To Guest: Roger lives, and he's going to be in desperate need of a vacation by the time the dust settles! Claudie Kanté is indeed still in space. She was supposed to return within the last month or so (after approximately 1 year), but the Tarasque intervened and ESA elected to put all missions on hold indefinitely. So she got to watch it all unfold from space/via TV. At some point she'll have to learn what happened to Max…

"Stay the hell away from my home and my family!"

Turing froze, one hand raised and hovering no more than a couple centimeters from the back door of the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Pâtisserie. Something rattled and thudded against the door from the opposite side, and Turing stepped back away from it. Moments later, the door swung open, and Tom Dupain stood framed in the doorway, filling the entire space with his enormous shoulders, wielding a bread paddle in both hands like a battleaxe. His eyes widening reflexively to take in the intimidating sight, Turing quickly took another backward step, pressing his back against the wall of the building next to the bakery across the narrow alleyway, and held up both his hands in front of himself in a gesture of peace.

Tom stared at him, his mouth opening and eyes widening in surprise, and the bread paddle fell down to clatter against the doorframe. "Turing? What are you doing here?"

Turing lowered his arms to rest against his legs, his eyes returning to their normal setting. "I am not attempting to rob or loot you if that is what you believed!"

Tom groaned, shaking his head, and waved the bread paddle limply in invitation. He shuffled to one side, clearing part of the doorway, and Turing stepped inside. Once he was in, Tom leaned outside and gave the alleyway a quick scan in both directions before shutting the door and sliding a heavy cabinet back in front of it. The cabinet creaked noisily against the tiles, and Turing's aural receptors instantly adjusted to filter it out. Satisfied, Tom sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand. "Sorry about the rough greeting. We've had a few looters come round in the last week or so," he explained. "Some of them will just accept a baguette and leave, but a couple tried to force their way inside the other day." Tom leaned the bread paddle against the cabinet, and Turing's eyes shifted visual range, revealing a streak of organic residue along one edge of the paddle. "I'll be happy if things get back to normal – I'll definitely sleep better…" he muttered.

Turing's mouth set in a thin line, his eyes narrowing to process this new information. "That is an unacceptable security risk," he decided. "We must rectify it immediately. Would you like for us to assign a drone to patrol near the bakery?"

Tom frowned, his brows furrowing in thought. "It's tempting," he allowed, "but I don't think that would be a good idea. What if someone notices the added security around the bakery and starts to wonder why the last remnant of the Heroes of Paris left in the city would be interested in us?"

Turing cocked his head to one side, considering variables and running calculations. Finally he nodded, making a throat-clearing noise. "Given that you are a food provider, that would designate your bakery as an essential resource. Thus, it makes logical sense for us to provide you with additional protection in order to secure this vital resource for the good of the city. I will task drones with patrolling near the surviving food market as well as the pharmacies, and I calculate 84% odds that that will remove any suspicion of your bakery being more significant than that. Provided that you continue to offer food to those in need, that cover story will hold up indefinitely."

"You're the computer," Tom agreed, shrugging. He frowned. "Er, robot. Android?"

"I accept any and all of those designations," Turing responded, working his facial features to resemble a smile.

Tom nodded and returned the gesture, though with some evidence of strain at the corners of his mouth. "If anyone comes by, we'll give them food, even if they can't afford to pay for it – just like we have been," he promised. He eyed Turing carefully, furrowing his brows. "But I doubt you came just to check in on the 'essential resource.' So what brings you here? Not food…"

Turing shook his head. "I do not require sustenance. Rather, I came to check on the three of you; I apologize for neglecting to do so sooner."

"I figured that you were busy," Tom replied, waving him toward the staircase. "And it's four, actually."

Turing paused at the base of the stairs and furrowed his brows, running through his built-in database to search for variables he had missed. "Marinette has a grandmother," he began slowly. "But our information places her in Milan. Marinette's grandfather's house is closed up, but all available evidence suggests that he would not have come to you – based on the location of his residence I infer that he fled to the west with the group of refugees that went to Nanterre. And her other grandparents are in China. So who is this fourth?"

Tom's mouth set in a thin line. "Neither of my parents are here – I hope Dad is safe, but I haven't exactly spoken to him in a few months. No… it's actually Cosette. She was here when the Tarasque arrived, and I didn't think it wise to let her go wandering through the city to try and find her mother with the Tarasque on the loose. So she's been staying with us." Tom's shoulders slumped. "We haven't heard anything about her mother or her brother, and she's worried sick. She's spent the last week going back and forth between Emilie's bed and ours at night. Do you–?"

Turing shook his head. "I have heard nothing about survivors or refugees affiliated with any of the Agreste rehab centers. Of the buildings, three had been destroyed, though not the one where Cosette's family lived. Markov has been monitoring the situation with the surviving centers, but they had already been picked clean and deserted by the time I got to them." Recognizing Tom's disappointed look, he quickly added, "But I will task my drones with scanning for any signs of Dahlia and Mathieu Myriel."

Tom nodded slowly, his mouth twisting around into a frustrated frown. "Thanks. Hopefully that will alleviate some of her worry. That's all we can ask for, after…" His shoulders slumped; too soft for human ears, Turing heard a quiet sniffle. Tom turned on him with wide, pleading eyes. "Have you heard anything from Marinette?"

"No." Turing shook his head. "But communication has been limited at best since the Tarasque formed. Every cell tower in range has been experiencing catastrophic levels of feedback, rendering cell phones useless. Short-range radios have likewise proven unreliable. Even within the city I struggle to access my drones; 56% of the time I am entirely cut off from communication with Markov."

Tom let out a breath, leading the way up the stairs. "I'm sorry. So what can we do to help?"

"At the moment, all you can do is keep yourselves safe," Turing replied promptly, following him upstairs. "While I have received no further or contradictory orders from Ladybug or Cat Noir, until such should happen, your safety is among my prime directives." The lights in the stairwell flickered on and off, and Turing cocked his head to one side, listening to the hum of the wires in the walls for variations.

Tom groaned irritably, glaring at the ceiling, and muttered a curse. "I know they're trying, but the electricity is still so spotty. I actually lost an entire batch of bread last week."

Turing closed his eyes momentarily and sent a message. "You will have a portable generator by the end of the day," he told him. Tom raised an eyebrow. "We cannot have a vital food provider reliant on an unreliable electrical grid."

"Thanks." Tom pushed the door to the apartment open and led the way in. Sabine stood in the kitchen near the stove with Cosette, while Emilie lay on the couch. Leïla Ouazani sat on a folding chair next to Emilie, holding her wrist while staring intently at her watch. Cosette looked up in surprise as the door opened and beamed brightly at Tom before turning to Turing and letting out a muffled gasp.

"Who are you?" Cosette asked, her eyes widening like saucers and mouth hanging wide open.

"I am Turing," he replied, inclining his head in her direction. "Of the Heroes of Paris – or what is left of them."

"But–what is a Hero of Paris doing here?" Cosette put down her dishtowel and ran over to him, poking his metal hand and arm. "Are you made of metal?"

"Leave him alone, sweetheart," Emilie called, fixing Turing with a piercing gaze and shifting to sit up on the couch. Leïla yelped and pulled away. Emilie cleared her throat, pulling Cosette's attention toward her. "I'm sure Turing is just checking on everyone in Paris right now – he must be very busy."

Turing nodded. "Absolutely," he affirmed. "Although the rest of the Heroes of Paris are gone, I am still here to protect this city."

"Cool!" Cosette's gaze shifted back and forth between Turing and Emilie in excitement.

"You need to stay still, Mme Agreste," Leïla chided Emilie, snatching her wrist back. "I can't take your pulse if you're moving around."

"I'm fine," Emilie insisted, rolling her eyes. "I feel worlds better than I did a month ago – or even two weeks."

"Still, Father wants to make extra sure with you." Leïla shifted her fingers on Emilie's wrist and glanced down at her watch, counting silently.

Cosette backed away from Turing, her eyes wide. "Have–have you seen my mommy?"

Turing shook his head. "M. Dupain asked the same question when I arrived, and I am sorry to say that I have not. But I promise I will search for her. If she is in the city, I will find her."

"But what if she's not in the city?"

"Well," Emilie interjected, giving Cosette a sympathetic smile, "if she isn't in the city, then that means she's okay and she'll come back to get you just as soon as all this nastiness is over!"

Cosette frowned, looking down at the floor.

"But in the meantime, you can help me make breads every day!" Tom added

Sabine examined Turing's face carefully and pursed her lips. "Girls," she announced in a tone that allowed no argument, "could you give us a few minutes with Turing? We will have some things to discuss with him."

Leïla stood up and patted Emilie's arm. "Your pulse is back to normal, as are your oxygen levels. I will be back in a couple days to check again, but I think you are better."

"I told you," Emilie replied, smiling. She groaned, rolling her shoulders. "Now if I can just get my strength back…"

"That will take a while," Leïla told her apologetically. "But the best prescription for now will be rest."

"Yes, Doctor," Emilie agreed, an amused tone to her voice.

Leïla's cheeks turned a light pink. Dropping her pulse oximeter in her bag, she snapped it shut and held a hand out to Cosette. "We should leave them be."

Emilie sighed heavily. "I'm sorry; I'm afraid I've been a poor patient. But I do appreciate your visits, Leïla. You have been such a huge help with this illness."

Leïla nodded, though she still appeared troubled. "Thank you, Mme Agreste," she responded. "I just wish I could do more."

"You and your father have been responsible for saving many people's lives during this crisis," Turing pointed out. "You have been a significant help."

"I suppose."

"Do you want a bonbon?" asked Cosette, taking Leïla's hand and bouncing eagerly. "M. Tom says we can't make a lot of sweets because we need to focus on basic breads for everyone, but I convinced him to let me make a batch this morning!"

"That sounds like fun!" Leïla agreed, returning Cosette's smile and following her toward the stairs.

Once the two girls had climbed up the stairs to Marinette's room, Tom closed the trapdoor after them, chuckling affectionately. "I don't remember the last time Marinette was half that excited about baking! Of course, it was probably pre-Ladybug…"

Emilie pursed her lips.

"That had nothing to do with it. I'm pretty sure the last time she was so excited was when she was Cosette's age, dear!" Sabine told him, laughing.

Emilie let out a breath. "So what's the situation?" she asked Turing, pushing herself to sit up on the couch, leaning forward slightly onto her knees.

Turing shrugged. "I infer that you know as much as I do," he pointed out. "I have observed an increase in the number of senti-guardians around the city lately."

"I'm so glad that Miss Emilie has been feeling better!" a high-pitched voice squealed from somewhere in the blanket covering Emilie. "I was so worried, but–"

"Enough, Duusu," Emilie chided him gently, patting a spot on the couch. "Unfortunately, the senti-guardians haven't been able to tell me too much; I've been keeping them close by as much as I can, only rarely sending them further into the city. So what is the latest?" she asked Turing.

"At the moment, the SLD and regular Paris Police are continuing to maintain order as best they can, though they are undermanned for the task at hand and in some ways out of their depth with the sheer scope of the crisis," Turing explained. "We are searching the city thoroughly for any fallen miraculous holders in order to recover their miraculous and their bodies, but I have yet to locate the Eagle Miraculous or Águila Altíssimo's body. We will continue the search until we receive other instructions. Unfortunately, without hearing from the others, there is little else we can do."