A Reversal Of Roles

by hawkflight of riverclan

A look at how The Reverser episode could have gone, had his powers worked a bit too well. When both of Paris's heroes fall, who can even hope to rise up against the villain? Maybe, just maybe, the ones who caused all this in the first place.

1. Break, Breaking, Broken

I've had this written for... a while? For months, at least. Maybe a year. So now, it's finally being posted!

I've always had a lot of problems with The Reverser episode, so... that's why I wrote this. So be prepared for barely anything from canon to exist! In all seriousness, there are going to be a lot of differences in this. Marc's power, for one, actually reverses people's characters, not just individual traits. Being Akumatized leaves lasting consequences, and everyone remembers everything. No memory resets from the Miracle Cure or being un-Akumatized.

A few warnings for this chapter; very very minor character death, mentions of death, horrible crushing guilt, violence, injury, blood, attempted murder, and good people doing bad things because Marc's power has completely rewritten them.

All good? Good. I now present to you;

A Reversal Of Roles Chapter One: Break, Breaking, Broken.

---

When the world wakes, it does not lower itself to give warning. When chaos is on the horizon, it does not care to let us know.

When death and tears are staining the flow of time, the world does not pay mind.

The world feels nothing, handing us to the cruel hands of mortality.

It gives no clues to what is to come. It gives no hints, no resets.

It never gives warning, not caring for all the times we've wished it did.

---

Chloe walked down the hall, a slight sway to her hips, making her way down to the art room. Sabrina followed closely behind her, clutching a backpack protectively in her arms in addition to the one on her back. She cowered whenever Chloe glanced back at her, meekly walking behind as they went on their way. The additional bag Sabrina carried held Chloe's newest project, something sure to impress everyone. They couldn't be so blind as to think badly of this one, surely. Even if they had insulted the others…

They don't know anything, she thought. None of them.

Chloe huffed softly, coming to a stop at the closed door to the art room. Muffled voices flowed through the door, the sounds only slightly distorted. She paused, hand resting on the cool handle. The main voice sounded flustered. Panicked. A sly grin alighted on her lips as she pressed an ear to the door to listen. Whatever conversation they were having would surely end as soon as she entered the room, meaning she had to eavesdrop if she was to know what was happening. It wasn't the first time, what was once more? Sabrina opened her mouth to speak, probably to object to the act, but fell silent with a soft 'eep' when Chloe sent a glare her way.

"-becomes a hero, s-so it's just... just Illustrator," The voice continued. Chloe frowned, taking a moment to try and place the person that the voice belonged to. Without a face, and with the sound filtered through the door, it took her a second to realize who it was. Nathaniel.

"I... I see. Of course." Well, that voice definitely belonged to someone older, so that would be the art teacher. He sounded hesitant, almost unsure, as if worried about crossing some unseen line. What were they talking about? She needed to figure it out, if only to satisfy her curiosity. Who knew, maybe it would be something she could use… He'd mentioned something about an illustrator. Maybe it was a specific person?

"I think it's a great idea Nathan." Another voice, this time female. Chloe scowled, not even needing a second to place the newest student that was taking part in the conversation. So Marinette was spending time in the art room today too.

Chloe hissed softly to herself, trying to keep her annoyance from making her reveal herself. There was just something about the girl that Chloe couldn't stand. She'd never quite been able to place it, but there were many things that were just... off about Marinette, all of them things that tore at Chloe's nerves. It felt like there was something deeper though, something Chloe couldn't see, just out of reach... Not a specific trait, or Marinette's obsession with Adrien. Something… different.

Chloe pushed that thought aside; it wasn't the time to be focusing on this. Marinette was still talking. "The Evi- I mean, um, the Illustrator teaming up with Ladybug and Chat Noir? It sounds like a pretty great story. Maybe you could write one! Oh! Or you draw a comic about it!"

Chloe narrowed her eyes. That's what they were talking about? And Nathaniel had the nerve to call himself a hero? Disgust bubbled up to replace her curiosity, hiding just under her skin. The people who'd been Akumatized were horrible. Clearly there was something wrong with them, in order for them to become something so... so awful.

'It's happened to you. You were Anti-Bug, once.' The thought snuck past her defenses, slipping into her focus. She shoved the idea away. That hadn't been her fault. She was different from the others. Still, the shame burned in her blood, painting itself across her skin. Everyone could see it. Everyone knew. It mixed with her disgust and anger, growing into a slimy regret that coated her heart, flooding her lungs as she tried to breathe. But she wasn't supposed to feel that way. She was different. She had no reason to feel like this.

So she refused to.

Chloe focused back in on the conversation, apparently having only been caught up in her thoughts for a moment. It felt like longer. She could feel Sabrina's eyes on her, watching. Judging. How much did she know? Could Sabrina see what Chloe wanted to hide away?

Chloe stopped that line of thought right where it was. This wasn't the time to think; it was time to listen. Nathaniel was hesitantly asking Marinette if she really thought that way about his ideas. She gave a firm yes, saying anyone could be a hero if they just tried and helped people. There was hopeful agreement from others, probably all people who'd been Akumatized as well. Chloe gritted her teeth. As if just anyone could be a hero.

As if that were possible.

As if they could just make up for what they'd done.

As if they even deserved a chance to make up for it.

People like her- People like Nathaniel were broken. They were disgusting, awful, monsters. They didn't deserve a second chance. They had all lost that right the very moment they had become Hawkmoth's puppets. They were all tainted. Evil. Before she even really knew what she was doing, she'd opened the door. She lost herself, then, to her anger. And she embraced it.

"Keep dreaming. As if he could ever be a hero," she sneered, all but baring her teeth. All eyes turned to her, and the very room seemed to be holding its breath. Nathaniel wilted under her words, flinching back, as if trying to avoid her eyes. "He's a villain. It's all he'll ever be. Just a horrible, disgusting kid who was stupid enough to listen to the biggest bad guy in the world."

Everyone seemed to be too shocked to speak. Good. That let her keep going, let her cast out every vile, hateful thought in her mind and expose them to the air. Words spilled from her mouth in a flood. She didn't even think about what she was saying; as soon as they formed in her mind, they were slipping past her lips. She didn't care. She didn't care, and they deserved it.

"Really, you should just stick to drawing the only people who're actually doing good in this city. It's the only thing you can do right. Or maybe you should gather all your broken friends together, and the rest of us can wait here and hope a tree falls on you." The shame wrapping around her heart loosened slightly with every word she said, only inspiring an even sharper tone. If it made her feel better, it was clearly what she should do. (It was all she could do.)

"All of you are just accidents waiting to happen again," she snapped, and the other students all flinched at that. "Getting rid of you would be better than letting you walk around, making the problems worse than they already are."

Chloe didn't notice the tears pooling in Nathaniel's eyes, or the way his hands were shaking. She didn't see the anger in everyone's expressions, or the way some seemed to be barely able to hold themselves back from retaliating in whatever form they could. She didn't realize that in a room full of the people she was targeting, it might not be a good idea to continue to try and tear them down. She didn't notice the way Sabrina trembled beside her, tense, as if she were about to cry as well.

And she didn't see Alix approaching until she'd grabbed Chloe's shoulder in a near painful grip, her expression dark. While others were on the verge of tears, she was on the verge of violence.

"I think you should go," Alix hissed, pushing Chloe towards the door. "Anti-Bug."

Chloe froze. That last word had been hardly audible to even her, but the girl had said it. All the dark, roiling guilt that Chloe had managed to push away came back in a flood. She couldn't breathe, her lungs refusing to hold enough air for her to survive. Her hands shook, and she could feel her eyes burning, threatening tears. She swallowed, breaking through her trance, shoving the feeling away.

"Fine," she muttered, turning away to hide her face, her mask of control slipping even as she tried to hold it together. She wouldn't let them see her like this. "Your loss. Come on, Sabrina. Let's go." She snapped her fingers, and the other girl jumped slightly, but followed.

Chloe walked stiffly into the hall, ignoring the people muttering behind her. She caught some angry barbs directed at her, some people congratulating and thanking Alix for forcing her away, and some... reassurances. People brushing off her words and comforting those who couldn't. The teacher seemed to finally break out of his stunned silence, trying to get the room back under control. Chloe sniffed, partly to show her disdain, partly to keep the tears at bay.

She was right- they just didn't see that yet. No one saw it as she did, but she knew she was the only one seeing clearly.

They were all broken.

---

Chloe groaned, glaring down at the table before her. The writhing anger and hurt from yesterday still raged in her chest, distracting her. She had the whole break ahead of her, just a bit of time to do what she wanted between classes, but it was all she could think about. She hated it.

With a sigh, she stood up and started walking. She didn't know where she was going, but she needed to do something. Think about something else. She hadn't been walking for long before she heard people talking, panic laced into one of the voices. She slowed, peeking around a corner. The last time she'd eavesdropped it hadn't ended well, but she just couldn't help it. She needed to know what was going on. Why did they sound so freaked out?

She looked around the corner, creeping closer to the room the voices were coming from. She carefully peeked inside, welcomed by the sight of Marc and Marinette. Why were they hiding out in an empty room? A closed notebook laid before Marc, who sat at a desk in the far corner of the room. One of his hands rested protectively on the cover, while the other tapped an erratic beat on his knee. Marinette was smiling, sitting in a chair she'd pulled up so she could sit beside him.

"It's okay, Marc," Marinette was saying. "You don't have to do it, I just thought it was a fun idea!"

Marc's fingers stopped tapping, his hand closing into a fist. He took a deep breath. He'd always been bad with people. Chloe had never taken real notice of him, but she knew that much. He was always hiding in corners, ducking out of sight. The people who did know him seemed to like him, though. That included Marinette. Just the fact that the two were friends made Marc that more unlikeable.

"I-I know, and I want too!" he said. "But... my writing really isn't that good. Nathaniel would probably hate it, or me, and-"

"Of course he wouldn't!" Marinette cut him off, and Chloe couldn't tell if she was more confused or panicked. "For one, why would he hate you? You're a good person, Marc. He isn't going to hate you for no reason. And I'm sure your writing is amazing, and even if it wasn't, I don't think he'd hate it. But it was just an idea. You don't have to make a comic together."

Chloe grinned, slipping away from the corner. She missed Marc's reply, but she didn't care. If she played this right... this could be fun. If nothing else, getting a look at that notebook might give her blackmail material. It took a lot of waiting, and a lot of wasted time, but Marc finally left his bag unattended. Really, it was like he thought that it would disappear if he took his eyes off of it for more than a second- which, she supposed, was kind of true.

Chloe slipped her hand in and pulled out the notebook, clutching it to her chest as she hurried away. No one seemed to notice. Smiling, she walked into the ladies restroom and locked herself into one of the stalls. She flipped to the first page, raising an eyebrow.

'The Journal of Ladybug?' Chloe frowned, flipping forward. With every new page her smile grew, becoming sharper with every word she read. Marc really didn't give himself enough credit, the book was well written. She was almost even impressed. Maybe... Maybe it was even good enough to fool someone?

She reached into her bag and pulled out a pencil, erasing Marc's name from the bottom of the first page. There. Now it was perfect. She closed the book with a soft snap, slipping it into her purse.

Over the course of the day, Chloe enacted her plan. She slipped the book to Nathaniel, along with a stenciled note claiming it as the real thing. Maybe that wasn't very likely, but hopefully it was good enough to be believable. If not, she would find a way to work with whatever reaction it received. She watched him throughout the day, and saw him reading it between classes with starstruck eyes. Well, that was easy. It was a bit of a shame, though. Anger or disbelief could have been fun to work with. Regardless, she continued.

She slipped a note into Marc's locker, saying that someone had found his notebook and would meet him at the park that night at seven. She almost laughed when his face had crumpled with relief after reading it, and she constantly saw him eyeing the clock from then on. From there, she'd given a note to Nathaniel, explaining that Ladybug would be at the park at seven to retrieve her journal.

All she needed to do now was sit back and wait for it all to fall apart.

---

Marc was frantic. He'd searched through his backpack dozens of times, even going so far as to empty everything out just to make sure. He'd checked his locker as well, but found nothing. He asked Marinette, and the few other friends he had- even worked up the courage to ask a few random students, but they hadn't seen anything. He hadn't seen anything either. He was sure that he had put his notebook into his backpack, he had checked several times to make sure it was there, but he was also sure it was gone. It was really missing.

He tried not to spiral too far into panic, but he just couldn't see what else he could do. He'd looked and looked and asked around, and he couldn't do anything else. What if he couldn't find it? ...What if someone else found it? If anyone read it... well, they'd probably tell everyone else. And then they would all laugh, or pity him because everyone else was making fun of him. Or maybe they would ruin it, or write in it, or... or whatever else they could do!

Anxiety crawled up his throat, buzzed in his chest, wrapping around his heart until every beat felt off kilter. His lungs seemed to seize up, making it difficult to breathe. Marc was sure he'd never be able to handle the consequences if any of that happened. He'd really rather leave.

But he had to find it first. See the damage, whether to the book or his social standing. Most importantly the book- he didn't really matter much himself, but he had spent time and energy writing that book. He'd poured himself into every word. Losing that... that was like losing a part of himself. He needed to find that book. Which was why he found himself at his locker. He'd checked it already, of course, more than once, but he needed to look again. He needed to be absolutely sure that it wasn't there.

Marc opened the small locker, prepared to sift through the mountain of pencils and books, both his own and ones for school. The contents of his locker were usually far more organized, but now it all lay in a cluttered mess. He'd been... distressed when he'd looked the first time. He reached out to start looking through, and maybe reorganize everything, but he paused. There was a folded paper laying on top of his things, apparently slipped in through the slits in the door. He frowned, unfolding it. The writing was stiff, all the letters uniform and lacking energy; the author apparently hadn't been in a hurry to get it finished, making sure to disguise the handwriting. That was… suspicious, to say the least.

'Marc,' the note read, 'I found your book. Don't worry, no one else has seen it. I'll be at the park near the Dupain-Cheng bakery at seven tonight, at the fountain. Meet me there.'

He stared at the short message, relief flooding him. Someone had found it; he could get it back. They said no one else read it, so maybe it was all okay. Maybe everything could just go back to how it was supposed to be. He let the panic he'd felt drain away into a simple sense of unease- after all, he didn't know who it was. But still, he couldn't help but be relieved. And then, of course, came the fear.

It crashed down suddenly, replacing his relief with worry. His chest seized, heart beating rapidly. Just who had found it? Why couldn't they just give it back now? Were they even going to give it back to him? The note only said to be there. Maybe it was a set up, maybe it was a trick. They probably wanted something, or maybe no one would show up. He forced himself to breathe, drawing in a ragged breath. It didn't do much to calm his nerves. Maybe he shouldn't go. Maybe he should wait. But even as he entertained the idea, he knew he couldn't. He had to go. He didn't really have a choice. Whatever the messenger wanted, he had to give it to them. And that terrified him.

But he needed that book. And if they just didn't show up, then he'd only wasted a bit of time. If they wanted something, then... then he'd just cross that bridge when he came to it. It would be fine. He forced himself to breathe, forced himself to calm down. It was probably okay, wasn't it? Most of the students he knew, or even knew of, were all good people. It was probably fine. Everything was going to be okay. He just needed to believe that and maybe it would become reality. For now, it was the only thing that allowed him to wait.

---

It was finally time.

School had dragged on far too long. The classes all blended together, words were fuzzy at best, and any conversations he had became static in his memory. The clocks ticking was a loud, ever present nightmare as time taunted him. He could barely wait until he could leave. He almost cracked, his desire to leave nearly breaking him. But finally, the monotony had ended, allowing him to go, but... he'd realized a minute afterwards that he still had to wait. Hours had to go by before he could get his notebook back. And those few hours had been painful, the time barely passing, moving in a slow crawl. But finally, finally, the wait was over. He could get his book back.

'If they even show up- and even if they do, they might not give it back,' his thoughts hissed, stirring the remaining panic in his chest. He bit his lip. He'd waited, and waited, and waited and now it was time.

His stomach churned, writhing and twisting in time to his anxiety. He had to get his book. If he didn't, he didn't know what he would do. He'd take doing whatever favor this person wanted over never getting it back any day. Or whatever else it was they'd want. He also didn't want to leave the school, which, he'd already decided, was the only option if this person leaked any of his writing to the other students. He really didn't want to leave though. Especially not so soon after the last time…

Marc took a deep breath, shoving trembling hands into his jacket pockets. The park spread before him, mostly empty. There were a few people still playing a little ways off, though, and a bunch of them walking down the streets. He moved over to the fountain, sitting down on the rim. The stone was cool, and he pressed his hands against the hard surface. The chill helped ground him, and he took another breath. Soon. It would be soon. He'd arrived early, but it wouldn't be that long now.

He tapped his fingers against the fountain, listening to the steady thumps and clicks as his nails and skin took turns hitting the cool stone. A slight pain buzzed in the tips of his fingers, but he ignored it, continuing the steady rhythm. The noise was comforting, helping him control which way his thoughts flowed. The pattern continued, getting more and more complex, until a voice sounded behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hello?"

Marc jumped, scrambling to his feet and whirling around to face whoever spoke. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Nathaniel stood there awkwardly, shock, embarrassment and disappointment all blurring together in his expression. Marc opened his mouth to speak, but then something else caught his eye. A book, held protectively against Nathaniel's chest. His notebook. Relief flooded him. It didn't look damaged, and, more importantly, it was actually here.

"M-my book! You found it!" He reached out, pulling back as the red-haired student held the book far from his reach. Anger was the only clear thing left in his face now.

"Yours? This is Ladybug's," Nathaniel's voice wasn't raised, but it was barbed, thick with emotion. Mostly anger, but maybe… just a bit of hesitation? Marc flinched back at the sound, the tone cutting him deeper than the actual words. At least, until the context and meaning snapped together in his head.

What… what was he talking about? It was his. Marc recognized it, and even if that wasn't enough, there were little marks on the spine. He'd drawn them himself, using the action as a distraction in times of high anxiety.

Nathaniel looked away, voice softening. "She's going to meet me here. You... you should probably go."

"What?" The word slipped past Marc's lips before he recognized what was happening. Confusion and fear twisted and writhed in his stomach. He felt sick. What was he talking about? What was going on? Ladybug was coming to... to take the book? In a sudden moment of clarity, panic exploded to life in his chest, burning away his confusion, along with even his fear, and sending fire shooting through his veins. The next word fell from his lips in a growl before he even knew what it was going to be. "No!"

He lunged forward, reaching for his book. Nathaniel's eyes widened as he jumped back. With a yelp, he stumbled, trying to steady himself. The distraction was enough to allow Marc to get a good grip on his notebook. He tugged, trying to rip it from Nathaniel's hands, jerking forward with a gasp as the other boy did the same. His grip slipped, and his frantic fingers ripped the book open. They both scrambled to get a better grip, each grabbing one end of the open cover.

"Give it back!" Nathaniel grunted, yanking on the book. A horrible tearing sound filled the air, and in a sudden moment, Marc fell backwards, time seeming to slow. Nathaniel stumbled in front of him, dropping a book cover in his shocked effort to remain standing. Pages fluttered in the air, small, cramped writing littering the pages. Marc stared with wide eyes, a cloud over his thoughts. And then the reality of what happened sunk in.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he looked over the carnage. The worn spine of the book had torn, leaving them both with just half a cover. Some pages had torn free and had scattered throughout the area, though there wasn't enough wind to steal them away. Marc stared, dazed. A useless, dead cover fell from his limp fingers, hitting the ground just a second before he collapsed to his knees with a strangled gasp.

Somehow frantic even in his numbed state, he started gathering the loose papers, even little pieces that had been torn from main pages. He had only a few pages and the cover, luckily with many pages still attached, back in his grasp when a gentle hand hesitantly alighted on his shoulder. His eyes snapped up.

Nathaniel stood there, bent over awkwardly to reach his shoulder. For a moment, Marc just stared numbly, his tears no longer really falling, just occasionally slipping down his face. Nathaniel hesitated, seeming to have no idea what to say.

"Marc...?"

And just like that, anger snapped into place, replacing the cold, numb feeling with fire. Marc jumped up to his feet, a snarl already on his lips.

"What? What the heck do you want? Because I don't know about you, but I want you to leave me alone so I can-" he choked, tightening his grip on the remains of the book that he still held in his hands. "...So I can try to put this all back together."

Nathaniel trembled, opening his mouth to speak, but suddenly Marc couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything. A purple tint filled his vision, the world appearing as if he was looking through stained glass. What… What was this? Nathaniel's eyes had gone wide, and he stumbled back. Guilt and shock and... fear twisted the boys face. But before Marc could even think to respond to that, a voice called to him. It sounded like it was right next to him, like someone was whispering in his ears, but more. Like it was in his head.

"Reverser," the voice was clear and firm, demanding obedience and attention while at the same time acting as a comforting whisper. It was... part of him, somehow. It was tied into his head, tangled up with his thoughts. But even so, he could tell the voice wasn't his own. "The thing you loved and created has been destroyed, simply because someone thought you'd be someone else. They believed you should have been someone, something, different. Someone set you up to fail from the beginning."

Marc's hands clenched into fists. The voice- No. He knew what this was. Who this was. The voice belonged to Hawkmoth. It had to. He had no other possible explanation, save for insanity. There was nothing else it could be. And Hawkmoth was right. The sudden realization of what was happening didn't bother him as much as he knew it should. He should be scared, or, at the very least, unwilling. But... he wasn't. What got to him, what really, truly bothered him, was the sudden revelation that this had been a setup. It shouldn't be so surprising, he'd thought about that very thing, but somehow shock still shot through him, his limbs suddenly feeling heavy, weighed down with the knowledge.

He wanted to find them, to do something. Make them pay for this. But at the same time... he just wanted to sit and calm down, not alone, but with someone he trusted. He just wanted to exist and be left to do what he wanted, but he also wanted to do something to get back at whoever had set him up. Get vengeance. The conflicting desires clashed, but he couldn't separate them. He wanted both.

"So how about we write a new story?" Hawkmoth continued. "No one will be what they claim to be, and they won't be what they are. The strong shall become weak, the brave shall become cowards, the good shall become evil. I will grant you this power, and all you must do in return is bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses. What do you say?"

"Yes," he whispered, almost too quiet for even himself to hear it. Marc was dimly aware someone was shouting, shaking his arm. He blinked, the blurry image of Nathaniel coming into focus. Anger and hurt bubbled and twisted in his chest, tearing him apart in a wild bid for freedom. For release. For this. And so he'd take it. In a shuddering half whisper, his response was laid out for everyone to hear; "Yes, Hawkmoth."

"Then go," Hawkmoth ordered, and Marc thought he could hear the grin in his voice, "and spin a new tale."

And then it was cold. The kind of chill that sends needles through deadened limbs, numbing all other sensation. The kind of cold that burned with a frozen fire, killing anything it touches. It started at his feet, traveling up his legs and across his chest in a sudden wave. It traveled down into his fingers, cracking the fragile bones as ice traveled under his skin, all while it dug cold nails into his face. The only thing that remained unfrozen were his eyes, but they were burning. A fire spread in a line across his eyes, dusting his cheeks with the feeling of heat and pins and needles and pain.

Despite it all, the shock, hurt, and the terror, all he could do was remain still. He couldn't even scream, but even if he could, he doubted he would hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.

And then it stopped, just as suddenly as it had started. Everything returned to how it should be. Feeling was restored, the cold withdrawing. But... something was wrong. Or, perhaps, just different? A feeling of... power flowed in his veins, a warmth and security he couldn't help but bask in. To just exist and forget about everything, just for a moment. But he knew the moment couldn't last forever. Nothing ever could.

He opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, anger flooding his mind as he spotted Nathaniel, shattering the odd calm he had felt.

Nathan was on the ground, looking as if he'd stumbled back and tripped. Terror, pain, guilt, sympathy, shame... It was a war painted across his face, each emotion battling for dominance. His eyes were shining with unrealized tears, a stark fear in his gaze. Good. He may not have set this up, but Nathaniel had been a part of it. Had destroyed his book. He wasn't the cause, but he'd been part of the conflict.

Reverser extended a hand, a single paper airplane materializing in his grip. It was white, with a black ring in the center. A neat script covered the otherwise white portion of the paper in dark lettering, all some variation of the word change, such as modification, reversal, shift, switch, transformation, transition, variation... the list went on. There were some repeats he could see, but he didn't have time to read.

With a flick of his wrist, the plane was sent slicing cleanly through the air, heading straight for Nathaniel.

---

Nathaniel sat frozen, staring with wide eyes at what once was Marc.

Marc had never drawn much attention, but Nathan had seen the other student around, sitting and writing quietly in the corners of the room, smiling awkwardly at teachers and students alike, writing notes and things on any scrap of paper he could get his hands on. The boy had been shy and closed off, but through a few small interactions, he'd seemed genuinely sweet. Kind, empathetic, open. Honest. How had that boy turned into the monster before him? The change was drastic, going from a barely noticeable shadow to the center of anyone's attention. How was it possible to change so much, in such a short amount of time?

'No,' he thought, 'you know how. You know why.' And he really did. He should have realized what could happen, he should have seen how tired and distressed Marc had been. But he hadn't. He'd hung onto his stupid ideas of being noticed, of being forgiven, and ignored the things staring him right in the face. Why was he so stupid?

He had no doubt in his mind that the book had belonged to Marc now, after seeing the agony its destruction had caused. He understood that feeling, he really did. He was an artist for heaven's sake! He knew what it was like to have your work mocked, stolen, belittled, and yes, destroyed. He knew what it was like. He knew how attached you could get to something you put so much time and effort in. He knew the pride and possessiveness that came with pouring yourself into your work. And when something like that was destroyed… He'd been heartless enough to cause that pain in a boy who hadn't deserved it. It seemed as though someone, though he could guess who, had set them both up.

But it was still because of him this happened. He'd caused enough pain to draw Hawkmoth (and he shuddered at the name, even just in his mind), and then... he hadn't been able to stop the Akuma from corrupting Marc. He trembled at the memory; a purple light to Marc's eyes, mask over his face. He'd worn the dazed look of someone first contacted by Hawkmoth, and he'd barely seemed to notice Nathaniel. As soon as the Akuma had arrived, dissolving into the mass of pages that Marc held, it had been too late. Everything other than Hawkmoth was all but blocked out completely.

And then Marc had said yes. Black light enveloped him, and Nathaniel barely remembered backing away or falling to the ground as he misstepped. Phantom feelings covered his body in needles, his eyes stinging. The pain of the transformation haunted him, as did the power it brought with it. The feeling that you could do anything, if you just tried. Nathan had tried so hard to block them both out, but he couldn't forget. None of them could. The painful aftermath… perhaps he deserved it, but the others didn't. They never had.

Once the transformation was complete, the light receded, and a stranger stood in Marc's place. The boy seemed more confident than he had previously, standing taller. His skin was light grey, his hair an inky black. Two marks were printed across the skin underneath each eye, looking almost like the two sides of the yin-yang symbol. He wore a large hood, hiding most of his head. The hood was attached to a long, sleeveless coat, the back flaring out in a kind of cape, while the front ended around his waist. Bracers attached to his upper arms, just below the shoulders, and long gloves hid his arms up to his elbows.

The entire outfit was done in white and black, complete with a symbol on his chest. It was, again, almost the yin-yang symbol, but it wasn't quite right. The two halves were both black, with white dots in each, separated only by a curved, white line.

Nathaniel stared up at him from where he'd fallen, guilt, shame, and fear all churning in his chest. His heart and lungs constricted, making it hard to breathe as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Marc, or what was left of him anyway, was still. Peaceful. His eyes were closed, and he appeared content. Nathaniel remembered that, the first rush of power, the first time feeling complete. He still felt a hole in his chest, an ache that longed for that feeling again. But he would never go back.

He would never listen to Hawkmoth again. The first time was bad enough. That determination didn't stop the feeling of loss, though, or the pain. It didn't actually quite hurt, but it was close. As if there was something missing in his chest, and his ribs were nearly cracking in a bid to close up, to refill the gap. More pressure than real pain. A reminder that he couldn't outrun.

Slowly, Marc's eyes cracked open, and he looked around for a moment before his gaze snapped to Nathaniel. Anger twisted the previous look of contentment, a snarl on his lips. Loss filled his mismatched eyes, one a silver-grey and the other black. His eyes shone bright against the dark rage pooling about the rest of his form. He lifted a hand, forming a paper airplane from the air. And suddenly, the thing was flying right at him.

Nathaniel didn't think, just moved, rolling to the side. The plane hit the ground right where he'd just been a second before, crumbling into black dust as it made contact with the ground. His head snapped up as he caught a glimpse of movement, and he jumped back to avoid a second plane.

He scrambled to his feet, hearing screams rise up as people finally noticed what was going on. Marc glared at a woman crying out for Ladybug and Chat Noir, throwing a plane lazily in her direction. Nathaniel cried out, but the projectile hit.

Suddenly, her demeanor changed. No longer afraid, the woman simply glared at the other people around her. With a grimace, she walked away, pushing people aside when they got too close. What... what happened? What did Marc do to her? Nathaniel watched in horror as a police officer approached, trying to speak to Marc, trying to get him to stop, only to be hit by another plane. Immediately, the man turned and... fired on the people rushing away from the park. Glistening red painted the air, the people, and the sidewalk. He managed another shot before his partner managed to disarm him and drag him into their car.

Nathaniel barely even noticed when Marc turned back to him, raising a hand to throw a plane his way, too focused on the crumpled forms on the ground. And then a figure in red dropped in front of him, pushing him to the side. The plane crumbled harmlessly into the grass, and Nathaniel's eyes opened wide.

"Ladybug?" he asked, his voice feeling weak and hoarse. She looked over her shoulder at him, gave a tense smile, and then turned back to Marc.

A purple mask, seemingly crafted out of light, had settled over his eyes, and he'd gone completely still, head tilted, listening. After a second it vanished, and Marc blinked before his gaze focused back on Ladybug. His eyes narrowed.

"Give me your Miraculous," he hissed, shifting forward. His voice was distorted, almost like it was being played over static. "Now."

Ladybug grinned, spinning her weapon through the air. She seemed confident, but had she seen what Marc's powers could do to people? Had she seen what had happened? Had she seen them die? Did she know about the bodies?

"And who are you, exactly?" she asked, her smile unfaltering. Marc threw a plane her way, but she dodged it easily. She glanced back at Nathaniel, mouthing the word 'run' before turning back to face her opponent. Marc growled, sending several more planes her way. She avoided every single one.

"Well?" Ladybug asked, ducking as a plane soared just above her head. "Who are you?"

"Reverser." Marc hissed. He glanced around, before throwing half of a book cover to the ground. Nathaniel stared at it, eyes wide. He hadn't even realized Marc had still clung to it, but that was to be expected. It held the Akuma, after all.

As he watched, dark light bubbled around the book, expanding and twisting, pulling in the other scattered pages and cover, until it formed a giant paper plane, hovering just above the ground. Marc, or Reverser, as Hawkmoth had named him, jumped nimbly onto the plane, and it lifted further into the air, until Marc stood far higher than any of them were tall.

"Reverser!" Ladybug shouted after him, "Get down here!"

"Marc," Nathaniel whispered. Ladybug looked at him, turning almost too quickly. He was pretty sure he heard her neck crack at the motion. Ladybug seemed surprised. No, no, it was more than that. She was shocked. Dumbfounded. Did she know them…? Was that why she was so surprised?

"What?" she asked, eyes still wide.

"His name. It's Marc." As he spoke, the plane carrying Marc darted away. Why? It had seemed that he'd been a prime target, and Ladybug was right here. Why was he leaving? Where was he going?

"I have to go!" Ladybug said quickly, moving to run in the direction Marc had flown. She turned back to him, hesitating for a moment, before speaking again. "Get somewhere safe, Nathan."

And then she was gone.

Nathaniel watched her go, distantly wondering at the use of his shortened name, before looking around. His gaze lingered on the corpses on the ground, horror settling cold and thick in his stomach. The bodies were across the park, over on the far sidewalk. They were nowhere near him, but... he could still see them. What kind of things could Marc do? What was he capable of? He'd made a cop turn and shoot civilians, and he didn't even blink. If he hit Ladybug or Chat Noir... what would they do?

Nathan felt sick, the world tilting around him. The sound of gunfire and screaming filled his head, mixed with the image of blood spraying into the air. Blood pooling onto the ground, baking in the sun. One of the bodies was small, maybe around his height, but probably shorter. Maybe they really were just short, but maybe… They could be a child.

He tore his gaze away, knees hitting the ground. Pain shot through his legs, but he couldn't even cry out before his stomach heaved. He choked for a second, before fire raced through his throat and the contents of his stomach were emptied into the grass before him. A disgusting, acrid smell filled the air, but as he shifted to move away, his stomach lurched and threatened to expel the remainder of its contents. He coughed, taking in a ragged breath. The sight of the corpses were still in his head, the reality of what happened, what he'd witnessed, what he'd caused.

Nathan trembled, finally pushing himself to his feet. His stomach twisted again with the motion, sending acid up his throat. He swallowed thickly, stumbling away. Two people were dead, and the blame was partially his. He hadn't paid attention, hadn't listened, hadn't stopped this all from happening. If he'd just listened, or explained maybe, all of this could have been avoided.

Sure, some blame fell on the one who set them up, if that's even what happened, some blame rested on Hawkmoth for corrupting Marc, for giving him the powers he had. Marc, of course, had a portion of the blame. He'd listened to Hawkmoth, he used the powers. He had hit the policeman, causing the destruction.

But Marc also had Hawkmoth whispering to him, and had an Akuma twisting his thoughts around. Nathaniel knew from experience that it was hard to think of anything besides your goal and what Hawkmoth told you when you were under the influence of an Akuma. Your thoughts got blurry thinking about anything else. Unfocused and confused. It was harder to tell if something was right or wrong, good or bad. When working on your own goal or going after the Miraculouses, they were clearer, though still fuzzy. Harder to maintain than they normally were.

Even well meaning people with good goals got turned around, sowing chaos and destruction. It was all an excuse, but it was a good one. And besides, he doubted Marc had known the officer would kill anyone. After all, the woman from earlier had simply left. But… what was she doing now?

The cop had shot them in the first place, but he'd been under the influence of Marc's- No, no. Reverser's powers. Because that wasn't something Marc would do. Ever. At least... Nathaniel hoped he wouldn't.

And then there was himself. He hadn't tried hard enough to help, to stop Marc from being corrupted. He'd been the final push Marc had needed to draw the attention of Hawkmoth. If he hadn't been so stupid, people wouldn't have died.

Nathan stumbled back, legs threatening to collapse, moving in the opposite direction from where Ladybug and Reverser had gone. He took a few steps, before he stopped. If it really was his fault, shouldn't he do something besides run and hide? Do something to help? Sirens sounded in the distance, quickly approaching. The noise cut through his panic, scattering the fog from his mind. He took a shuddering breath, stabilizing himself, before running in the direction Ladybug had gone.

As he ran, horror continued to race through him, like ice water running through his veins. People were fighting, black rings around their eyes. He hadn't seen that on the people Reverser had affected earlier, but he was sure it was because of him. The others were probably just too far away, or he'd been too distracted. Other people were crying, curled up next to buildings. A car had crashed a little further down the street, and a few people were trying to get the unconscious (or dead) driver out of the debris. Others were walking away, others yelling, shouting, screaming, a horrible mix of voices all blocking each other out. Some people were silent. They just sat, staring. A few moved among the people, some with rings around their eyes, some without, helping. So what did Marc's power do?

It was then that it became obvious. He was named Reverser for a reason. His powers, then, just twisted someone's character around. Made them the opposite of what they were. Maybe. It made sense, if you thought about it.

Nathan looked more closely, paid more attention to the people he passed. Most of them were afraid. They, he noticed, were free of the black rings the others had. Reverser had only briefly passed through, he guessed. It made sense, he'd been running from Ladybug, and might be running still. But... why waste time going after these people? They weren't involved. They didn't do anything. Though, neither did the woman from earlier… The policeman, though, had been actively trying to stop him. It was too erratic, too confusing. What was Marc's goal?

He ran, following any sign of Reverser's presence. With all the destruction and chaos he left, it was easy to follow his trail. After another minute, he reached the bridge. Nathan stumbled to a stop, staring at the scene before him. Reverser was still in the air, somehow staying balanced on his plane. Ladybug was still dodging his attacks, trying to deflect them with her yo-yo.

She twisted out of the way, and the plane went on to hit a man who'd been running below them. Ladybug looked on in panic, but couldn't stop long enough to help. Maybe that was it. Maybe the people in the streets hadn't been targets, just... accidents. Maybe Marc hadn't meant to cause all the damage he has been. Nathaniel wasn't sure if that was a comfort or not.

On one hand, there was the fact that he wasn't doing it on purpose, wasn't trying to cause so much destruction, but on the other... If he could do so much damage simply by reckless accident, then what could he do if he was trying?

As Nathaniel watched, the purple mask alighted on Reverser's face, and he scowled. The mask vanished a second later, and the next time Reverser attacked, he wasn't aiming for Ladybug. The plane zipped past her, slamming into a young man on a bike, riding fast to get away quickly. The attack made him swerve and... he toppled over the side of the bridge. Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat, blood roaring in his ears. The image of two bodies appeared before him, blood shimmering in the sun, pooling around one's head and the others back.

"Not again," he whispered, stumbling forward. "Please, not again…"

Time seemed to slow down, a single second on repeat. The man was falling. Ladybug was running. And then... so was he. His legs moved without his consent, carrying him over the bridge and to the railing. He was slow. The entire world was so slow. But then Ladybug dove off the side of the bridge, and everything snapped into movement so suddenly he froze, head reeling from the sudden change.

Ladybug swung up the other side of the bridge, having somehow used her yo-yo to swing back up, the man safe in her arms. She put him down, and... a plane slammed into her back, exploding into black dust. Nathaniel stood, frozen. No... no, no no no no. That... that couldn't have happened. It had to have been in his head, it had to have been. Because if it wasn't... then something bad was going to happen, he was sure of it.

Ladybug paused, dark rings circling her eyes. And then she pushed the man she'd just saved away and stood up. She caught sight of Nathan watching out of the corner of her eye, turning around to face him.

Her eyes seared into him, a fire burning in her gaze. Anger and disgust, mixing together and twisting her face into something between a snarl and a grimace. Pain, more emotional than physical, raced through him. She glared, opening her mouth to speak and then Reverser was there, sending a plane his way. He ducked, feeling the air shift right above his head.

He tensed, preparing to run, when the purple light returned to Reverser's face. He scowled, but shifted his stance and looked to Ladybug. The hero was... walking away.

"Ladybug!" Reverser called after her, "At least give me your Miraculous before you go."

She turned slowly, a hand raising to her ear. Nathaniel crept forward, keeping an eye on Reverser as he moved. Ladybug wouldn't give up her powers, not to Hawkmoth. He knew that. But... if that were true, why did he feel so scared? Something in her eyes, in the way she held herself... It was wrong.

"My Miraculous?" her voice was twisted, bitter. "Why not. Have fun."

And then she ripped one of her earrings out.

"No!" Someone screamed. It sounded like it was him, but he couldn't remember speaking. His legs were moving again. He was getting closer and closer and closer until he crashed right into Ladybug. They stumbled, but he grabbed one of her arms and dragged her forward. Reverser screeched behind him, following closely. He ran as fast as he could, but he'd never been very athletic. Still, he'd had a head start, surprise keeping Marc back for just a moment.

Ladybug was glowing, her costume slowly peeling away to reveal her normal outfit underneath. The person behind the mask. Nathan didn't look. He wouldn't, couldn't, do that to her. He turned a street corner and immediately ducked into an alley. A black and white blur flew past the entrance just a moment later. He sighed in relief, leaning against the wall of the building they were now hiding behind. That had been far too close.

"Let go of me!" The words were harsh and he flinched, releasing Ladybug's arm. He didn't want to look at her- no, that wasn't quite true. He wanted to know who she was, but he refused to look. Not like this. Not because of this. Her voice was already starting to sound more and more familiar, but he still couldn't quite place it- and he wouldn't if he could help it.

"Please," he said softly, as if any loud sound would reveal them. "Put your Miraculous back in."

She scoffed, the sound harsh and grating.

"Why? So I can work and work and almost get myself killed every day?" Ladybug laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "No. No, I don't care what happens anymore! I'm done! So if you will excuse me, I'm going to throw them into the river."

Nathan's eyes widened and he turned around, reaching out as she started to move. He froze, half out of realization of what he'd just done, half because he recognized her. Only one side of her mask was gone, but the clear side of her face was unmistakable. As he watched, she tore out her other earring, and her disguise fell away completely.

"Marinette?" He whispered. How could that... How was that possible? She glared at him, baring her teeth in what could have been a smile.

"And you're Nathaniel, or Nathan, or whatever name it was that you prefer. We know each other's names, good for us! Now leave me alone." She turned and started walking away, heading back towards the river. He raced after her, not quite sure what he was planning to do.

A small, red and black thing was floating over Marinette's shoulder, making panicked motions. She waved the thing away, nearly smacking it out of the air. Nathan caught up to her quickly. She wasn't even trying to avoid him.

"W-wait! You can't throw just them away! You have to save the city! You have to stop Hawkmoth. Save Marc." Bring back the people who had died believing that she would save them.

"No, I really don't. And I won't."

"Marinette!" The red creature yelled, voice high pitched and tinny. "You can't! Whatever he did to you, fight it!"

She ignored them both. They were getting closer to the bridge. Closer to the end of Ladybug. Panic buzzed through his chest, racing down his limbs. His hands were shaking.

"If you don't want them, just-" Just what? He couldn't let her throw them away, but what could he do? What could he say? He doubted there was someone else that could take over for her until this was fixed, and there wasn't anyone he would trust with them. So if there wasn't anyone else…

"Give them to me!" he blurted. Both Marinette and the red creature froze and looked at him, one indifferent, the other scared. Marinette looked over to the bridge, still a street away, then back at him.

"Fine," she finally said. "One garbage is the same as any other, I guess. Some are just closer."

And with that, she tossed him her earrings and stalked away. The creature stayed behind, looking lost and heartbroken. Nathaniel stared after Marinette, watching in shock until she disappeared. The creature was quiet, violet tears slowly gathering in its eyes. He looked down at the earrings in his hands, then up at the creature hovering next to him. Just as he was about to speak, it turned to face him, fear and hurt swirling in its eyes.

"You... you can't tell anyone!" Its voice was even higher pitched now, tinged by terror. Why was it so afraid? "You can't!

"I-" the sound barely left his mouth before it cut him off, zipping around wildly.

"This is bad, no, no no-" it glared at him, more cute than threatening. "Promise you won't say anything!"

"I- I promise?" he managed to say, breathing a sigh of relief as the creature turned away from him, staring off into the distance to where Marinette had disappeared. "Is Marinette... is she really Ladybug?"

The thing looked at him with its big, tear filled eyes. "She is, but... whatever Reverser did to her, it... changed her."

"...Reversed her?"

It nodded.

"But if she doesn't stop him... there won't be a Ladybug anymore. Or, there will, but... it won't be her." It seemed genuinely sad. Heartbroken.

His grip tightened on the earrings.

"What about Chat Noir? Where is he? Can't he help?"

The creature shook its - her? - head. "I don't know. We ran into him a while back, but he went to go help some people somewhere along the way. They got hit too."

Nathaniel ran his free hand through his hair. Without Ladybug they couldn't reverse (ha) any of the damage, but if they found Chat Noir maybe they could still do something. They just needed to find him and come up with a plan. It couldn't be too difficult to-

"Wait, what are you?" he demanded. How had he forgotten to ask? The creature shook its head quickly.

"I can't say. But... my name is Tikki. I... help Marinette. That's all." She looked down at his hand, the one with the Miraculous. "We- I need to put those somewhere safe! Master Fu-" she cut herself off, shock and horror at what she'd said dancing in her eyes as she covered her mouth with a tiny hand. He shook his head. She wasn't going to tell him anything useful. That stung, but he could understand. He probably wouldn't trust anyone either.

Shouting sounded in the distance and his head snapped up in the direction they seemed to come from. It didn't sound too far off. One was clearly the distorted shrieks of Reverser, but the other sounded normal. It actually sounded kind of like... Chat Noir. He stuffed the earrings into his pocket and took off running. Once again, his legs carried him towards the danger instead of away. It was honestly starting to feel like the theme for today. Tikki followed close behind him, speeding through the air. She rose up to be level with his face, glaring at him.

"What are you doing?! You can't bring the Miraculous anywhere near Hawkmoth's minions!" she yelled. He shook his head sharply.

"Until I can get them back to Marinette- er, Ladybug, I need to know they're safe, so I'm keeping them. Besides, he won't expect me to have... them..." he trailed off, slowing to a halt as he took in the sight before him.

Several people were unconscious on the street, and others were running away. A few had thick, black rings running around their eyes, but most of them seemed okay. The real sight was farther down the street. Chat Noir was standing facing Reverser, his back to Nathaniel. Reverser's face was a mask of pure frustration.

"Give me. Your. Miraculous." he hissed, fists shaking at his sides. Even with the distance separating them, Nathaniel could tell he was angry, but there was also an underlying exhaustion in his posture, a slight waver in his voice. How long had they been fighting? "I don't want this to escalate more than it has, so just give it to me!"

Chat Noir stiffened, his posture tense. It was strange to see, as he was usually loose and relaxed. It didn't fit him, to the point that it was almost disconcerting to see the difference. It was... it was almost the reverse of what he should be. Dread crept down Nathaniel's spine, though he tried to force it away. Just because his posture was off Nathaniel was jumping to conclusions? It wasn't nearly enough to assume he'd been affected. It wasn't enough to think everything was hopeless now, because without either of their heroes, it really was all hopeless, wasn't it?

A shaky laugh resounded down the street, mirth mixed with hatred. It sounded wrong. Twisted. Chat Noir's shoulders were shaking, hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides. His staff had been discarded, laying on the ground a little ways down the street.

"You think," he finally hissed, voice low and dripping with venom, "that I would ever give my Miraculous to you? C'mon, I would think even you would know better, freak."

Nathaniel flinched back, eyes widening. That wasn't right. That wasn't Chat Noir. He swallowed, watching them both closely. Both had gone still, but they were tense, ready to spring at any second. He still hadn't seen Chat Noir's face, and somehow that made everything worse.

"If you won't hand it over willingly, I'll take it-" before Reverser could even finish, Chat Noir had moved. With furious shriek, as enraged as it was inhuman, he launched himself off the ground directly toward Reverser. The villain flung himself to the side, wavering in the air for just a second before he stabilized himself. Chat Noir landed in a graceful crouch, spinning quickly to keep Reverser in his field of view. A snarl twisted his face, eyes clouded with rage.

And just as Nathaniel had been dreading, black rimmed his eyes, just barely visible behind the mask.

"You won't take them. You won't take anything from me, got it? But I'd be happy to give you something. A quick death, for example. Or, it might be quick. I haven't actually gotten to test out Cataclysm on a person yet." Chat Noir tilted his head slowly, almost robotically. "Though, do you really count as a person, Reverser? You don't exactly seem like one to me."

Reverser growled, hurt flashing across his face for a brief moment. Rage quickly overtook pain.

With another inhuman scream, he sent himself and his glider hurtling towards Chat Noir. The twisted hero responded to the scream in kind, screeching the word 'Cataclysm'. The single word had so much hatred packed into it, so much anger, that it sounded just as inhuman as Reverser's did. Even the dark, oozing energy coating his hand seemed light compared to Chat Noir's voice.

The worst part, though, was still his eyes. They were hard, cold and dangerous. In a single second, Nathaniel could see the intent in those eyes. Chat Noir, a hero, someone everyone looked up to, wanted to make Reverser hurt. Wanted to see him dead.

Chat Noir was really going to kill him. He was going to kill Reverser. He was going to kill Marc.

And Nathaniel screamed.

"Stop!" It was less a word and more just a sound, a wail that tore from his throat. His eyes snapped open, though he wasn't sure when he'd closed them, and he froze. He'd drawn the attention of both of them, apparently. Reverser had pulled up, zipping away from Chat Noir. He seemed surprised, and that helped to water down the anger. Chat Noir, however, hissed, snarling at him with the same hatred he'd shown Reverser. And with the destructive power of Cataclysm still bubbling and oozing around his hand.

Crap.

With an angry shout, Chat Noir ran towards him, raising his hand to strike, to kill him. Reverser paused for a moment, then followed after the hero, moving slower than before, which had to be purposeful. Nathaniel knew for a fact that he could move faster than he was right now. Still, that meant Nathaniel had them both heading towards him. He saw them coming, but his legs were frozen, for once opting not to let him run. Though judging from the current theme of his feet carrying him towards problems, it probably wouldn't have helped much anyway.

Seeing Chat Noir's eyes up close was terrible. The pupils were slits, eyes open wide and tinged with madness. Those eyes held no mercy, even if, apparently, the target wasn't Akumatized. Nathaniel stared into that gaze, feeling the cold needles of fear trailing down his back as he realized what was going to happen.

He was going to die.

He was going to be the first victim of Cataclysm, the first to feel what it was like to fall apart. To disintegrate. He was going to die... because Chat Noir was going to kill him.

And then something hit his cheek, yelling, snapping him out of trance. He stumbled back, surprised. And then he ran. Tikki, apparently the one to have broken him from his thoughts, clung to his shoulder. He cupped a hand around her as he turned down a corner, holding her close to his chest. His breath came in short gasps, his lungs heaving. Fear sent his heart into a flurry, pounding a frenzied song in his ears. He'd almost died. He'd almost let himself die. If Tikki hadn't been there... well, he wouldn't be running. He'd be…

He felt sick all over again, bile rising in his throat. He forced it down, focusing all his energy into running.

Where was he even going? Where could he go? He could hear Chat Noir right behind him, and a faint whistle of air from Reverser's glider a little farther back, still allowing Chat Noir to hunt Nathaniel down. Why was Chat Noir even going after him? What was going on?

"Turn left!" Tikki said. He ducked down the alleyway that came up on his left, trusting her judgement. Why, he didn't know, but he had no one else. He had no chance other than to listen and hope for the best. "Right!" He complied.

He began to stumble, but continued to follow the directions she gave. Chat Noir was gaining on him. He was slowing down. He'd managed to draw it out, but he was still going to die. He was going to die. Chloe would be happy, at least. He wondered for a moment, if she would actually be happy if he died here. It was either that, or she wouldn't even care. Probably the latter. For some reason, that actually hurt.

Nathaniel looked around, searching for anything to help him. To save him. There was nothing, just the normal things you'd see on the street. Trees, lampposts, benches, posters... posters. Maybe if he…

He tore one off a wall as he passed it, cursing himself for the plan he'd come up with. Still, it was his only idea. His only chance. He turned into a side street and stopped, trying to stifle his breathing. He gently dumped Tikki into his jacket pocket, hands shaking. And just a second later Chat Noir came around the corner.

Surprise flashed across his face for a moment, replaced almost immediately by cool anger and... glee? Excitement? Was he really so happy about killing him? He reached out a gloved hand, coated in black energy, to touch him, to kill him, and Nathaniel held up the poster. Chat Noir's hand ripped through the paper, and it fell apart, crumbling into black dust, and even that withering away into nothing. Unfortunately, the hand continued forward and slammed into Nathaniel's chest, knocking him to the ground. On the other hand, he wasn't dead. So, all in all, he'd say everything had worked out fine.

He scrambled up from the ground, backing away, trying to catch his breath. Chat Noir was staring in shock at his hand, no longer lit up with dark power. He'd used Cataclysm, but on the poster, not Nathaniel. He continued backing away, flinching as Chat Noir turned his gaze on him, and freezing up completely as Reverser appeared at the mouth of the street, cautious. His exhaustion was clearer, and for a moment that didn't add up in Nathaniel's mind, but then the detail lost importance as impatient rage overtook the tired film over his eyes.

Chat Noir whirled to face Reverser, and this time he seemed more... afraid. Less defiant, less murderous, but still angry. Still hateful. Just... less so. And then Nathaniel caught sight of his ring, the dim lights marking the bare minutes the twisted hero had before reverting into his normal, powerless form. Without Cataclysm, and having left his usual weapon back on that road... he was almost completely defenseless- and in a few minutes, he would be. Judging by the look on Reverser's face, he knew it too.

Before Reverser could even move, Chat Noir turned and ran. Without thinking, Nathaniel followed him. He had nowhere else to go.

His legs were aching and his head was pounding in rhythm with his heart, but he kept going anyway. He was barely able to keep Chat Noir's back in his field of view, but the adrenalin pumping into his system was helping him to push past his usual limit and his exhaustion. He continued trailing after the hero, trying to ignore the increasingly distorted and desperate screams behind him. He could hear the paper planes zipping past. That was one more thing he knew about Marc then: he had terrible aim.

Nathaniel rounded a corner, just barely spotting a black flash entering a door on the right side of the small road. Out of instinct he followed, thoughts filled with static, only acting on the knowledge that he'd followed Chat Noir this far, and closed the door behind him. As soon as he turned into the building, a hand slammed into his chest, knocking him back against the door. The hand shifted to grab his throat, pinning him up against the wall, choking him. He couldn't breathe.

Chat Noir growled, glaring as Nathaniel struggled to remove the hand from his throat and draw a breath, but it was too tight around his throat. He clawed at it, but he couldn't get the hero to let up even a little bit. Thick gloves protected his hands, so Nathaniel's attempts had no effect on him, even as he dug in his nails and tried to pry his hand free.

"This is your fault," Chat Noir hissed. "If you hadn't gotten in the way, he'd be dead and I'd be-"

He cut off as his disguise peeled away, revealing... Adrien. Nathaniel's eyes widened. The hand on his throat disappeared as Adrien hissed, glaring at his ring. Nathaniel gasped, drawing in desperate breaths of air. He edged to the side, quick as he dared without drawing attention, watching Adrien carefully as he moved.

A small, black creature zipped up and away, before Adrien's hand snapped up and his fingers wrapped around the thing. Nathaniel heard a small cry of pain as Adrien tightened his grip, holding the creature close to his chest. It tried to speak, but Adrien shifted his grip to cover its mouth, blocking the sound. Tikki gasped and peered out of his pocket, shaking.

"You aren't going anywhere, Plagg. Ever again." His gaze shot up to Nathaniel, who froze. "And neither are you."

Nathaniel swallowed. If seeing Chat Noir like this, so hateful and wrong, was horrifying, then seeing Adrien like this was a nightmare.

"W-why? What did I do?" he asked, voice wavering slightly. He'd told him to stop, sure, but did that really warrant this kind of response? Adrien narrowed his eyes, and suddenly Nathan wasn't sure if he really wanted the answer.

"You're infected. Diseased. If we don't kill you when we have the chance, you'll infect others." The words were harsh, but they- they weren't really from Adrien, were they? They couldn't be, if Nathaniel understood the way Reverser's powers worked. Adrien didn't mean that. But even still, they stung. And... hadn't that happened, just earlier today? He'd helped corrupt Marc, and now Reverser was terrorizing the city. Now people were dead. Both the cities heroes had been twisted and changed and... wasn't it his fault? Nathan's eyes were stinging.

"And you had the nerve to tell me to stop?" Adrien continued, "To try to keep me from stopping the villain? He's destroying everything, and you," he stalked forward, eyes glinting. Plagg, as the thing was apparently named, was still struggling to get away, but Adrien just tightened his grip, drawing out a pained whimper from the creature. Nathaniel backed away as Adrien continued to approach, back hitting the wall. "You wanted me to stop. To spare his life when he's out there ending others! You're all vile, evil creatures that have no right to live among us." Adrien looked down at the black creature in his hand, still trapped in his grasp. "So we have to get rid of you. All of you. Don't we, Plagg?"

Plagg whimpered as the grip on his small body tightened again, a twisted kind of possessiveness in Adrien's gaze that made Nathaniel's stomach twist. Tikki ducked further into his pocket, and he could practically feel her shaking.

"What about your dad?" he tried. Gabriel Agreste, he'd become the Collector. And it didn't just stop there, did it? "What about your friends?"

"They have to go," Adrien hissed. "All of you do. It doesn't matter who they are. They're still damaged. Still broken. And they still need to be purged. Wiped off the map. That's the only way to ensure that everything will be fixed."

"Is that what Mar- Ladybug would want? She'll try to stop you." She wouldn't, not now, but Adrien hadn't been there to see that. They were partners, maybe that still meant something. Maybe it still mattered, somehow. He doubted it, but it was the last thread he could pull on. As he spoke, Adrien reached into his pocket, pulling out… was that cheese? He removed his fingers from Plagg's face just long enough to shove it down the creature's throat. Adrien tilted his head, focusing back on Nathan as he finished speaking.

"Ladybug? She's supposed to destroy evil. If she tried to defend it..." he smiled sadly. "Well, then she'd be wicked too. I'd have to kill her along with the others. Make sure her Miraculous ends up with someone who really deserves it."

"She does deserve it!" Tikki yelled, darting halfway out of Nathaniel's pocket. "She's one of the best that there's ever been!"

Adrian's gaze focused on her in an instant, his greedy, possessive look only offset by surprise. Plagg stopped struggling against his grip, eyes going wide. Tikki let out a whimper, ducking back into his pocket as Adrien stepped forward, a smile alighting on his lips.

"Well, what's this?" he purred. "I know you aren't her, so how could her Kwami be with you?"

"It's-"

"Did you take it? Or, maybe, she gave it to you?" he tilted his head and leaned to the side, trying to catch sight of Tikki. After a moment he leaned back, staring at Nathaniel. "What were you saying about her stopping me?"

"She will." Nathaniel hesitated. "After I get Tikki back to her." Maybe. Hopefully.

"I'd better get rid of you quickly then."

Without another warning, Adrien lunged. Nathaniel shrieked, and tried to jump to the side. Adrien caught his shoulder, slamming it against the wall. The blow wasn't as forceful as it could have been, but it still hurt. Adrien seemed to be trying to keep a hold on Plagg, who was struggling even more now, without hurting him further. He briefly wondered why Adrien didn't activate his Miraculous, but the thought fell away as Adrien sent another blow his way. He ducked aside, standing up straight again and backing away.

Somehow, he'd managed to switch places with Adrien, finding the other boy blocking the way to the exit. Behind him was the entirety of the building, which seemed deserted. He didn't try to go deeper in. He didn't have any doubts that Adrien would be able to catch him if he tried. He needed a plan, something that would let him escape…

Adrien growled, glaring down at Plagg. It seemed to be more of a hindrance to keep him than it would be to let him go.

"Are you ready yet?" Adrien growled, impatience and anger lacing his voice. He moved his fingers from his face, allowing Plagg to speak.

"Adrien, stop it! You don't-"

"Are you ready?"

Nathaniel missed the response, using the distraction to run. Yes, Adrien was fast. Yes, he'd probably have been caught if he'd ran with the once-hero's full attention on him. But now, with him distracted by Plagg... maybe he had a chance. He hoped he would, at least. That idea was quickly shattered when he heard Adrien shouting something, and a second later footsteps pounded on the floor behind him.

Nathaniel looked over his shoulder, blood freezing in his veins. Adrien, now in his superhero guise, was racing toward him, quickly catching up even though he didn't seem to be trying. How had he evaded him earlier? It was like... Adrien had been toying with him before this, letting him run and tire himself out. The black-clad hero reached for him, though his hands were thankfully clear of any sign of his powers being used.

Nathaniel spun to face him, and drove his fist into Adrien's face. Adrien stumbled back with a cry, whether in pain, surprise, or both Nathaniel didn't know. He turned to run again, taking a single step, but Adrien recovered faster than he'd expected, tackling him to the ground. What was he thinking though, really? Adrien fought almost every day, whether training or the real thing, and Nathaniel... well, he didn't.

Nathaniel tried to push Adrien off of him, twisting around so he laid on his back instead of his stomach, but the hero pinned his arms to the ground with his knees, sitting on his chest. Nathaniel struggled, but Adrien was stronger. He growled, lifting Nathaniel's upper body slightly off the ground, before slamming him back into the tiled floor. Pain burst into his head as it snapped back, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. Stars danced in his eyes, and he heard himself cry out. Adrien did it again, and it took Nathaniel a moment to regain his thoughts, the pain and shock wiping his mind clean. He couldn't think, couldn't even see, with black spots clouding his vision.

He could feel himself being lifted again, but the sound of the impact was no longer there, replaced by a constant, thunderous drumming. Or… was that his heartbeat? The blood screaming in his ears? He could still feel it though, even with the sound stripped away. The sharp, sudden impact that tried to break into his skull. There was a strike to his face. Another. And another.

At this point, he was barely aware of it anymore, the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness just barely out of reach. Maybe it would be better if he just gave in? At least then it wouldn't hurt anymore. And... and then he'd never wake up. Panic seized him, his heart stuttering, static electricity filling his veins. He had to- to… What could he do, really? And… if Adrien got what he wanted, maybe that was for the best too. No, no- he couldn't let himself think like that. He couldn't let this happen so easily. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I would have done this quickly," the voice was distant and the words blurred together. Nathan didn't quite understand the meaning behind them, but he understood the anger. The hate, and the disdain. It was such a familiar feeling, such a familiar edge to the words.

He heard it nearly everyday in Chloe's voice, directed at him, or Marinette, or really anyone that wasn't Adrien. He'd heard it from Marinette earlier. He'd heard it from Marc, even, just a while ago. He heard it from himself, sometimes, in his thoughts, or his own voice when he was alone. Never directed at anyone else, not even Hawkmoth or Chloe. Even with his own anger, it was directed at himself. It was always directed at himself.

He tried to pay attention to what Adrien was saying, it could be important, even if he was going to die, but he felt like he was swimming in a tsunami of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't understand. He knew what the words were, but the meaning escaped him. Why was that? Did the words mean anything at all? They had to, didn't they? Why else would they be spoken?

"But, after that? You deserve this. Slow and painful..."

Pain raked down his arms, and Nathaniel managed a scream- a strangled, guttural sound that echoed in the empty halls. Something was digging into his skin, tearing at his flesh and raking down his bones. The needle sharp things poked through muscle, and it felt like something inside one arm tore, and he felt more than heard a snap. His screams raised in pitch, a high, desperate wail. His throat was burning, his heart battering desperately at his ribs.

The points removed themselves from his arms, but only a second passed before they dug into his shoulders, pushing down through his skin and they kept going, fire and agony bleeding from the contact. They dragged from his shoulders down his arms once again, scraping along bone, sending cast off shards into his skin. His back arched up in response to the pain, and he tried to dislodge the things from him, but they only dug deeper. There were tears on his face, he could feel them streaming down his cheeks. He heard laughter, and wails, and sobs. A little, high pitched voice was yelling, screaming.

The sharp, needle-points returned to his shoulders and tightened their grips and pulled, tearing through his flesh, and what they didn't cut through they tore out of him. He could feel chunks of himself being ripped away.

They scraped at bone again, he could nearly hear it as they chipped at him. They pulled at whatever skin or muscle they could find, tearing through it all. The needles ripped through the skin on his collarbone, trailing along it. Again, and again. Was there anything left besides bone at this point, after the rest of him was torn away?

The needles left him for a moment, and even with them gone it was agony, painful and terrifying in a way that was indescribable, and then- the tips of the points gently alighted on his face, warm liquid pooling on his cheeks from where the needles touched him. Was he still crying? No... no, no, no. Well, yes, he was crying, but this... It was blood. His blood. But he couldn't do anything. He laid there, dazed, pain buzzing through his body, and lightning tearing through him whenever he shifted even slightly. His breath came in stuttering gasps.

For a moment more, the needles simply rested on his face, before they suddenly dug into his cheeks, scratching long lines into his skin, from his cheekbones to his chin. They circled around his eyes, and he tilted his head up slightly, trying to avoid the pain, to keep the points from blinding him, but that was all he could manage to do. The needles ripped into the sides of his head, pulling him up, and now gravity was hurting as well, his limp head speared by the needles. And then they let go. He didn't even hear the crack as his skull hit the floor, but he felt it. He could feel the pain, but what did it mean? He'd forgotten. Everything was too much. What was he even trying to respond to? The pain? The fear? There wasn't a point.

Why was everything underwater?

Something wrapped around his throat, pressing down hard, even as more needles dug into his chest and sliced through his skin. He barely felt it over the agony the rest of his body was feeling, but the pressure on his neck was continuing to increase, crushing him. The grip tightened, and his throat began to join the rest of him in crying out. Slowly, he became aware that his chest was aching as well, for reasons unrelated to the new cuts there, desperately trying to work air into his lungs. He jerked suddenly, his body lighting up with more pain (how had he not found the limit yet?), his chest heaving, but the weight on his neck wouldn't go away. He forced his eyes open, vision spotted and blurry. A figure was above him, black and gold and green swirling together. He tried to push at it, but his arms hurt, and they couldn't move, pinned down. His chest was on fire, lungs burning, tearing themselves apart.

Honestly, it was getting hard to fight it. Hard to resist the cold, dark static that threatened to overtake him.

He felt his thoughts fading, pain numbing into nothingness... And that was better, wasn't it? In the dark, it didn't hurt as much. It wouldn't be as bad, if he gave in. If he just slipped away... he would stop hurting. A cloud of buzzing, blurred static filled his ears, joined by a faint ringing. His thoughts were consumed by dark water, a cool, comforting replacement to the fire that plagued him. He was almost gone...

And then the weight was gone, lifted from both his throat and his stomach- the source of the needles and pain was gone, and air flooded him. He sat in a stupor, the darkness still encroaching on him, but its pull had lessened. Something was wrapped around his arms, irritating them, terrifying him. His body ached. His head was pounding.

Something tapped his cheek, calling out, but he couldn't understand the words. He expected more pain though, and… it never came. That was surprising, but not unwelcome. It didn't really matter, though. Nothing mattered. Not right now.

With that thought firmly in his mind, Nathaniel drifted into unconsciousness.

---

So, that's it for chapter one. I'll put the next one up in a few days, but until then, feel free to let me know what you think!