To Lyger 0: Or at least the African segment of the Dark Acolytes!
To Armadas: Yeah, the Acolytes absolutely had it coming. And Dhuan is most definitely a shapeshifting bear, lol – he's an ancient Tuatha Dé, after all. And at some point both "Peacock moms" will get a chance to comment on their respective son's altered relationship status.
To Anon2018: I mean, they did attack her and her boyfriend and render him comatose, so methinks she's got some pent-up anger to work out… through the profligate use of ordnance! It's amazing just how many non-miraculous heroes there are now; this is a circumstance when they really get to shine.
John turned in all directions, clutching his quarterstaff so tightly that his hands trembled. Jake had only just arrived back at the camp and come to find him when the world had exploded around them in a hail of earth and fire! John's ears still rang from the massive explosions that had rocked the center of the encampment. No sooner had he regained his bearings the first time than the armory tent had glowed white for a moment and burst apart, sending a wave of heat and plasma out over the entire camp, leaving behind nothing but an enormous crater. One of the explosive bolas had bounced across the ground and struck the stockade next to John before exploding, leaving a charred cavity in the wood. John rubbed his forehead, trying to stop the ringing in his ears and force his eyes to refocus. Around the camp, his fellow Dark Acolytes ran in all directions, alternately confronting and fleeing from the Initiates and heroes emerging from the woods all around them.
"What do we do!?" demanded Jake. Though he was standing next to John, his voice sounded as though it was being filtered through water.
John blinked dumbly, his ears still ringing. "I–I don't–"
"Look out!"
With a wrathful bellow, Anansi charged between two tents and barreled straight toward them, pulling one fist back for a punch. Before John knew what was happening, Jake pushed him to one side, and Anansi struck Jake solidly in the head, knocking him to the ground. His head thudded on the dirt, and he let out a groan, collapsing flat on his stomach. Landing on his side, John caught a quick glimpse of Jake lying on the ground, his eyes closed and an expression of pain in his face.
"Jake!" John spun around to face Anansi, brandishing his quarterstaff in a high guard position. She feinted a kick at his chest, but John jumped back away from her, jabbing at her head with the end of his staff. Anansi leaned to one side to avoid the jab and moved closer, narrowing the distance between them. Nearby, he could see the Prodigy and Deaconess fighting, almost as though they were sparring.
"What were you thinking!?" demanded the Deaconess, parrying a high blow and following it up by sticking the other side of her staff through the Prodigy's legs, sweeping her right foot off the ground.
"I was trying to stop the miraculous abusers!" the Prodigy retorted, jumping and swinging a downward chop at the Deaconess's head. "What are you doing, traitor?"
"I want to stop them, too!" the Deaconess shot back, spinning around the strike, jumping into the air, and driving a massive punch at the Prodigy's head. The Prodigy leaned to one side as the blow fell and jabbed the Deaconess hard in the chest. The Deaconess groaned, clutching her chest, and stepped back. The Prodigy charged forward, aiming a flurry of blows at the Deaconess' shoulders and head. As the first blow neared, however, the Deaconess spun around and punched the Prodigy in the side, breaking her concentration, before aiming a half-dozen punches at the Prodigy's head and torso.
The Prodigy held her arms up to block, shifting her torso from side to side to avoid the body-blows, and stepped backward away from her. "Then stop fighting against us and help us!"
"This isn't the way to do it!" the Deaconess yelled furiously. "We need to work with them – persuade them! Some of them are good: they can listen to reason!"
"Bullshit!"
"Have you even tried?"
"Have you become a miraculous sympathizer!?"
Refocusing on the hero in front of him, John ducked beneath another blow from Anansi and swung his staff around in a backhand at her head. Anansi ducked, and the quarterstaff knocked into the stockade and bounced off, sending vibrations up and down John's arms. On the ground beside him, Jake remained unmoving. Feinting a punch, Anansi jumped and brought her knee up into John's gut, knocking him back several paces.
"Come on, you cowards!" Anansi roared, charging after him with her fists joined over her head. "Give up the miraculous and surrender!"
With an anxious gulp, John backpedaled away from her, holding his staff in a defensive posture as he lunged around the stockade corner. Coming up into a crouch, he drew back his staff to strike at Anansi's legs when she followed. As he did so, his hand brushed against the pocket of his robe. He furrowed his brow in confusion on feeling a hard circular object. Slowly he started to pull it out, as a shout came from around the corner.
"Hey! They're still alive in here!" yelled Anansi.
As the sound of splintering wood filled the air, John's heart sank. If the heroes rescued the prisoners, all of this would have been for nothing. Pulling out the object, his eyes widened in shock. It was a miraculous, the one he had taken from Ladybug and Cat Noir's tent. He should have delivered it to the Heirodeacon as soon as he arrived, but he had forgotten. John could almost imagine the brooch thrumming with energy that was just waiting to be released. A pair of enormous eyes poked out of his pocket – the Kwami, staring at him with interest. John swallowed. If he were to use this miraculous… he might be able to stop the heroes, prevent them from rescuing the prisoners, from taking back the miraculous. His hand clenched around the miraculous.
He started, eyes widening in shock. What was he thinking? He was a Dark Acolyte! He could not stoop to the level of the miraculous abusers! "No!" His jaw clenched. Whatever happened, he would not abuse a miraculous.
Shoving the miraculous back into his pocket and surging around the corner, he swung his staff hard at Anansi's head. Anansi, however, turned her head slightly as he emerged, and the blow struck her shoulder. Anansi grabbed her shoulder and turned on him, growling in anger. A stray missile struck the ground behind them and burst, sending a spray of earth into the air. Anansi turned to glare at Iron Maiden. John slowly retreated back around the corner–
–only to run headfirst into a too-familiar figure. "You!"
The Heretic raised his staff over his head with his hands spread apart, sliding one foot back. His eyes widened in surprise. "I remember you…"
John held his staff in front of his chest, waiting for the Heretic to strike. "I was a few years behind you." In a sudden burst, the Heretic leapt, bringing his staff down at John's head. John raised his staff at an angle to deflect the blow away, and the staff bounced off the stockade. The Heretic landed to one side of him, sweeping out with one leg. John sprang over his leg and drove his knee at the Heretic's gut. "You're a heretic! You turned on us!"
Dodging the knee, the Heretic scoffed, aiming a lazy kick at John's head the moment he landed. "Is that how they tell it?" he asked rhetorically. John ducked, and the Heretic followed through with a second kick. "I didn't turn on anyone; the Dark Acolytes turned on their own teachings."
"What!?" John blocked the kick with his forearms and transferred the momentum into a jump, putting more distance between them. He leaned one hand against the stockade. "How is that even possible?"
"'All miraculous use is abuse,'" the Heretic recited, batting out with his staff. "That's what they teach us, right?"
John raised his arms, blocking a series of punches. "Of course!"
The Heretic smirked darkly. "Then what does it say about them when they use a miraculous?"
John cocked his head to one side, and the Heretic caught him with a block to the shoulder. "No Dark Acolyte would use a miraculous!" he insisted. Unconsciously, his hand drifted down to the miraculous in his pocket. He had felt the temptation – but he had resisted it. "It is forbidden!"
"Then why did they use a miraculous last year!?"
John started and furrowed his brows. "I–I don't–"
The Heretic dropped low and swept John's feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. "Let me tell you about what the Dark Acolytes teach," he told him, holding his staff to John's throat. "They say that 'all miraculous use is abuse,' even though they are now consorting with miraculous abusers of the worst sort. They say that miraculous inherently imbalance the universe, even though the Kwamis themselves balance each other. They say one thing, but they do another – doesn't that bother you?"
John swallowed hard. The Beaver Miraculous user's face popped unbidden into his mind. He had helped take the boy's miraculous away from him, and now it was being used by a criminal! The Prior had been working with Night Bat – the worst miraculous abuser in the world! "I–I'm a Dark Acolyte of the Mundane!" John repeated hesitantly. "The Archimandrite's word is final!"
The Heretic hummed and arched an eyebrow. "Do you remember what the Archimandrite taught about the Dark Sword of the Mundane? Or about the origin of chi-putty?"
"Of course." John stared at him in confusion. "He said that they were created to oppose miraculous abusers, to counter their abilities."
The Heretic smirked and drew the sword from his belt. "Then why does the Sword bear the symbol of the Ladybug and Cat on its cross guard?" John's jaw dropped as the Heretic held the sword sideways and the yin-yang symbol glinted in the sunlight. "I have seen this Sword in use," the Heretic told him, replacing it on his belt. "I watched Cat Noir channel his Cataclysm and Ladybug her Miraculous Ladybug through it. And I used normal chi-putty to cause an explosion against its intended target. Do you know what that was?"
"Ladybug?"
The Heretic shook his head. "A monster that preys on miraculous. Does that square with what they taught us?"
John batted the Heretic's staff away from himself and rolled backward before kipping to his feet. "We were trained to stop miraculous abusers!" he shouted, swinging his quarterstaff wildly at the Heretic's head. "That's what they are! That's who you've allied with!"
The Heretic parried the strike, knocking John's staff into the stockade wall. He shook his head. "No, it isn't. There are miraculous abusers out there, those who would use the miraculous to their own gain. But there are also those who use them properly, to help other people. And we can work with those without compromising our ideals."
"But, what about the Tarasque?" John demanded. "It's drawn to the miraculous. The Beasts only emerged when there were miraculous around!" Aside from our own temple, though, he refused to admit.
"Is that what you think?" The Heretic gave him an incredulous look. "That's what they've been teaching you? The Bear emerged in Germany without any miraculous in the vicinity."
"But the Hound–"
"–arrived after it had already attacked three of the heroes without miraculous," the Heretic finished. John's jaw dropped, and he stared at the Heretic dumbfounded. The Heretic rested the end of his staff on the ground. "The Dark Acolytes of the Mundane are misguided, their paranoia is unfounded, and their entire purpose is built on a foundation of lies," the Heretic informed him. "You can either continue with them – continue to compromise what you believe – or…"
"Or what?"
"Or you can try to make up for their mistakes by setting things right," the Heretic told him. "Return the stolen miraculous to their proper Guardians. Take those that are being abused away from their abusers – abusers to whom the Dark Acolytes of the Mundane delivered them, I might add. Keep the miraculous in the hands of those who will use them for good, to maintain the balance of the universe."
John's shoulders slumped. He looked down at the staff in his hand. Again Buck's face swam in front of his eyes. He had felt so strange, ever since Philadelphia. Buck had been a kid, younger than John himself. He had only been trying to help people, and now his miraculous was in the hands of a criminal. That had only happened because of him – he had helped create a new miraculous abuser. But then in New York, when he had helped that miraculous user, rather than taking his miraculous, it had felt… like it was the right thing to do. Being in the camp, surrounded by miraculous users, he had only been afraid or anxious when the Prior insisted on attacking them. Finally, John threw down his staff and sighed heavily. "Fine."
The Heretic relaxed. Around them, the chaos of the fight was dying down. Beside them, Anansi, the Owl, and Uncanny Valley were in the process of wrestling the stockade apart. "Where are the miraculous?" the Heretic asked John.
Reaching into his pocket reluctantly, John pulled out the miraculous and placed it in the Heretic's hand. "The others are in the Heirodeacon's tent," he added.
The Heretic's jaw dropped, staring down at the miraculous. "How the hell do you have this?"
John shrugged, kneeling next to Jake and shaking him by the shoulder. "Cat Noir needs a better hiding place."
Groaning, Jake looked up at John, blinking in confusion. "What–what's happening?"
John let out a breath and helped him to his feet, glancing around the devastated camp. Many of his brothers and sisters lay on the ground, unconscious or worse. Many more knelt with their hands bound behind their backs. Near the center of the camp, Majestia pushed the Heirodeacon into the ground under her foot. Closer to them, the Deaconess held the Prodigy prisoner. John's stomach churned. "It's over. It's all over."
