattered windows and upturned crates and people littered the edges of the shot.
"We have to help them!" Ash shouted.
"Your concern is appreciated," R.Z. replied, "but help will arrive very soon."
His words preceded emergence of two human teenagers the camera focused on. They landed near a fountain that was in the middle of the battlefield. One was a dark-haired girl who was covered by a red unitard with black spots, while the other was in all black. For a moment, Ash briefly mused both were fans of the Cardinals and the Steelers, but the cat ears and green eyes of the male teenager dissuaded her of that notion.
"She is called 'Miraculous Ladybug' or 'Ladybug,'" R.Z. stated. "Her partner in the black is known as 'Cat Noir. '"
"Lucky Charm!" cried the teenager in red on the projection.
Ash stared as a bag twice the size of Ladybug manifested from the sky and dropped in her arms, but the heroine caught and carried it. She whispered something to the teenager in black and he nodded. The two of them bounced around, the girl carrying the bag with ease as the speeding rabbit tried to tag them. Although their opponent was fast, she ran in straight lines, never feinting or turning.
Ash could not make out the entirety of the strategy. Ladybug went off-screen beyond the recorder's ability to follow. Meanwhile, her blocker and partner, Cat Noir, touched the concrete edge of the fountain. All of a sudden it crumbled, sending water running in the direction of the opponent. The two celebrated to Ash's confusion, but she soon comprehended what she saw.
The girl had formed the plan and he had followed it, just like she used to do when she was backup quarterback for the Bulldogs. The footage continued to play as R.Z. spoke, and Ash's pain became more bearable.
"Ash," R.Z. declared, "it is not because you are a girl that you were injured. This girl, Ladybug, has saved Paris from villains recently."
"She's completely awesome!" Ash yelled.
"And I'm sure that when you see her she will say the same to you."
"What do you mean?"
"I was going to wait until it was time for your next assignment to tell you alongside the others, but I may as well inform you now. I am planning on sending you and the others to Paris in the very near future."
"Paris?"
"Yes." He took a virtual breath. "A trip abroad would be needed for your continuing education both as students and as Guardians. However there is a risk. As you know, the Passage does not extend outside of the reach of the Megacores or the communities they belong to. When you are in Paris you and the other Guardians will not be able to defend the Megacores."
"That means we can't go." Ash lowered her eyelids.
"On the contrary, I believe the Guardians will be needed overseas. Remember that Wild Card is not our only enemy. I am concerned the Anticorians may be planning on travelling across the ocean as well. Traces of Anticorian material have been detected on long range scans, and the energy readings from this battle are consistent with that of Anticorian technology."
"But we can't fight the Anticorians over there and Wild Card here."
"I believe that the trip will be short enough that Wild Card will not have the opportunity to strike. You are not the only one impaired in the skirmish. If my assumption is correct, his containment suit may need some time to repair."
She recalled the icy power pass Ricky threw right at the center of Wild Card's chest, hitting him squarely in the W. She had never seen an attack of that power and precision. All because she was hurt.
"Besides, you will be as good as new before you know it," another voice told Ash. She turned to face the Patriots Rusher, who had spoken. "And you're free to go."
"Really?"
"I can confirm you have a sprain," Shandra said as she brought over a pair of crutches. "Due to your Core levels you'll be back on your feet in no time, but it will still take a few days to heal. Try not to bear any weight on it until then."
"I agree with a course of caution," R.Z. added, "but I also implore you to not let your injury hinder your duties as a Guardian. Even if you cannot aid in combat you can still assist the team."
Ash took the crutches and used them to help her stand. She tucked the handles under her arms and turned to each of her caretakers.
"Thank you," Ash said.
"Get some rest," R.Z. advised, "I will officially brief you and the others tomorrow morning. I ask that until then you consider what was discussed here confidential."
Ash stood up, using her crutches to support herself and exited the Hall of Knowledge to the beat of clicks that replaced her footsteps.
The quiet chassis of the rebuilt Electronic Exploratory Lab did little to afford Wild Card peace. Typically, he would walk its floors with confidence. Instead, he sat in his home as a literal broken mess. This chest plate was cracked and the centerpiece, the signature W, was torn asunder. He sat in front of a pair of robotic arms wielding tools that rewired and soldered the board underneath with mechanical precision.
Despite the cosmetic collapse, the damage to his suit was superficial, if painful. He would have never trusted Drop Kick with a serious repair. Even now he did not trust the robot. He merely knew the limits of the automaton, which no longer had a pair of legs of his own. The Guardians had helped ensure that modification by blowing his body apart in the Hall of Knowledge. Wild Card inwardly laughed at the memory of telling Drop Kick that he "forgot" his legs when he retrieved and reactivated the remains of the robot.
His physical immobility was a only single layer of protection. Drop Kick had been reprogrammed to behave in a completely loyal manner. Wild Card's previous attempt at reprogramming him failed because he tried to rewrite the robot's personality via command. He learned from this mistake and hijacked the motor functions to prevent Drop Kick from acting on his disloyalty; Drop Kick would be literally unable to act unless Wild Card told him to. Deep inside the silicon soul, Drop Kick's consciousness was a prisoner of the code that severed his interface with this body. Given that Drop Kick had destroyed his father and initially placed him in this containment suit, the punishment fit like a glove.
As did the Browns Megacore in his hands, however brief it was.
Wild Card could still feel its energy in his hands. He had been able to collapse a chunk of First Energy Stadium right onto Ash as she performed her signature stomp.
It was the ice that hit his chest which made him drop the ball. He still shivered from the shock and the cold and his need to retreat.
His mission had failed. The downside of rendering Drop Kick legless meant Wild Card would have to do the dirty work himself. Usually he would be temporarily successful, especially if the Anticorians got involved. Over the years they had gotten more desperate, prone to mistakes, and reliant on a dwindling supply of Blitz Borgs.
By contrast, Wild Card was able to have Drop Kick slowly rebuild the army of Blitz Botz. Some, like the Mimic Blitz Bot and the Siphon Blitz Bot were woefully incomplete; he would have to scavenge his flooded lair for parts. Others, such as his spy drones, were ready for immediate deploy.
It was Wild Card who was now damaged. With amazing speed, Drop Kick rebuilt the armor before his eyes; for all of the deficiencies of the robot he could build and repair flawlessly. But Wild Card hated sitting in front of this metallic fool, as it only gave him time to ache.
If only he hadn't been saddled with an idiotic traitor of a sidekick whose only use to him was to build more bots. His servant stared at him with unblinking blue eyes.
"What are you looking at?" Wild Card asked. The question was vague enough to allow Drop Kick to speak.
"There is something in the mail for you, sir," Drop Kick answered with apprehension.
"I don't get mail." In response to his denial, a panel under the console opened up with a letter.
"It was addressed to Warren Zimmer."
Wild Card grabbed the letter, which was in reach, and read the address. It had been sent to a post office box set up under a proxy name, and yet it was addressed to him. That Drop Kick was able to intercept this message was a sign of independence he could not ignore.
Wild Card held the envelope under the working arms of Drop Kick. He ripped the side of it open and slid the letter within it out of the envelope. He unfolded it and lifted it to the side to read it.
"Dear Warren Zimmer," Wild Card read. "It has come to my attention that your history as a coach...blah blah….Please kindly accept this invitation for an interview in Paris, France for an immediate opening…Signed, Gabriel Agreste."
Wild Card gripped the paper as if to crumple it, but he prevented himself from putting more than few extra creases on it. Instead he felt Drop Kick close the centerpiece to his armor, which was now in tact, with little sign it had ever been damaged.
"Repairs complete," Drop Kick announced. "You should be at peak efficiency within twenty-four hours."
"You know," Wild Card said as he stood, "Drop Kick, you might be useful for something after all."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now get back to work on the Blitz Botz."
Wild Card walked over to a console and began to move his fingers to perform a quick search on Gabriel Agreste. The top image result was a portrait of him with his son. The man was a fashion designer, but his cold, bespectacled stare reminded him too much of Richard Zimmer. Wild Card knew the look of a man too obsessed with his work to pay attention to his family.
His son, Adrien, stood beside him in many of the prominent image results. Most of the later image results for Gabriel Agreste showed the son instead. The boy was a model. From the pictures he recognized that look all too well - a boy seeking his father's approval and volunteering to be his pet project. The disappearance of the mother also hit home; Wild Card had never recovered from the loss of his own mother.
He had lived the same life that boy had lead as Warren Zimmer, and was paid for it with a new life in this containment suit. The Anticorian technology helped his mind to stay focused on revenge, not the rehabilitation he was taken from. He looked at the picture of Gabriel Agreste again.
A brilliant doctor and a brilliant designer had the same eyes.
For a second the technology powering his armored form faltered and Wild Card assumed human form. Instantly, his mind began to be flooded with determination. It was too late for him and the cybernetic ghost of a father to ever have a relationship. It wasn't too late for this boy.
His mind flashed back to the prison cell and the letters he rejected from R.Z. 6.0. Feeling the air on his face now as he did then, an instant of regret hit him.
He returned to the present clicked a few links and skimmed the biography of the boy. He refused to spend time perusing, but he was able to glean that Adrien Agreste was the same age as those Guardians. The Anticorian bracelet on his arm began to jingle.
With a flicker he purged the weakness in his mind and returned to his armored form. Those aliens had kidnapped him, but their technology allowed him to shift between forms instead of relying on holographic disguises to approximate humanity. But becoming human again weakened him and distracted him from his revenge. He hated it.
Instead he focused his glowing purple eyes on the feed from the blog. If power such as this existed elsewhere, he wouldn't need the Megacores to exact his revenge against R.Z. 6.0. As the head, torso, and arms of Drop Kick worked efficiently in the background, Wild Card looked at the summons he received.
It was time for a Parisian vacation after all.
Alya held the camera phone at the ruckus in front of her with a distracted heart. Typically the attack of a supervillain excited her. The danger thrilled her and provided her a chance to see Ladybug. There would also be the chance that she would become a hero and part of the story.
Yet today, she had to fake the excitement for the commentary. Part of it was due to the opponent they faced, an underwhelming foe who was not very exciting.
Part of this was due to Ladybug herself.
She noticed Ladybug had been slightly distant as of late. She had departed without saying a word after the past few supervillain attacks. It had been even longer since Ladybug had called upon her to become Rena Rouge. With a villain that could literally tag them without them knowing it, Alya wondered why Ladybug had not called her for help.
The situation would have been perfect for Rena Rouge.
This supervillain was a speedy rabbit calling herself Mad Hare. With her makeup, pink and white color scheme, and her giggling demeanor she resembled a mascot more than a menace.
She didn't look like the latter until a deluge hit her.
A wave of water swallowed her and swept her towards the open square. Her fur and clothes were soaked, and the makeup around her eyes almost appeared to darken as it smeared.
Ladybug and Cat Noir stood across the Trocadéro, both of them laughing. Alya worried all the more. Cat Noir was a showboat, but it wasn't like Ladybug to gloat at all. Mad Hare hopped three times then shot towards the pair like an arrow. The superheroes were smiling but standing still, simply watching the approaching bunny-clown.
With each step she took she slowed and halfway between her former position and the superhero she completely stopped. She lifted her clown shoes and saw that that gunk was all over her footwear. She looked at the powder around her. Where she stepped it congealed into a brown paste that stuck to her feet and fur. She bent over and stuck her finger into the ground, then lifted it and put it in her mouth.
"Beef broth?" she asked after withdrawing her digit.
Mad Hare felt a breeze overhead and immediately reached over the top of her head between her rabbit ears. Her domed hat was gone and was now in the hands of Ladybug. She ripped it in half and a black butterfly fluttered away.
Ladybug swirled her yo-yo again and captured the butterfly, only to release it as a white lepidopteran. At the same time the metamorphosis of the bunny-clown into a pigtailed blonde girl completed, and ladybug threw the red and black sack into the air.
Her Lucky Charm became fireworks of ladybugs, repairing cracked concrete, turned over vehicles, and the fountain. The broken hat changed into a paper crown that Ladybug picked up. The two heroes received a standing ovation from the crowd that gathered.
Alya pressed the button on her phone to end the broadcast, then waved at the heroes.
"She seems like she wants your attention," Cat Noir mentioned. Ladybug felt her mask and eyes sag in response.
"I...have to have a word with Alya," she admitted.
"Another exclusive interview? When am I going to get one?"
"Silly kitty, if you pay attention, there's an adoring fan right there."
She pointed the pigtailed girl who had been Mad Hare, who laughed without a hint of hate.
"Cat Noir!" the little girl yelled, "I love you!"
"At least someone loves me for me," he commented. Ladybug handed him the paper crown and Cat Noir ran over to the giggling girl and picked her up. Ladybug approached Alya more deliberately, who only gathered more attention now that a superhero had approached.
"Alya," Ladybug began, "I wanted to speak with you off the record."
The crowd voiced a few cheers and moans in response.
"Gladly," Alya answered. Ladybug grabbed Alya by the waist and threw her yo-yo at a nearby rooftop, and the two swung away, only to land in a nearby alley. It was deserted, although it would not be for long, and Alya smirked with anticipation.
"Do you have a new mission?" Alya eagerly asked.
"I didn't want to tell you at first," Ladybug replied. "You remember when you got stung by Miracle Queen?"
"Actually, that day is hazy. I remember having Nino over to dinner with my parents, but after that it's blank."
"You...were exposed."
"Exposed?" Alya heard her voice rise with surprised and lowered it. "You mean like Chloé..."
"Hawk Moth found out your identity. Not just you, but all of the other heroes I chose. That's why I haven't been calling on Rena Rouge." Ladybug looked down to the side, and for once all of the confidence in her face.
Alya wrapped her arms around Ladybug in a warm hug, and the face of the superhero was filled with the energy of being caught off-guard.
"It's okay," Alya said.
"It is?" Ladybug asked, her expression of shock steady even as Alya released her.
"The Ladyblog has gotten so popular it's a second job. That one patron might be disappointed, though."
"This isn't permanent." Ladybug lifted her hands in front of her, as if pressing away negativity. "I still might need you from time to time in an emergency. It just might not be as often."
"I understand," Alya replied, putting her hand on Ladybug's shoulder. "You don't have to spare my feelings. You need new heroes. I'm good."
''Thank you, Alya." Ladybug tossed her yo-yo into the sky and hooked a support, using it to swing herself away while the countdown beeps commenced.
"Stay connected," Alya called as she left. The seconds passed as Ladybug became smaller in her sight, and as the hero rose, Alya felt disappointment swell. It crested long before it spilled over her heart and sat like a puddle after the rain. She would have to tell Nino the bad news.