Hello everyone and welcome to my very first fanfiction short story. This short story serves as a crossover between the candid and playful miraculous and the grim darkness of warhammer 40000, a favourite setting of mine. I figured that putting these two diametrically opposed universes together would be entertaining to watch. Before you start reading, i want to warn you that VIOLENCE, GORE and BODY HORROR are present. if you are young and impressionable i suggest you don't read it. For those who aren't, i'd like to remind you that i'm not being edgy just for the sake of it, this is what 40k is supposed to be all about. Lastly, english is not my native language, so forgive me if you find grammatical errors along the way. With that said, i hope you enjoy this humble attempt of mine to play writer. Have a good reading.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MIRACULOUS LADYBUG, NOR WARHAMMER 40000. THIS STORY IS PURELY MADE FOR RECREATIVE PURPOSES AND HAVE NO MONETARY INTENT WHATSOEVER.
There are powers in this universe of truly grandiose magnitude. Powers that move the very stars and planets, that can shape time and probability alike. Powers at which we are utterly helpless, so vast and alien that we can barely comprehend them on the surface, using science as a crutch to prevent us from falling again into the clutches of superstition. Yet what we know of them is enough to tickle our deepest fantasies. Mankind has always been fascinated with power, curiosity is a pivotal part of our being. The extents of their achievements have molded their character into that of conquerors, explorers and sages. Yet they never learnt restraint, certain to be able to wield any power they could get their grubby hands on. But some powers are best left unknown. Gabriel Agreste, fashion mogul and Holder of one of the fabled Miraculouses, would soon find out why.
The resurrection of his wife was nothing but a chimaera. He always refused to understand though, he was too accustomed to simmer in his delusions, too busy in his self appointed task, and his mind obfuscated by impatience, desperation, and most of all, arrogance. Arrogance brought by the slightest touch of power humans would find "unnatural". He thought himself mighty, wielding his broken magic trinkets like a reborn deity of the New World of Man.
Fool. In his hubris of playing God, he forgot his place in this universe. He considered himself as the puppeteer, when he was just a puppet, like everyone else. A pawn of flesh, blood and sinew, whose only purpose of existence was to dance at the cruel rythim set by uncaring horrors, fuel them with his emotions and feelings, and entertain them while they roared and cackled obscenely in their dark chasm.
These horrors have watched Gabriel for many years, amused by his insistence to bring his plan into fruition. Thanks to him, Paris, nay the whole France, lived in paranoia, fear, and misery. Afraid of becoming victims of their own emotions. And those who did, released such delicious, passionate feelings into the Warp that would satiate even the horniest daemonette. This emotional dissonance was palpable, it drenched the parisians like an invisible film of sticky goo, and emanated an irresistible stench from which the misbegotten denizens of the Realms were attracted like moths to a neon light. And from the murky waters of the Immaterium, grave hums of approval surfaced. They knew all it took was a spark, and Chaos would take over.
That day, Gabriel would become the spark. That day, he would do his unknown masters' bidding. Paris would bask in the glory of the Ruinous Powers, and nothing would stand before its touch.
"Tikki! What's happening all of a sudden? You better have a damn good explanation for dragging me out of lunch break, I was about to speak with Adr- "
Tikki stood in front of her, his posture stiff, grim; her eyes were dark and carried a serious expression. Marinette never saw her like that.
"Marinette, I need you to do something for me, it is of the utmost importance. The chain of events is already cascading, we can't stop it now, but we can still prevent the worst from happening."
Marinette never heard her kwami talk like that. She didn't sound at all like the lively little being she always knew. Rather, some kind of ominous prophet. She stared at her and asked.
"W-what are you talking about?"
The little imp inhaled deeply.
"It doesn't matter, Holder. Our time is short. I need you to remove those earrings at once. Keep them safe. Don't let them be exposed to the Taint"
"Tikki you're starting to scaring me.."
Tikki's deep blue eyes suddenly changed to icy white, glowing bright in her tiny skull. Her chirping voice changed to a grave, baritone tone, her words resonating across the courtyard like spoken through a supernatural megaphone.
"DO. AS. I. SAY. MORTAL."
Flabbergasted, Marinette nevertheless decided to obey. She hoped Tikki knew what she was doing. She trusted her. Everything would turn out for the better, it always had. Before watching her disappear, she caught a glimpse of the creature she just spoke to, recognizing the Tikki she used to know and was so fond of, turning her little head to her, mouthing "I love you".
"Elaine, I am Hawkmoth. I want to strike a bargain with you, if the prospect of power fancies you"
Elaine was your typical teenage girl: young, beautiful, lively. A tragedy that her life, her dreams and ambitions, were precariously held by the care of the doctors, who diagnosed an aggressive glioblastoma slowly digging into her frontal lobe almost five months ago. She always suffered from terrible headaches that brought her vomit, cramps, and loss of equilibrium. More recently, she started having auditory hallucinations. Voices in the back of her head that kept her from sleeping. Elaine never knew, his doctors never suspected. How could they? They couldn't even comprehend what was happening to her young mind. And even if they realized she was a psyker, what could they do?
Psykers are a rare breed, humans whose link to the Warp was stronger than most. There is no account on any scientific paper about their existence, yet they live among us, often unaware of their nature and potential, of the powers they can wield. The power to alter reality itself on a whim.
Alas, such a power came at a cost. Their feeble minds, unprotected and untrained, were easy prey for the eldritch beings that lurked deep within the Realm of Souls, only visible by mere mortals in their worst drug-fueled nightmares. Creatures like the parasitic Psycheneuins or the Enslavers, for which the human brain was the perfect repository for their wriggling offspring of mind-eating larvae.
Or worse. Entities whose existence is merely a projection of the collective gestalt of human emotions, foul clusters of chaotic mind-chaff given grotesque shapes and called Daemons. Terrible to behold, worse to face in combat. For daemons are immortal, since their essence is inherently of human origin. As long as humanity lives, they shall endure. Because humanity can't be such without its emotions. Love, hate, happiness, angst, generosity, envy. It is what gives them strength, and what makes them weak.
Hawkmoth did a terrible mistake, crawling into her fragile subsconscious, sure that such a soul in turmoil would give herself up to him instantly, desperate to be freed from the cancer, and become the next disposable villain of the week. Because in doing so he meddled with things humans weren't supposed to know and jeopardized the lives of millions. He triggered the explosion.
"IT'S MOVING INSIDE MY HEAD!"
"-hold on, keep her strapped…don't let her flay her arms like that! Nurse! Where's the bloody morphine?!"
"I-I am on it doctor! Lord, her eyes…!"
"Elaine! Ellie! Listen to me! Listen to my voice ok? It's gonna be all right! Just stay still for the love of…"
"…libera...tutemet...EX INFERIS!"
Elaine had just mere seconds to remember for the last time the happy moments of her short life; her parents, her classmates, the carefree moments at the park, her first kiss. Before everything got swallowed by the fangs of the Arch Enemy. Unfortunately she did not, she couldn't. She was too busy screaming while her head popped open like a ripe watermelon, releasing a jet of caustic fumes that reduced everyone in the room to red sludge. Neither the nurse could, the singularity that was rapidly expanding from her patient's vaporized cranium phagocytated her as well. The structure crumbled like being exposed to millennia of misuse in a fraction of a second, the dwellers inside disintegrated and their shadows plastered on the walls. The rest of Paris won't be so lucky, they will die slowly, and painfully. The latest victim of Hawkmoth the Coward was thus erased from existence, never more to come back.
Faster than what the human eye could register, the entire Salpêtrière hospital was gone, leaving only smoldering ruins, raining blood and a blindingly bright tear in the air, a bleeding wound in reality itself, that spewed impossibile colours and a mind melting cacophony of unearthly howls. A shriek of horror and triumph resonated through Paris, vibrating within the very being of every soul-bearing creature.
As the sky went red, goat footed fiends made their way through the gate. Their fangs dripping foetid ichor, their hands wielding crude weapons, and on their horny heads laid two tiny, burning eyes of fire. The bloodletters voiced their entrance with a low snarl, and all those still alive to witness fell on their knees, praying for salvation. It was at this moment that everyone realized the world was doomed. The Daemon looked down at the flock of supplicants, and as it raised its sword he growled in his profane, guttural tongue:
"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"
The akuma didn't respond. Strange. It was the first time such a thing ever happened.
Creating a link was only the first part of Hawkmoth's routine. Despite the mental control, they still retained sufficient self consciousness to require a certain degree of coercion, and therein lied the difficult part; but usually, the villain's honeyed words and silver tongue were more than enough to convince even the most stubborn of minions. They might debate, protest even, but cut off communications entirely? Very unusual.
But Gabriel didn't want to hear any of it. An insubordinate akuma? Preposterous. He focused again on the mind of Elaine, but found nothing.
"Elaine? What's happening? I can't see…"
Nothing of human. His untrained mind was suddenly bombarded by what could only be described as a deluge of nightmares condensed into a single, surreal thought. He heard a shriek, like that of a feral animal, and it shook him to the very marrow. Terrified, he tried to break contact but now the link was too strong. His brain, overcome by such an attack, turned into radioactive jello, filled with unspeakable truths, gruesome fates and apocalyptic visions of devastation. He dared to stare at the abyss, and now the abyss was staring at him. Then he saw them. A grandiose spectacle of cosmic decadency. Four great tumors, swimming beneath the sea of agony, surfaced briefly and turned their billions of eyes at him. He heard/felt/smelled/saw one sentence.
"I see you."
What has he done? His petty pursue of power brought forth the end of the world! It was his fault. He knew he won't find respite nor redemption. He heard laughter from the other side. Desperation took him.
"KILL ME NATHALIE! KILL ME NOW!"
Nathalie was indisposed. She was being torn part by flying spawns at the front door, as the increasingly maddening supervillain wannabe screamed in the observatory. Ironic, she always had to pay the brunt of Gabriel's actions, one way or another, and this was no exception.
"SPARE ME! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! I'LL DO ANYTHING!"
The laughter grew in size. It grew and grew and burrowed inside its very being like a fat worm. So he wanted a deal? Fine, he shall have one. The daemons broke through the oval window and tackled him. Screaming in agony and pleasure, Gabriel stood still while their long claws carved a symbol across his forehead: a circle, with eight arrows pointing outwards. As the fiends lifted his rapidly mutating body into the air and dragged him from out of his lair, the former designer had just enough energy left to shout from his deforming mouth/s:
"Bye Bye Little Butterfly!"
Marinette watched helplessly the carnage ensuing all around her. Her eyes, wide open, were red and swollen, yet she dared not to blink; her mouth was frothing like one of a rabid beast caught in a trap; her skin scarred with bruises, burns, cuts and smudges of coagulated blood all over her clothes. Her dumbfounded brain was desperately trying to elaborate what was happening. She tried, but for the most part she couldn't. One moment she was amicably chatting with Alya, the other she was running for her life, too scared to look back at her best friend as those things dragged her away. She remembers her cries, her screams, and most of all, she remembers the sickening noise that her spine made. Not that she stayed to watch. Nothing mattered anymore, love or friendship were now meaningless for her. All that remained in her was fear. She won't go home, she won't look after her parents, or Adrien, or anybody. Her animal instinct kicked in, now all that mattered was crude, ruthless survival. Meanwhile, the pandemonium unleashed: acts of inhuman violence and unprecedented barbarity blossomed all around, carried on by daemonic pawns and crazed men, women and children alike. Mobs of demented cultists indulging in ritualistic orgies, blood sacrifices and cannibalism. Gargantuan beasts lumbered not far, venting their rage on whatever thing dared to stand in their way, friend or foe alike. Buildings were ablaze, steaming entrails clogged the Seine, the screams were so loud she started to bleed from her ears. The air was thick with smoke. Eyes as big as the sun watched from the kaleidoscopic heavens above.
-Don't care, I live, you die. Away, go away. Amen.
She remembered when first saw their faces. God Almighty, their faces! They kept…changing, constantly, save for those smiles. Those horrible, bloodied grins filled with sharp teeth, gleaming like daggers at her. And that smell..the smell of rotten flesh, fresh blood, pus, semen and spinal fluid, polluting everything like a vapour of death. A stench so foul, so utterly blasphemous to life itself that her human nose tried its best not to aknowledge it. She gagged, but she did not pause.
Marinette thought she was sweating blood, her tendons ached like they were on fire, but she kept running. To where, she didn't know. Maybe it was just not worth it, maybe she oughta indulge herself in one last act of savage carnality like everyone else before the End, instead of listening to its primal directives. Voices in her head were banging from the inside of her skull, fighting for supremacy.
-Go away.
-No, stay. You have a duty.
-COME PLAY WITH US!
She was at the Place de Notre Dame now. The square was littered with flayed bodies. Their expressions of pain and terror still on their skinless faces of broken muscle and festered eye. They all seemed to point the once mighty cathedral, symbol of the city of Love. The church had collapsed on itself, and she could hear the moans of those still alive, poor souls who desperately sought refuge in the lavish house of God, buried beneath the rubble, begging for the sweet release of death. Only one bell tower still stood, its walls defiled by gruesome tapestries of branded skin, depicting marks of Chaos all over, held stretched with great hooks. Giant carrion birds glided around the heretical monument. Her head was close to meltdown, but she saw worse on the way there. The constant sights of unspeakable horrors were starting to numb her. But they didn't prepare for what she was about to see.
She stopped, and screamed. So loud her vocal cords almost snapped. Adrien was in front of her, what was left of him at least, his scarred mouth stretched in a grotesque parody of his usual, playful grin. His eyes were carved out and held in the rigid palm of his left hand, protruding to her like he was giving her a gift. His whole lower body was dissolved, his ribcage visible and dripping acidic goo on the floor. His limp right arm was chained to the top of a street lamp, keeping the body lifted from the ground by a couple meters. The mangled corpse dangled to the hot wind. A rancid altar to the Gods, at which she knelt.
She stood there, motionless. Her mouth agape to almost inhuman levels, drooling like a retard. Her fizzling eyeballs fixed to the once handsome boy, her friend, her love, so savagely defiled that it hardly looked human anymore. For a brief moment of mercy, her brain resurfaced images of the clusmy, happy girl she was, the humble, clueless angel he was, and their few moments together, so innocent and beautiful, which she relished with all her heart. Then the corpse talked, his empty sockets returning her desolate gaze.
"Take my eyes. See the beauty all around."
Marinette gave up to madness. The folly of Chaos had won. She closed the jaw and croaked.
"Can I see the music? I can't hear anymore."
"Feast on my eyes, Love."
She lunged forward, ready to bite his rotten hand. The corpse interrupted her.
"I need the shinies to replace my own."
Marinette didn't object.
"Of course darling." As she offered the gift of the god of Creation, slowly raising her hand.
She didn't scream, nor flinch. Her arm was yanked out of her shoulder so fast and brutally she didn't even notice. But when a stinging pain finally came to her liquefied brain, she decided to aknowledge it, out of curiosity. She lazily turned her head with a crooked smile, and saw an Angel.
"Take care, kid." Said the black kwami to himself, dissolving with his ring. As his deformed captors bickered and blamed each other for the sudden loss of their boon, bright green ashes flew off their blistered palms and into the vomiting wound in reality behind them. It started to burn.
The grim temple of bodies that was being built at the site of the former hospital pulsated with a golden light. The cultists, intrigued by the phenomenon, slowly and steadily approached, like swollen mosquitoes mindlessly flying to their own retribution in the form of a bug zapper. As they basked into the golden light filtering through the columns of flesh and bone, the temperature started to rise. A woman joked about it, asking who touched the thermostat, but she got no response from the deranged crowd of madmen. What she received though, was wrath. Pure, unadulterated wrath. The morbid building pulsated once again, and then, with a deafening roar, it burst into white hot flames. A cataclysmic explosion akin to a small nuke evaporated tens of thousands at once, sending their screaming, damned souls back to their masters' laps, waiting for judgement and begging for mercy after their pitiful display of incompetence. The streets were washed off by a torrent of fire that burnt Hell itself. Soon the foul vapour subsided, and from the fuming ashes of their foes, there they rose, the Bulwark of Mankind, the Angels of Death. Clad in black, flaming armor and bones from their sacred reliquiaries, the spectral legion of giants advanced fast and steadily. At their head, a winged, golden figure, wearing the porcelain mask of a crying martyr, was hastily giving orders. As he watched his sons and nephews march at supersonic speed through the ruins of Paris, he stopped and solemny declared:
"I hope you're watching this, Father."
The Legion of the Damned were about to begin their grim task: burn the heretic, kill the mutant, purge the unclean. Being extensions of His Will, they knew no fear, for no harm shall ever fall unto them, and no foe shall resist their righteous fury. As they started to open fire with their ethereal bolters on the nearest Greater Daemon, a low, monotone chant echoed from their usually silent, ghostly throats.
"Legionarii, ictus toream, Legionarii, ictus toream…"
The winged Giant arrived just in time. A little girl in the middle of the square was about to relinquish herself to the foul daemon inhabiting the skin of her former lover. A tragedy for sure, but such instances were beneath the Reborn Lord of Baal to deal with, he had more pressing matters at hand; Neverborn to destroy, Taint to cleanse. Suddenly his enhanced sight catched glimpse of something, and it attracted his attention. Tiny, black spots in her hand. Jewelry. Drenched with power. A power he knew well, for he was made out of it. But how? And why? A single, puny mortal handling the very essence of Imperator Rex at his hand!? Alas, there was no time to spare in answering meaningless gossip, his Father surely had a good reason to let a child tinker with a fraction of His light. Maybe she wasn't disposable like the others.
With unnatural speed and grace, Sanguinius topped the girl, his macabre visage stern and inflexible, his bulk towering over the tiny thing. Such a frail, little body. Not even fit for a breeder, he thought to himself. As the boundaries of morality between a sane human being and a primarch during a daemonic incursion were slightly different, he had no qualms in ripping off the arm of the poor child, to prevent her doom. She made no visible complain besides, quite the contrary she smiled at him!
-At least she's polite.
He thought, allowing a hint of dark humour slide for a microsecond. Commanding an army of mindless ghosts in a neverending crusade through time and space was a tedious task, and gave little chance for levity. He obviously knew why she was smiling; she has seen too much. The humans of the 2nd Millennium were so weak and pampered and fragile. Perhaps the Emperor in this era thought that His might would be sufficient to protect mankind and thus kept spoiling His children like the loving father He is. Sanguinius laughed internally. If there was ever something that the Emperor was not, is loving.
Meanwhile, the foul creature wearing Adrien was fuming with petty rage, but dared not to challenge the towering golden warrior. Such a juicy prize, denied. But, better return back home empty handed that not returning at all, it thought. As it tried to slither away like an oily shadow from the mangled corpse of Paris' favourite minor, it felt the pressure of a mighty boot pinning him down. A boot that kept diving into its wretched being until the Father of the Blood Angels pierced the pavement by a good meter.
"Daemon irrepit callidus" he snarled, as he unloaded his blessed bolter into what was left of the squealing shadow.
As he freed his ceramite foot from the rubble, he distractedly gazed on the deserted square and the dilapidated church, and went back observing the girl on her knees and her arm in his hand. he wanted to get through with this business as soon as possible, the Warp energies permeating the ruined city won't stand for much longer and besides, he had a job to perform, he was not resurrected for lolligagging. Asking her was out of the question, maybe probing her would prove more effective. So he approached Marinette, the devastated mess that used to be a smiling, happy-go-lively teen just three hours ago, and commanded:
"Rise."
She rose. Promptly, Sanguinius touched her forehead with his massive finger, diving into her memories. "Fascinating", he thought at loud. Maybe this measly youngling would prove more useful than anticipated. Presently, he looked again at the earrings, carefully took them while casually tossing her arm away, and began chanting in binary. The incensor at his belt resonated and released its hallowed fumes, a mixture of perfume and nanites, that immediatly flew in the direction of the earrings, trying to flush out the little entity within the jewels. And it succeded.
"So, is this my future vessel?" Tikki said, inquisitively.
"Still better than a deformed red canary", replied dryly Sanguinius.
"Watch your tongue, son. I am still the one in charge here."
"Hardly. You're just a shard of Him. Regardless, you may still be of some use."
"I don't take threats lightly, Golden One. Now state your case, or begone."
Sanguinius gave a small nod in Marinette's direction. The girl waved cheerfully with her still sane arm.
"You did this to her did you?" Tikki growled, pointing at her empty socket.
"It was necessary. Though, I'm more interested about the restoring qualities of the jewel you inhabit, Shard. I wish to use this power" Sanguinius explained.
Tikki flew close to his mask.
"If you ever, EVER touch her again, I'm gonna let the Big Man know, mark my words."
"Yes, yes, go ahead, file your grievances. In the meantime, would you kindly help me stop this bloody Chaos invasion from swallowing Terra?"
Tikki gave another look at her protegé. She wanted to cry. That motherless bastard Hawkmoth will rot in hell for what he's done, she'll make sure of it.
-I'm so sorry Marinette. Please, forgive me, forget me. I'm so terribly sorry.
She deeply breathed, closed her eyes, and then spouted:
"Put the earrings on her. And make her say, in this order, 'Tikki, spots on' and 'Miraculous Ladybug'. She needs to launch her yoyo up in the air."
"I'm not sure I know what a yoyo is, but I'll make a try."
Marinette woke up drenched in sweat. She dared not to move, dared not to even breathe, for a whole minute, staring at the ceiling. Ceiling? Suddenly her back muscles jolted and she stood on the bed, her upper body erect but her legs lying stiffly in a perfect right angle, immobile like a doll. She looked all around with eyes agape. She was in her room. She recognized the furniture, her dresses, the mannequin, the designs, the photos on the wall…Adrien. Presently, she felt the urge to investigate. Uncaring of the fact that she was in pajamas, she bolted out of the mezzanine and reached for the the attic. The sun was shining in the blue sky. The bells of Notre Dame resonated through the square, signaling the noon. The trees were green and flourishing, their flowers were timidly opening their petals to the light of day, birds chirped all around. No. NO. It can't be. Why? It was NOT a dream, she knew, she was adamantly certain of it! She remembered everything, the horror, the orgies of violence, the army of the undead, the angel, Tikki…Tikki!
She hurriedly went back to her room and searched everywhere. She patted her ears repeatedly, realizing she still had two hands but also that her earrings were gone. It was definitely not a dream. But then what was it? An illusion, forged by the eldritch beings responsible for the carnage, in an attempt to bring her madness to new levels of surreal absurdity? A delusion created by her own mind, that refused the perception of reality her senses gave to it? Another dimension, a mind prison perhaps? Marinette's head ached, like if someone was behind her, drilling her nape with a jackhammer. She couldn't find the only creature in the whole goddamn universe that could give her an explanation.
She slowly opened the cellar door and went to the kitchen. She expected to see some creature with too much tentacles and fangs, happily munching her parents' skulls while their headless bodies wrote pentacles on the ground with their own blood. It was not the case, and this frustrated Marinette more than it relieved.
Sabine was making lunch behind the kitchen counter. Absent mindedly sprinkling soy sauce in the wok when, with the corner of the eye, perceived a movement and realized her little girl finally came back from the realm of Morpheus.
"There you are, sleepyhead. You missed breakfast. Did you have a good dream at least?"
Marinette stiffed immediatly. She didn't move, she didn't peep, she just stared at her mother. It was too much.
"Whatever. How'd you like the lo mein? You want some eggs in…Marinette! Are you all right?"
Her daughter stood on the stairs, motionless, white as a ghost, her eyes beady and her face expressing only despair. She started to cry inconsolably. Sabine quickly left the counter and strode as fast as she could to catch her daughter.
"Mari! Talk to me please! What's wrong honey? I-If you don't want to eat I can always heat it up for you when you're ready! Is is something about school? Did someone say anything to you? Please, tell me what's happening!"
Marinette just wanted to die. She couldn't bear it anymore. But her body won't give up so easily. Instead she swooned on her mother's arms.
"Oh God! Tom! TOM!"
The phone rings echoed in the marble hall.
"Agreste Estate, how may I help you?"
"Yeah ehm..hello, this is Mlle. Burgeois, I was wondering if I could speak with Adrik…Adrien, it's been a while since he showed up at school and he doesn't answer to my calls."
"I'm terribly sorry, but right now Adrien is not in the best…mood to talk to anyone."
"Is it something about me? Did I do something wrong?"
"No…Chloé, it's not your fault."
"Then what is it?!" asked Chloé, worried and impatient.
"I…I don't know". Nathalie's hands trembled and the corners of her eyes were starting to get wet, but she restrained herself. Professional Sancoeur, always act professional. "But he's receiving the best care we can give to him. He's currently under observation." But then she slipped "They're talking about psychotropics…". She heard sobs from the other end before the little brat hung up. Nathalie sighed, allowing herself to slouch on her recliner. She bit her lip nervously. As her eyes started to shed droplets down her cheeks, she gave herself a smack on the forehead and opened a drawer from her desk, pulling out a glass and a bottle of liquor. Gabriel insane and locked in an asylum, Adrien apathetic and on the brink of suicide. One week has passed, and still no progress in sight. Her putative family was slowly sliding into the maws of Darkness and she couldn't do anything about it. She loved them both so much, and the fact that nobody understood the reason behind their madness made it all the more frustrating. She tried to put aside her memories suddenly resurfacing about the young Adrien when, barely four years old, asked her to tell him a goodnight story, and called her "Auntie".
"Calm Nathalie..calm..think of the money…yeah, the money.." she sobbed as she gulped her first shot. She was about to pour a second round when the doorbell rang.
Adrien watched silently the city from the windows of his room. The last time he saw it, the skyline was on fire. How idiotic had he been. Going against his kwami's wish, transforming into Chat Noir, aka Punching Sack Extraordinaire, and believing he and Ladybug could really make a difference. It didn't last long, obviously. His Lady never showed up. He still remembers being dragged to the altar to be sacrificed, screaming and kicking and crying, calling for his dead mom to save him. What a cringy display. Whatever cruel god made everything turn normal again probably did it on purpose, to mock him for his weakness. What stang more though, was that he never had the chance to ask forgiveness to Plagg. He remembers his last expression of utter disappointment on his feline little features, when he flew away with the daemons who held him prisoner, scurrying triumphantly with his stolen ring while what was left of his Holder was being chained to a lamppost, as a warning to all those who thought of challenging the Ruinous Powers.
Yet he did not shed a tear, not even now when his eyes were where they're supposed to be. He had been found wanting. Not to his father, not to his secretary, but to all humankind. He loathed himself for calling himself a hero. At least he was not a coward, but what's the merit in it, if you die the fool's death? Pills and letters scattered on his bed and desk were the prize for his "bravery". As he turned to the windows again, realization struck. For the first time in a week, he felt suddenly…placid, and tranquil. As he prepared the knife, he allowed himself to think to Ladybug one last time. But before the sharp tool was able to dive into his stomach, the door opened. A tall, young man wearing a red coat slowly made his way into the room. Adrien stared at him and then at the knife. But as he tried again to pierce his flesh, the knife was no more. All that remained was rust in his hands. As Adrien redirected his gaze to the strange individual, the man set aside a lock of his own long, silvery gold hair, and spoke to the child with a warm and melodic voice.
"Evening, Holder."
"Sabine! The door!"
"On my way Tom!"
The little woman reached the door knob as fast as she could. She was tired and dirty, this week really took the toll on her and her husband. She never stopped being at her daughter's side, often holding her hand for hours straight. Marinette kept spewing delirious monologues about the end of the world and how everything is a lie. Alya tried to comfort her but when he exited her room she was so scared and upset that she needed to be calmed herself. Tom had to close the bakery to manage the house while her wife was by his daughter's side. Everyone was distraught, on edge. Nobody really ever suspected such a behaviour from the sweet Marinette. Whatever happened to her, it was something huge. Tom suspected about hallucinogenic drugs. Some punk might've slipped something in her drink or whatever. If he ever found the culprit the cops would need a crowbar to get his hands off him. Her wife was getting increasingly depressed and silently sobbed her days, caressing her little girl and trying to comfort her as best as she could. Recently though, she forced herself to leave Marinette be for a while, hoping that maybe a little privacy could help. For these reasons and more, the sight of the red coated Psychiatrist at their doorstep was like seeing an angel.
"Please! Please come in! Dear Lord you're finally here! We spoke to each other at the phone yes?"
"Correct Ma'am. Now, from what I understand we have a pretty serious case on the premises, and time is of the essence. So if you could please direct me to your daughter.."
"Of course!" she sniffed "of course, please, this way Doctor..?"
"St. Guinness, MD. enchanté."
The cellar door opened, letting a dim light from the living room filter through the bedroom. The windows were shut, the walls were littered with incoherent gibberish wrote all over. Her mother gasped. She should've been there to prevent that. She started crying, but stopped immediatly once the Psychiatrist's hand touched her shoulder, as he softly asked to be left alone with Marinette. She obeyed without question, apparently relieved. He inhaled. The air was dense. The room stenched. Urine? Most likely. The poor creature lurking in the shadows was literally scared shitless. With a flick of his hand the windows sprung open, illuminating the makeshift lair with the bright light of the moon. About four meter from him, laid the Ladybug. On the ground, curled in a fetal position inside a plastic bag. Thrones of Terra, this was even more pathetic than with the other kid! Sighing exasperated, the Doctor unceremoniously grabbed her by the shoulder and lifted her up the bag, giving her a gentle slap on the cheek to wake her up.
"Stay calm. I don't want to harm you."
Marinette felt drowsy after so much time with so few oxygen. As her sight started to adjust and the images become more distinct, she tried to spout another of her usual ramblings, when he recognized that voice. Her face was now stretched to an expression of absolute fear. She started screaming and squirming from his visitor's cluthes but no answer came from down the cellar door.
"I said calm down."
"You came to bring me back don't you?! Yeah you want to feed me to those beasts! YOU WANT ME TO SUFFER FOR YOUR OWN AMUSEMENT!?"
Sanguinius let her go. She fell on the couch with a soft thump.
"You already do, Holder. And not because of me. I'm here to help, and to explain you what happened."
"Oh NO! You won't take me there again! Give me death, any death! But don't bring me back!"
"Marinette, listen to him, please" a voice implored. She swiftly turned to face the source, and found two emerald green eyes gleaming by the moon's light. The arms she wanted so much around her waist for so long made their way to her shoulders and gently, but firmly held her in place. She jumped, startled.
"Adrien…no, you're not real." Her feeble hope rapidly extinguished, making room for more resignation.
Adrien had an expression of sorrow written across his handsome face, but not horror, nor desperation like his classmate. He looked focused, lucid. At his sight she slowly calmed down.
"Adrien.."
The two grew closer and finally embraced in a hug. The poor girl began sobbing quietly on his shoulder, leaving huge wet smudges on his shirt. Marinette smelled like a soiled baby but Adrien didn't care, he had to help her, by any means necessary. He knew what the entity in the room with them was capable of. He could help her just as he helped him. But first he needed her unequivocal trust.
"I thought I had lost you forever.."
"Don't you ever try to kill yourself again, Mari. I couldn't bear the idea." Adrien warned, as he cupped he girl's face with his hands, giving her a gentle peck on the forehead. Marinette felt a shiver. The memory of his dead hand resurfaced. She forced it down, hoping to never see it again. She stared at his eyes, realizing they were watery too. And felt solace.
"No" she chuckled, for the first time in over a week. "I still have one reason left to live."
Sanguinius was growing impatient, but he let that little display of affection slide. They were just kids. Playing God with living pieces of his Father, locked inside magic baubles. They were given responsibilities no one their age should bear. If only he had more time to spare, he would've looked for the idiot who gave them the jewels in the first place, and beat him to a bloody pulp. Alas, time is never on your side when you need it the most.
When he thought he had enough he cleared his throat audibly, politely asking the two, in a worldess fashion, to disentangle from each other. The kids understood, separated and sat silently on the couch. They still held their hands together.
"Female Holder, you have witnessed the horrors of the Warp and your sanity is steadily slipping away. In order for me to cure you, I beg you to stay still. Let me help you" said Sanguinius.
Marinette felt his hands again on his scalp. Immediatly, shades, colours and objects twitched, moved, deformed as she dared not to move. She had learnt in that nightmarish week that her senses were being probed, and possibly recalibrated. She let him. Her head stopped aching. Memories originally so vivid that felt branded on her head with a hot iron were being slowly washed away, leaving only dingy, vague images. The horror never totally left her, but at least it stopped controlling her. She never felt so relaxed in her life. Everything looked less…hopeless. Desperation and blind trust in her love were slowly being corroborated by an old friend of hers long thought lost: reason. She allowed herself to squeeze Adrien's hand more tightly. It was a good sign, she aknowledged that this world was real, that this was no illusion. Ensuring that no prior memory nor individual behaviour had been contaminated or accidentally excised from her mind, Sanguinius disconnected himself from the young girl, satisfied with the results. She suddenly let a moan slide out of her mouth.
Marinette snapped to reality almost immediatly, and sent an angry look at the primarch in disguise.
"My apologies youngling, it's a counter effect of the procedure. Being relieved of your main sources of stress in such a short time triggers your brain into flooding your system with endorphins. Don't worry, it's perfectly normal, I didn't take your virginity or anything."
Marinette gasped, immediatly broke eye contact and became red as a tomato, burrowing her head in Adrien's chest. He chuckled, hugging her tenderly.
"It happened to me as well. Believe me, it's more awkward when you're a male" he joked. He heard a dim giggle coming from his shirt, and caressed her head in response. He sighed in relief. She was safe.
"That's enough lovebirds. Time is short and I need you to listen to me carefully.." Sanguinius sternly stated, before realizing not everything was set right, yet. The room was a dump and the kids were being too physical in conditions of seriously precarious hygiene. True, he was raised in a post apocalyptic radioactive wasteland, but still, it doesn't give an excuse to not have a pinch of common sense. As he let his psichic might subside enough to not destroy anything it touched, Sanguinius borrowed the eldritch energies of the Immaterium, and sent forth his telekinetic tendrils to…clean up Marinette and her room.
-Next time I meet Father I'm gonna ask for a raise.
With the lair now pristine and the girl not reeking of puke and shit anymore, at last, Sanguinius sat in front of the two teenagers. The two looked back at him, serious and attentive. Good. They will need it. This was going to be a long night.
Marinette's head was in deep turmoil. Once filled with horrific memories, now with questions. So many questions needed an answer. The unearthly being on the other side of the room sat on her chair, waiting for the imminent interrogation. Marinette swallowed nervously. Even if she was no psyker she could feel the sheer potency of the creature, whatever it was. But Adrien already reassured her that he meant no harm, and he cured both of them of their terrible traumas. So she gave herself a bit of composure and started with the questioning:
"Who are you?"
"I am Sanguinius. I am a primarch, a human demigod born to serve our Master, the Emperor of Mankind."
"Who is this Emperor?"
"The Lord of all that you survey. The most powerful and ancient human being, whose might comes close to what you may perceive as divine."
She put that topic aside for a moment. It was all interesting, terribly. But it was not the priority right now.
"What exactly happened a week ago?" Her treatment prevented her from descending back into madness. Still, she felt horribly at its mere mention. Adrien held her tight.
"Your former enemy, Hawkmoth I believe he called himself, tried to ensare a young girl to his will. He didn't know she was gifted with…peculiar powers, so when he entered in her head, he accidentally caused her mind to be exposed to entities inhabiting the Warp, an alternative reality to the one you live in, utterly hostile to life as you know it. These..daemons, have used her very mind as a gate to spew forth into your dimension, causing the destruction you unfortunately still remember."
Marinette was stupefied. Alternative dimensions? Mind powers? Daemons? She shuddered but let him talk anyway.
"One of the Shards protecting you sent an alarm through the Warp before dying, alerting me of the invasion and prompting my army to cross the gate those daemons created, in order to smite them and quench the horror. "
"Shards?"
"He's talking about the kwami" Adrien replied, lowering his head in shame and grief.
"Ah..ok. " Then she realized. "Y-You know about the Kwami?!"
"I am Chat Noir, Marinette. Well, I used to be. The kwami he's referring to was Plagg.."
Marinette gasped…but she was too distraught now to remind herself of that, of how his crush had been the selfless alley cat she knew all along. She understood the pain. She missed Tikki so much. And now that her mind was much clearer, she was starting to have an idea of where she went. And it made her cry. The two embraced again, silently mourning their former friends and guardians, who both gave their very essence to save humanity. They both felt so small, so inept. Their minds kept repeating the same abstract phrase over and over.
-If only I listened/was stronger/helped/prepared myself/talked/respected him/her…more
"Yes, Shards. Your..kwami are nothing but a fraction of the Emperor's very essence, inexplicably bound to…" Sanguinius started, but soon realized their attentions were elsewhere. They emanated layer after layer of anguish and sorrow. Tragedy had fallen onto their lives, but the primarch couldn't afford to lose them again, he needed them sane.
Sanguinius tried to console them.
"You weren't supposed to know. You never faced such a foe. Your response was…understandable." Apparently it didn't work out. He tried to act a little more..casual. Difficult when you're so used of receiving bows and prayers everywhere you go.
"Hey..chin up you two! You're heroes, you still saved the day".
He gently shook them both by the shoulder. Sanguinius had to be very careful when interacting with unaugmented humans. This form was just an illusion, in order to not scare the sensible teenagers with the sight of a 4 meter tall God of War looming over them. But his strength never changed. A tiny pinch of power more and he could pulverize their scapulas like they were made out of chalk. He continued.
"Listen..I know it's difficult but you have to be strong. For them, and for the rest of Mankind." He sighed, and returned back to his pink chair.
"I need you to do something for me. Something very, very important. I know it may seem absurd to you, but this goes far, far beyond this little invasion of yours. We need to warn Him of what it's about to come."
The two turned their heads towards him, not breaking the hug this time. They still needed time. Maybe Sanguinius didn't have much left, but they still had their whole lives ahead. He really didn't want to put the two into another situation like the one they barely escaped from. So he added.
"It's important, yes, but also a long, long task. It might even take your whole lives to pursue. I don't want you to immediatly dive on it. Just…be aware that your help is most needed. And appreciated."
The two silently nodded. He continued.
"You need to find the Emperor of Mankind. My Father. And warn Him of a terrible war that will happen about 30 millennia from now."
The two youngsters shared a look of utter bewilderment. One of them had witnessed untold horrors, the other as well plus died in a sacrilegious fashion, both just went through the worst nighmare fueled days of their existence, and this…pompous boyscout just barges into their lives asking them to warn some douchebag (whom by how he's portrayed sounds like he could've solved everything with a snap of his fingers) about something that would probably never concern their next hundred generations of nephews! What the hell was going on! How was this even remotely related to what just happened? And why them, of all people?
"I sense your frustration, you don't need to voice it, and I understand how you feel. But you have to understand also that this is no frivolous task. We're talking about the very fate of the Galaxy. I'm currently stretching the boundaries of the Immaterium just to speak with you about this. Furthermore, I fear what had happened might set in motion a series of events not even I or He could predict their outcome."
"If you let these events unfold, believe me, what you witnessed will look like a walk in the park. The Emperor must know. That's why I chose you, the only two of three who know what happened, and why I decided to return to this era to ask for your help. If we can prevent the rise of Chaos, you will go beyond your call of duty. You will save humanity and give them a hope for a brighter future."
At this Marinette timidly asked. "What about the Miraculouses?"
Sanguinius frowned. "I'm afraid they are no more. Your role as guardian has ended long ago. Those who survived the onsalught and predation of the Gods have returned to the Emperor. His Shadow in the warp, at least. Yes I know it's indeed a bit confusing. What matters to you is that you find the Emperor in this current time and space."
"With what powers may I ask? Do you forget we're just normal teenagers now?" retorted Adrien. At which Sanguinius decided to unveil his true form. He needed to get this over with. The two had to close their eyes not to be blinded by the aura he emanated. The Giant spoke again, his booming voice now resonating thorugh the walls.
"It is my desire and intention to lend a fragment of His powers to you, once again. You've proven yourself worthy countless times, what lacked was experience. I shall share with you this experience, as well."
As the demigod commanded, Marinette and Adrien were lifted in midair. Their bodies limp, their minds racing. In an instant measured in eons, the young protectors of Paris witnessed, felt, and wielded power of such a magnitude that mere men would've gone mad on its mere exposure. Yet the care of Sanguinius in imparting them valuable lessons, branded in the deepest recesses of their subconscious, prevented them from being overwhelmed. Their tiny frames cracked with lightning, their fingertips vibrated with energy. Soon, they realized the said energy was slowly condensing into familiar object. Two necklaces. Their pendants shaped in the form of a two-headed eagle.
"These are not the same artifacts, they don't wield the same powers. But they will serve you just as well. Remember, find the Emperor of Mankind, tell Him of what you saw, and most of all, warn Him of the Horus Heresy."
The countless acts of atrocity from that utterly, utterly alien conflict of the far future filled their minds. The Istvaan V Massacre, the Battle of Calth, the Burning of Prospero, and many, many more. Sealed behind a psylock, which only one being could ever break. They won't be able to reach these particolar memories, but with a bit of fortune, He shall. Sanguinius let free his enormous wings, the ceiling started to levitate, and soon the three found themselves beneath the stars.
"My time has come. The Immaterium is calling me. I'm sorry I won't be able to tell you more, so bear with me."
The two experienced one last mental onslaught, regarding the nature of the Emperor, his possible whereabouts, and the scent of his Aura.
"So long my friends! May the Light of the Astronomican shine upon thee!"
With that, the angel flew away with the crack of thunder, as the former Holders of the Miraculouses lost their senses and passed away.
Marinette woke up on her room. It was the first time in a long while since she had a good night of sleep. This time, though, she was not alone. As she turned her head to look at her room, she saw a familiar blonde boy snoring on the couch, with one of her blankets keeping him warm. Many emotions started to convey inside her, but not the ones she would've expected in such a predicament: anxiety, worry, and a little bit of hope. She instinctively touched her collarbone, soon finding what she wanted. The necklace of white gold shined brighter than a star under her touch. She has seen what it was capable of. And she saw the responsibilities. She may not be the Guardian anymore, but still a hero remained, and her duties now lied not just in Paris, but in all of the human species. She only hoped that they would not be found wanting again, whatever the future had in store for the two of them.
Her brainstorming was suddenly interrupted by a gentle knock on the cellar door.
"Honey? Can we come in?"
She could do this. She could handle the wrath of his parents. She has handled worse. The death, the suffering, the epiphany.
"Uhm, yeah, come on in!"
The worried couple carefully ascended the remaining stairs and went in. They have brought breakfast. They couldn't believe their eyes. The oppressive atmosphere was gone. Their little girl was looking at them with the characteristic brightness in the eyes they feared had long abandoned her. She looked serene, that's all that mattered to them. As Sabine saw her daughter smiling awkwardly, she ran to her, jumped on the mezzanine and covered her with kisses.
"I was..so…so…worried! The other doctors said you'd be, oh God..you'd be interned in a sanitary!" she cried. The two hugged, sharing their affections and worries. Marinette sobbed as well, she treated them like garbage, and she felt so stupid for having done what she did. She knew deep down she miraculously saved the world with her cowardice, but for what it's worth, she would've died with them, embracing together one last time. She won't commit the same mistake again.
"M-Maman! I love you so much! I won't do anything like that I swear I promise!"
The woman laughed as she wiped off the tears and smiled at her daughter, returning to her hug. She didn't understand truly what she meant, and Marinette hoped with every fibre of her being that she never will.
Meanwhile, Tom stood there, loudly blowing his nose with a tissue, so happy that her child was finally feeling well. Adrien had woken up, and was already enjoying the treats on the plate the burly big baker just brought, watching the show of affection as well, pleased. As Marinette turned to hug her father as well, laughing and smiling, she realized again of the "intruder" in her room, and blushed. Tom understood, and loosened his usually pincer-tight embrace. The two adults turned on each other, chatting while descending the stairs.
"That doctor really did a miracle! I don't know how we could ever repay him!"
"He even left a note about his fee, said it was free of charge! Unbelievable."
"Bless that man Tom, I wish there could be more of them in the world.."
Adrien snickered behind his croissant.
-Be careful what you wish for.
But his thoughts were cut short when he felt two lips pressing against his, still glossed with crumbs and marmalade. Before he could react, two stout, feminine arms were around his neck. They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity, finally enjoying their first moment of their life together, as it was always meant to be. Their trials and tribulations evaporated like snow to the sun. For a moment their worries about the future, and their new task, set aside in favour of their old, childish grudges and hopes, the ones they used to ruminate on when they were still innocent kids playing heroes on the rooftops. As Marinette finally departed from the kiss, she asked, giggling.
"How did you manage to get in here anyway?"
"I said him I couldn't live without you. Turns out, I really didn't." replied softly Adrien, staring into her deep blue eyes.
She ignored the sarcasm and strenghtened the hug "Don't ever leave me alone."
"You and me against the world remember?" he smiled. "I won't. I promise, Princess." As he returned the kisses, putting as much love in them as he could. The croissant on the floor would wait.
The old nicknames sounded strange now. Same old world, no more Miraculous. No more kwami. Marinette still felt the heavy weight on her heart. But at least she knew now, the tiny little imp was part of something greater, something that she helped protect. Tikki would've been proud of her. Adrien couldn't say the same about Plagg though. Or at least, so he thought. Truth is, they never had the chance to say goodbye one last time, and that was Plagg's only regret. He made sure to send to his Holder a fine new guardian though, and this was his last gift to Adrien. One day he will realize it, but until then well, may His light shine upon him.
The two attendants were lazily passing their break in the parking lot, smoking and gossiping about their new guinea pig.
"He's screaming again, ain't he? I'm getting pretty tired of his charade, when will the doctor give us the ok to seal his fucking mouth shut?"
"Committee said the man is such a deranged wreck he's now more fit to be a living experiment than a functioning human. They want to study him as much as they're legally allowed to."
"Sick. And here I thought he was another of those pricks playing pretend to scam the jury."
"After what he's done? Please, the only reason why he's not in the can doing solitary confinement is because he's stuck with us now."
"Who's in charge of the treatment anyway?"
"Dunno man, I saw him only written in the papers. Goes by the name of T.K."
"T.K.? Eh, must be one of those germans shrinks from world war two."
The two bursted into laughter. Too soon cut short by blood curdling shrieks coming from the open hallway.
"Oh,there he goes again, better make sure the straps are tight."
"You're on your own man, I got stuff to do. Besides, the old coot gives me the creeps."
"Suit yourself."
As they departed to their own businesses, the halls of the clinic reverberated with mad gibberish, suggesting whomever personnel left in the wing to hurry to the patient's cell. Gabriel Agreste wriggled and kicked, laughing and crying inside his padded straitjacket. He will get out, and find a way to his masters again. He saw the beauty, now he wanted more. The last summoning failed because of those meddling officers. If only he had more time to perform the ritual..
"Too bad", a squeaky voice replied from the back of his head, malicious.
"NO! NOT YOU AGAIN!" howled Gabriel. The little red flying thing smirked.
"By the way, I brought a friend today, I thought he could use some entertainment." As the creature watched the pathetic human contort in mad fear, another black, formless blob appeared by its side.
"Sup Gabe, long time no see." The two demonic apparitions started their surreal dance, the shadows followed, choking the light and merging their voices into a single, dreadful intonation. The walls started moving and twitching like they were organic, and as some of the shadows parted from their dancing partners, slowly merged and mutated into fat, slimy, black insects, buzzing and licking the prisoner's sweaty skin. Gabriel rolled his eyes inwards as he lost again his voice.
"You want hell Gabriel? We'll show you what true Hell is!"
