Gradually falling behind on writing this. I hope I'll be able to get the next chapter out on time. Life is pretty chaotic at the moment. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Five
They didn't know what next to expect. Since Ladybug and Chat Noir's public address, the entirety of Paris seemed to be on alert, waiting nervously, obsessively for the next attack. How often, they wondered, would Hawkmoth unleash his akumas? With the frequency of his previous reign of terror, or was he now intent on a new strategy, one that may favor him better than what had once repeatedly failed him? For three days, the questions of why and how were forgotten as everyone instead demanded, what next? Would he show his face again? Would he remain hidden and voiceless? Would every akuma come paired with a sentimonster? Every news broadcast, every visit to the Internet was showered with anxious chatter. Gabriel and Nathalie found it unbearable.
Hawkmoth's first few attacks had united Paris through the same incredible surge of fear, countless citizens wondering if they would be the fearsome supervillain's next proxy. At first, not all were aware that rapid negative emotional changes made them vulnerable to victimization; they thought they could be overtaken at any given moment, emotional state notwithstanding. It was a period of uncertainty that passed once the pattern had quickly established itself, but still, in the midst of fear for one's own role in the battle between good and supposed evil, an eager trust was rooted deep in their hearts that the superheroes rising out of the shadow of tumult would save them from this looming threat. Those who took courage and optimism quickly let their fear subside in the interims between attacks, and even in the thick of them could rest assured that all damage would be reversed at the end of the day.
Now, however, optimism, where it existed, was flat and lifeless. Little time had passed since Volpina's reappearance, but already Gabriel could tell that the nature of these Parisians' fear was different; it was adulterated by anger, by exasperation, by obstinance. They wouldn't be willing to adapt this time. The sooner this was dealt with, they thought, the better. To them, Hawkmoth and Mayura had been revived from the dead. Their plots in the ground were gaping wide and deep, and the people were anxious to see them filled again, impatient regarding anything that might delay the task.
Adrien had rubbed his chin in thought when Gabriel prompted him to consider how long it would take before Volpina and Conspiracy struck again. "I don't know. They seemed to be after our miraculous, which they can only get ahold of when we're transformed. I wouldn't think they'd wait very long."
"What does Marinette think?"
"She said, 'Depends on how much they're counting on us to lose our minds'," he answered. "She's confused. Since the box was stolen, that has to mean Volpina or Conspiracy know her identity. She thought they would surely come for her earrings, but nobody has."
It was curious indeed. Ladybug's identity had to be compromised, but Marinette admitted that even at school, Lila took no more notice to her than usual. They had even wound up alone for half a minute at one point during the day, but there was no sly remark, no damning threat, not even a glare. Lila was an incredible liar, that was true, but Marinette had always been able to see through the façade. Nothing about Lila seemed out of the ordinary the past couple days. Nothing at all.
"If she doesn't know," Adrien told his father, "then Conspiracy must. The box could not have just vanished into the void. I mean, geez, the guy could turn invisible. He shouldn't have a problem approaching Marinette when she is alone, taking what he needs. But nothing has happened. We don't know if he's waiting for the right moment, we don't know if he somehow came across that box not knowing who it belonged to. We don't know anything."
"How long do they plan to keep up this akuma charade?" Gabriel later wondered, pacing the length of his bathroom. Nathalie spit her toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her brush. It was 7:30 AM and she looked like she hadn't slept a moment the night before. "Lila is smart. She thinks ahead. She would have come up with another explanation if she didn't know this was the lie she would be nursing for a while. Will she be using a different miraculous every time, so she seems like a different akuma? Will Conspiracy use them? Surely, she can't make herself a target every time."
His wife tiredly met his eyes through the mirror and dropped the toothbrush into a cup. "Well, that offers some consolation, doesn't it?" she muttered. "Her deception is nearly infallible so she ought not to fuck with it yet. Fortunate that she'll buy us some time by being predictable." Nathalie's eyelids dropped and she leaned over the countertop. "For now."
But predictability didn't favor them anyway. They took no comfort when Lila struck for a second time, just a few days after her first attack. Gabriel had been at work, struggling to complete his design of the formal jumpsuit and still without a clue how to make the garment seem more cohesive. Halfway across the room, Alain was seated on an armchair, scrolling through his tablet and giving Gabriel a verbal report of how business was running in the office that morning, which he was only half paying attention to.
"Mr. Agreste."
The belt must have been the issue. It wasn't working.
"Uh, sir?"
But without the belt, the jumpsuit looked so bare. Something needed to go there, to break up the texture.
"Mr. Agreste."
"What, Alain?" he growled, not taking his eyes off the screen.
"Sir, I'm receiving an alert of an akuma attack. Should I proceed as usual?"
Gabriel's head snapped up, and his glare landed so sharply on Alain that the younger man went rigid in his seat. "An akuma attack?"
"Looks like it." Alain held out his tablet and pointed to the notification at the top of the screen. "Well, seems like this is going to be a regular thing again. I really thought the man had called it quits." His dark brow was lowered into an aggravated scowl.
"Does it say what the akuma is?" Gabriel asked urgently.
Alain opened the notification to search for more information. "Nothing specified yet."
Gabriel's hands gripped the sides of his screen, tried to quiet the rage of adrenaline flowing through his body. He cleared his throat, he forced his eyes from Alain's casually seated frame back to his work, the jumpsuit now looked to him completely untouchable, a puzzle impossible to decipher.
"Should I continue?"
Gabriel dipped his head and listened to nothing.
Within the next five minutes, there was video of Ladybug and Chat Noir arriving on the scene. Gabriel sank his teeth into his lip when he saw what was going on. Near the Arc de Triomphe, half a dozen cars were levitating through the air in a wide, slow ring, and every minute or so, when one of them reached the circle's peak, it would drop through the air and stop inches from crashing into the ground.
"Oh shit..." Alain swore under his breath, watching the footage himself. "What kind of akuma…?"
That's not an akuma, Gabriel nearly said, but he bit down only harder.
Ladybug and Chat Noir rushed onto the Place Charles de Gaulle. A third figure, dressed familiarly in bright orange, passed under the ring of floating cars and charged them back.
Volpina again.
He shook his head, confused. Whatever she chose to do, it had intention, and he feared what it could be.
Alain had noticed too, "Isn't that-?"
"Yes."
"Her power is-"
"To create illusions. Those cars aren't real."
"Hawkmoth's an imbecile," snorted Alain. "People know who she is. They're gonna stop falling for it soon enough, if they haven't already."
"It wouldn't be such a problem if she didn't show her damn face," Gabriel snarled quietly. "Whatever, her goal must be to just draw them out. Hawkmoth wants the miraculous? He'll need a fight to get them. It doesn't matter who he uses."
Alain watched his boss for a moment, taken aback by the venom in his voice. Then, he lowered his eyes back to the tablet in his lap, loosening and tightening the rings around his fingers nervously.
A fight Volpina was going to get. She fought viciously, swinging her flute like a club, dodging every impending blow and never hesitating to use her fists whenever she was close enough. Gabriel watched his son get struck in the cheek before Lila whirled around and pitched her flute at Ladybug behind her, who only just managed to soften the attack with the interference of her yo-yo.
Gabriel swallowed hard and shut off the screen, unable to watch anymore. He made for the door. "You remain here," he ordered Alain. "Turn that footage off and conduct business as usual. I sure hope not everyone has forgotten how to handle themselves during an akuma attack."
Alain rose from the armchair and drifted towards his desk. "You got it, sir."
Gabriel left him and traveled upstairs. He knocked twice on the door of Nathalie's personal office and entered, finding her seated at her computer just as he expected, her eyes fixed on the broadcast.
"Nathalie."
"What does she want with them?"
"It's going to be okay."
"It'll be okay once it's over with."
He walked towards her, shutting a filing drawer that was left ajar. He stood behind her chair and ran his fingers through her hair, spreading it neatly across her shoulders. All he wanted was to calm her the way she always did him, just by laying his touch on her body. He wanted to feel her fear melt between his fingers, drain out of her fretful blue eyes. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
"She's angry."
"I can tell."
"It's personal."
"How's Anaïs?" he wondered, trying to divert her attention.
"She's…" Nathalie was quiet for a moment. "She's fine. You can bring her here if you want."
"Of course."
He was reluctant to withdraw his hands, but a moment later he had made it down the hall to the nursery and picked Anaïs up from where she laid in her crib, awake and quiet, her eyes floating from spot to spot upon the ceiling.
"Good morning, love," he murmured. She looked at him placidly. For several seconds, Gabriel lingered in the room, holding his daughter against his chest. A long and heavy breath streamed in and out of his lungs.
Outside, it was quiet. If only time could freeze for him now, or better, if he could blink and have all of this trouble pass him by, Anaīs in his arms.
When he returned to Nathalie, she waved her hand and pointed at the screen. In the less than a minute since he had been gone, Volpina's rotating circle of cars had been dispelled.
"There was a flash of light," Nathalie told him. Gabriel handed her the baby. "It seemed to disorient them. And then…"
She trailed off. Gabriel fixed his eyes on the computer screen and saw it, a black shape blinking into existence right in front of a recovering Ladybug and Chat Noir. It's arms - or wings, perhaps more accurately - sliced at the pair and drove them back the way they came. Ladybug tossed her yo-yo forward, attempting to propel herself after Volpina, who had taken off running towards the Arc, but the heroine twisted poorly in the air to avoid the shadow's wing and spiraled into the asphalt
"Conspiracy," Gabriel muttered.
"Raven miraculous holder?"
"Supposedly."
The dark figure lunged for Ladybug on the ground. She rolled away, and as his wing clipped against the asphalt, there was a spray of sparks.
"Are those made of metal?" Nathalie said, pale.
"Adrien said they were like knives."
Gabriel and Nathalie watched in silence as Conspiracy drove them further and further away from the Arc. Nathalie's fingers stroked Anaïs's forehead absent-mindedly, and the baby blinked into her mother's stark expression, her unblinking stare. Gabriel's efforts to calm her didn't appear to be working.
"We should turn it off."
"Please. I can't look away."
He leaned over the desk to grab the mouse.
Nathalie asked, her voice small, "Do you think this is how everyone else used to feel? Watching this?"
Gabriel didn't answer her. He shifted the cursor to the top of the page to close the browser, but paused as the camera panned away from the fight to the top of the Arc. While Conspiracy was locked in battle with the heroes, Volpina had scaled the building, and she wasn't alone as she looked out onto the Plaza.
"No…"
The shot changed, another camera's angle revealing a closer view of the villains. Nadja Chamack narrated, her voice stuttering with surprise, "It-it is! It's H-Hawkmoth!"
"Hawkmoth" flanked Volpina like a proud statue, his smile broad and sly, much like that of the illusionist herself. Silver eyes pierced through the broad daylight, observing the fight below, while hands gloved in gunmetal sat perched at the top of a sheathed rapier. Gabriel wondered with a deal of bitterness if the girl even knew that a blade was meant to hide within the guise of a harmless cane.
"There he is," Gabriel muttered, his fingers slipping away from the mouse.
Nathalie shook her head in disbelief, ignoring the baby's little tugs at an undone button on her flannel.
A moment later, Conspiracy appeared on the rooftop beside them, having left Ladybug and Chat Noir behind. The shot changed back and forth between the heroes on the ground and the villains far above them.
Ladybug shouted, "We know he's not real, Volpina!"
"Am I not?" asked the Hawkmoth illusion, and his voice was like sandpaper on Gabriel's teeth. His fists balled, his face growing hot with anger. Had he any less patience, he would have busted the monitor. "You'll have to prove that."
Chat Noir prepared to charge, but Ladybug held him back. She glared fiercely into the eyes of her old enemy; surely, Gabriel thought, if the illusion were any closer it would evaporate under the force of her determined and outraged stare. Then, she stepped forward and launched her yo-yo into the air, activating her Lucky Charm.
"What is it?" Nadja asked. The camera shifted as it tried to make out the object that had fallen into her hands. It was difficult to make out, the lucky charm being red and spotted, but was small, smaller than her palm.
She observed it for a minute, and Gabriel watched the fire in her face dim. She shook her head. She sighed, then she turned to her partner and whispered in his ear.
Chat Noir hesitated.
He looked away.
Then, slowly, solemnly, he nodded.
The lucky charm clutched in her fist, Ladybug soared away, leaving him in the Plaza by himself.
"I can prove you're just a copycat of the original," Chat Noir said to the Hawkmoth illusion, twirling his baton, "But you'll have to come down here first."
Somehow, Gabriel knew what was about to happen next. He drew away from his wife, from the computer and stood at the window, squinting into the harsh daylight. He scanned the broad azure sky, his breath held, his foot tapping against the hardwood. He cupped his left hand in his right behind his back and sent dull pain shooting through his wrist by the tightness of his grip.
He couldn't explain it when Nathalie prompted him, but he knew, sure as it was blood in his veins that Ladybug was coming here.
"Nathalie," he said quietly, feeling her stare on the back of his head. "It will be okay."
There was no reply to voice her agreement or denial, only the heat of her long stare. She knew as well. She understood.
At last, Nathalie closed the browser, killing the oppressive sounds of helicopter blades and Nadja's commentary on the fight. The next few minutes were filled with silence, broken up by the baby's occasional quiet babbles. Gabriel wanted to apologize for the thought that had crossed Ladybug's mind when that lucky charm landed in her palm. He wanted to kneel at her side and ask forgiveness for wanting what she so greatly feared. Lay his hand on her arm. Take the pain away. Why didn't it ever seem to work when he did it?
A blazing red spot in the sky flung itself into view. Here she comes. They couldn't fight that at least.
They met her in Adrien's room - she had entered through the window Chat Noir left open on his way out. Her reluctance bled like ink through newspaper, surfacing as a darkness in her large blue eyes that only expanded as she saw Gabriel and Nathalie at the door. Nathalie hung back, the baby clutching at the ends of her hair.
Ladybug wordlessly opened her palm, revealing the Lucky Charm to the pair. It was a brooch, butterfly-shaped and the same exact size as the one Gabriel frequently adorned his jackets with.
Nathalie exhaled audibly and met Gabriel's eyes.
"I have my reservations, obviously," Ladybug said, ending the stretch of silence that had possessed them all. "But the Lucky Charm isn't wrong. I'd be lying if I said the idea didn't cross my mind already, but only a sign like this could have swayed me."
She dispelled the brooch in a flash of pink light. In the last year, Ladybug and Chat Noir had lost their time sensitivity, and were capable of remaining transformed for long periods of time after using their powers.
Next, she revealed the butterfly miraculous, and Gabriel's heart lurched at seeing the jewel once again. Only a matter of days had passed since it and the peacock had been placed on the dining room table before his eyes, but only now did the miraculous feel real, did it feel tangible, like he could reach out and close his hand around it and feel its magic pulsing between his fingers. "I have a plan. I need you. We need you." She glanced away, nose wrinkled with a scowl, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I'd say I don't have a choice, but -" Ladybug closed some of the distance between them, traversing Adrien's room. "Gabriel Agreste, this is the miraculous of the butterfly, as I'm sure you're very familiar. You will use it," she added pointedly, "for the greater good."
He plucked it from her grasp. Conflict swirled in his breast as he closed his fist over the jewel. A few days ago, he would have refused, but so much has changed in that short time. He croaked, "Marinette, are you certain about this?"
"Short answer, no." She had stopped near enough that her head was angled up to look into his startled face. "Let's get a move on."
"If you're not certain," Nathalie interjected, "should we really go through with this?"
"Fine - long answer. It's not like Chat Noir is holding off two villains on his own." Ladybug blew at her bangs. "I know this is coming out of nowhere given where we all stood on the matter a few days ago, but this is our chance to dismantle Volpina's lie before she can spin it into something else. She says Hawkmoth is akumatizing her? You'll prove he isn't, and this falls on her shoulders."
"You said you haven't heard anything of Hawkmoth and Mayura in almost two years. You will reveal your own deception as well," Gabriel said.
She shook her head. "No, not if Chat Noir and I don't know that you have had a change of heart."
He understood. His was a different fight, then. Nathalie still looked unconvinced, her gaze a little wild, her lips trembling as though she was trying to speak but didn't know what to say. The excitement stirring quietly in Gabriel's chest could not could not entirely overpower the reservations blooming out of the sympathetic pangs for his love. A great, familiar power pressed into the palm of his hand, yet he felt so useless standing before her with his plain and magicless touch, his undead desire for control administered by something that did not exist alone in him. He wasn't like her. He wasn't strong in his own right. He wasn't so selfless and sacrificing. A surge of guilt produced a stinging pain beneath his skin, and he nearly dropped the miraculous like it was melting into poison, because she deserved his refusal. She deserved his backwards steps from the shadow of the heroine in the room, the fall of his arm around her shoulders, and the sound of his voice saying, "You have the miraculous. Find someone else."
But he didn't move, and he thought bitter things of himself. Ladybug continued, "You are coming to clear your name. You won't bear responsibility for the agenda of these new villains. Whatever this is about, it's going to fall over their heads. Not yours."
He croaked, "Ladybug-"
"If the rest of Paris hasn't forgiven you, then you can disappear again. What matters is cornering Volpina and Conspiracy and exposing their true intentions, which we can't do as long as everyone is convinced of Hawkmoth's puppeteering." She was speaking quickly, in a rush to return to the battle, but she took a breath here and switched her eyes between Gabriel and Nathalie, at their wary expressions. "Look," she murmured, "I'm sorry. I really am. I know it's complicated and this isn't what any of us really want, but it's what we have to do, okay? It's not permanent."
For some reason, that sentence grieved him.
Ladybug backed away towards the window, spinning her yo-yo. "Transform and meet us after ten minutes. I know that will seem like forever with everything that's going on, but we cannot have people suspecting we're working with you. Take your time. And make your intentions clear."
"Ladybug."
She paused, huffing.
Gabriel spoke truthfully. "I'm honored."
The heroine nodded and swung away.
A moment passed of silence, and then Nathalie entered further into the room, her steps careful, like the floor was made of ice. Gabriel fixed his eyes on his daughter, fearful of what Nathalie's countenance had to say of him.
His thumb ran against the edges of the miraculous still in his hand. He whispered her name.
"Oh, don't bother," she said, and Gabriel could not contain the sigh of relief that flooded out of him when he glanced and saw the hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm not unreasonable. At least I hope I'm not. What Marinette says makes plenty of sense."
"I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to apologize for." He wasn't sure he believed her, but he did not argue. "The lucky charm has spoken after all. Paris needs you."
"If it needed you one day, would you answer the call?"
The sad glisten in her eye as she turned her head served as her reply.
"What can I do for you, Nathalie?"
"Do exactly as Ladybug tells you to do," she murmured, looking out the open window, "and hope it's enough to put an end to this. An end that's good for all of us." She kissed Anaīs's forehead, who's round little face stretched into a smile. Nathalie's eyes landed on his hand, on the miraculous. "Well, what are you waiting for? I know you're dying to see him."
Gabriel shut his eyes and sighed. Here we go.
The miraculous pinned to his shirt, a soft purple glow radiated from its jeweled center. The long narrow wings protruding from the brooch vanished as a small sphere of light ignited between him and Nathalie. The baby's eyes went wide. She squirmed in her mother's grasp. And then a lavender kwami floated before them, his eyes darting between the familiar faces of the pair watching him.
Gabriel's chest tightened.
"Master?"
"Nooroo."
The kwami flinched as Gabriel held out his hand, but a moment later, his bewildered expression softened, and he slowly placed himself in his old holder's palm.
"A lot has changed..." Gabriel murmured sheepishly.
Nooroo blinked. "You have a child."
Nathalie smiled and brought Anaïs closer. The baby reached out and brushed her finger against Nooroo's wing. A surge of joy flooded Gabriel's veins, her joy. His free hand clasped the miraculous, felt it pulsing as it detected his daughter's emotion. His throat closed. Tears sprung to his eyes. It had been so long since he'd felt anything like this. He'd forgotten what it was like to be so close, to feel others almost as he could feel himself. "She likes you," he told Nooroo, who smiled at the little girl.
Then, turning his eyes back to Gabriel and Nathalie, he said solemnly, "You two are scared. What's going on? Why am I here with you?"
He explained everything, as briefly as he could. Nooroo was alarmed to hear that all the miraculous in Marinette's possession but his and the peacock had been stolen, but the expression that affected his countenance when he was told that Gabriel was aid the heroes as Hawkmoth was unreadable. Gabriel knew he had been severe and even cruel with the creature in the past. As much as he had hoped to have the butterfly's power back in his grasp, as much as that deep, quiet, massive piece of him had missed Nooroo's companionship, he had never given proper thought to how Nooroo would feel to come face to face with his old master, who had been so unkind, whose eventual apology was feeble and shrouded in pain for other people he hadn't cared for enough. Gabriel found himself very near tears despite his efforts to stifle them. It was all rushing at him like wind at his back: the guilt, the horror at himself that maybe should have snuffed that want of his for good.
"I'm sorry, Nooroo," Gabriel said, when he had finished the story, "I know you would prefer never to work with me again. But Ladybug said it's only a temporary arrangement."
The kwami was silent for a moment and rose out his palm. To Gabriel's surprise, he replied, "Well, that's a shame. I always thought you would make a good hero."
Gabriel wiped his eyes.
"They'll be anticipating you soon," Nathalie said quietly.
"Master?"
"Yes, Nooroo?"
The kwami tilted his head. "You don't have to say 'Dark', you know."
Gabriel smiled. He took a step away from Nathalie and commanded, "Nooroo, wings rise!"
He remembered this. He remembered how the magic felt, enveloping his form and piercing through his skin to charge his very blood with its power. He wondered now how he'd ever gotten used to it. The light traveled cool and fast up his body, from his feet to his head, and in the space of a few racing heart beats, Hawkmoth had appeared in his son's bedroom after a twenty-two month disappearance. Like it was nothing. Like he'd never been gone.
Nathalie's cheeks ballooned and released a quivering breath. Big and glossy eyes took in the sight of him, his violet suit and extra few inches of height, the gleam of his dark silver mask under the high summer light reaching through the windows. She wouldn't meet his gaze, not even when he called her name. She seemed overwhelmed. Her uncertainty slid under his skin; doubt had always felt foreign, like pins and needles, something that could never be brushed away.
The baby cooed. She looked amazed by the figure standing in front of her. Nathalie blinked down at her daughter.
"That's still him," she told her, "That's still your daddy."
She walked over and placed Anaïs in Hawkmoth's arms. The baby extended her arm and tried to reach for Hawkmoth's chin. Her eyes glittered. He gave her his index finger to grasp onto instead. A kiss between the eyes made her smile - he hadn't seen her smile much at all, and it filled him with warmth and love.
"She looks even tinier." Nathalie sighed. "Not a bad first impression."
"The best anyone's ever had." He curled his finger beneath the baby's grasp, peering at his wife curiously. "What did you think when you saw me transform for the first time?" he wondered.
"That this was going to be a big problem for me."
They stood in each other's company for a minute longer before Hawkmoth reluctantly passed Anaīs back to her mother. Cane clutched tightly in his hand, he approached the open window, eyes sweeping the surroundings of the house, imagining that somewhere out there, he was needed, that a pair of heroes would become a trio, if only for a day, for a few minutes. A few minutes, he thought. Suddenly all his hope felt foolish. Who on earth could forgive a hundred sins after a mere moment of goodness? Ladybug's instruction of ten minutes had passed, but he waited at the window, afraid.
"They're waiting for you," Nathalie said behind him.
He asked, "You'll be okay here?"
"Of course."
"Are you sure?"
"Gabriel," she murmured. "Just go."
And he did.
Sometimes, he had dreams of flying through the air, the wind whistling in his ears as he dropped from one rooftop to the next. Gabriel had few chances to leave the lair those years ago; being able to use his power from hiding allowed him to avoid risking his identity in a physical confrontation with Ladybug and Chat Noir. But while many of his memories were filled with the sharp angled light cutting through that great and dark room, with the companionship of white-winged butterflies to delicately curb his solitude, every now and then, his dreams would remind him of the power he expressed through his enhanced physical capabilities. A series of leaps and bounds, the drop of his heart through his chest while he fell, the height, the fury, the momentum, he remembered it all. These sensations were crisp in his head even through the whirl of fear that usually consumed these dreams, fear for the partner whose need for rescue was what often drew him out of hiding. To this day, he would awaken in the middle of the night and reach for her beside him, to ensure that she was there, that she wasn't still trapped in his mind, weak and needing him.
This time, outside of him, it was the city that was in need. Hawkmoth flew towards the Arc de Triomphe, trying to keep his gaze fixed ahead. He didn't know if there were any Parisians seeing him now, but he tried not to imagine their reactions, attempting to shut out any surge of emotion that might register through his miraculous.
When he arrived, he remained unseen, choosing first to gage the current situation. The fight had moved off the Plaza, the illusion Hawkmoth had disappeared - whether Volpina had managed to maintain the lie of his reality or if he had been visibly destroyed, he couldn't know yet - and in its stead where a crowd of Volpina replicas, running about and taunting Ladybug and Chat Noir. Conspiracy, meanwhile, flickered around them. Hawkmoth's heart skipped each time the raven miraculous holder swung his wings at the heroes. They were usually always able to avoid the deadliest blows by any threat, but he was terrified nonetheless, especially for his son, who didn't hesitate protecting his partner when there was no other choice.
He couldn't make an akuma. He had no butterflies anyway, but more importantly, he had to prove he was there to fight on the side of Ladybug and Chat Noir, and to express that through his own actions. Hawkmoth took a deep breath. He bent his knees, prepared to leap into the fray…
The tip of a black blade appeared out of the corner of his eye. Hawkmoth gasped and spun around, knocking himself into the brick chimney he had been standing behind. He unsheathed his rapier half-way, but the blade drew closer to his throat, and his hand froze.
Conspiracy glowered at him, black eyes flicking up and down. The feathers on his right wing rustled as though they were real, and Hawkmoth tightened his jaw at the sound of them scraping together. One of them so nearly grazed his face that Hawkmoth shut his eyes, held his breath, but nothing happened, and he blinked at the man, whose stare looked to be prying deep into his own, completely inscrutable.
It was a long moment before either of them spoke. Hawkmoth wanted to steal a glance behind the chimney, to scan the scene of the fight, to ensure that it really was Conspiracy standing in front of him, and not another illusion, but the cacophony of a hundred screeching Volpinas told him that this figure was indeed real.
At last, Conspiracy moved. He dragged his wing down the brick, just an inch past Hawkmoth's ear. Dust and stone tumbled from its surface onto the ground.
He said, "Hand it over. And I'll let you head back into retirement, old man."
According to Ladybug, Conspiracy's miraculous was a bracelet fastened around his right wrist, but his arm was hidden by the metal wing still scoring the brick against his back.
Hawkmoth tried to remain steadfast. Scowling into the other man's face, he snarled, "Care to tell me what you plan to do with it?"
"Don't worry. It will be in good hands."
Holding Conspiracy's gaze, Hawkmoth released the hilt of the rapier and let it slide all the way back into its sheath. Slowly, very slowly, he placed his hand back at his side, tried to loosen his tense shoulders. If Hawkmoth appeared to relax, perhaps Conspiracy would as well.
Just so, the wing drew away by an inch, and then another. The feathers began to lay flat against his arm, and Hawkmoth reached to clasp his miraculous. Conspiracy's stern facial expression shifted under his mask - a look of surprise perhaps, though it was hard to tell when his eyes were so dark and unreadable. Certain he could avoid a deadly strike by the wing, Hawkmoth suddenly lifted his cane to strike the man across the face. Conspiracy jerked back, the blow barely clipping the tip of the beak-like shape of his mask.
Hawkmoth took advantage of the extra bit of space that had opened between them. He dove to the side, sliding out from the hiding provided by the chimney. Conspiracy lunged towards him, and Hawkmoth sprung back to avoid the slice of his wing -
Only to plunge off the side of the building.
He landed favorably thanks to his enhanced agility. When he glanced up, he saw Conspiracy diving towards him, wings outstretched. Hawkmoth rolled away, and his opponent's feathers broke into the concrete sidewalk with an unpleasant screech of metal and stone. He stumbled into the street and gasped as he backed into something, whirling around just fast enough to watch one of the still numerous Volpina illusions disappear. Through the dwindling crowd, he spotted his son, slashing his baton through three false Volpinas. He was panting for breath, blonde hair drenched with sweat under the summer heat, green eyes wild with anger.
Then, Chat Noir saw him, his body tensing and his heavy breath slowing to a momentary pause. Hawkmoth frozen, just a second, and blinked at him.
It occurred to him that if his son could see him, then the city could as well. Hawkmoth lifted his gaze to the sky and sucked in his breath upon catching the helicopter in flight, from which the fight was being filmed and broadcasted to the anxious city.
He wondered if Nathalie was watching.
Conspiracy was dislodging his wings from the earth. If people were to know that he was the real Hawkmoth, that he had come to fight on the side of good, then he would need to make a show of it.
He charged Conspiracy, pulling out his rapier and casting the sheath into the street. He lifted the blade over his head, intent on driving his opponent into the wall of the building behind him. Conspiracy gracefully evaded all blows, and Hawkmoth dodged his in turn. They fought in a circle, and every now and then, Hawkmoth was in the position to notice that the Volpinas were quickly vanishing. He heard his son shout "Cataclysm!", and a moment later, the ripping of the earth. Hawkmoth ducked under a blow that could have decapitated him, and watched as a jagged crack in the asphalt burst open under the feet of the remaining Volpinas destroying what was left of them.
"Hawkmoth!" cried Ladybug, and she and Chat Noir started running to join him in combat against Conspiracy, but they never reached him.
Hawkmoth's rapier passed through the air and clattered on the sidewalk. He'd missed. Again. Even with all his strength, he was tiring. He should have found a way to create an akuma after all. That would have proven that Volpina had been lying to everyone. He cursed himself and spit out the sweat that had built on his upper lip. In the street, he saw Volpina, the real Volpina descend from the sky and intercept the heroes on their way to his side.
He leaped to his feet and backed away, putting a considerable bit of distance between himself and Conspiracy. The raven miraculous holder held his wings out to his side, his breath equally labored, his skin flushed where it was visible. He stood a couple meters from a store-front window, a building clearly abandoned when the battle had migrated to the area. Hawkmoth narrowed his eyes, squinting into the glare of sunlight on the glass. There had to be a way to pin down Conspiracy.
Scraping his shoe against the asphalt, he took a deep breath.
He ignored his wariness of those frightful metal wings.
He ran.
Indeed, he would make a show of it.
Conspiracy had backed away several paces and begun to lift his arms to defend himself, but Hawkmoth dove lower than he anticipated and managed to grapple the man around his waist, sending them both crashing through the store-front window. In the same moment the glass split apart, a loud, piercing bird-like screech rippled through the air at such an unbearable pitch that Hawkmoth's head split with pain. They landed on the floor of the building on a bed of shattered glass. The screech reverberated through his mind like it had a life of its own, trying to tear it apart. Hawkmoth felt movement, and then he realized his arms were collapsing over empty air. His vision wasn't clear. He was dizzied by the noise, his surroundings tilting back and forth.
After a moment, as the vicious echoes began to quiet, Hawkmoth could see clearly enough to know that Conspiracy had vanished. His hand felt for his miraculous, just to make sure it was there.
He pushed himself against a shelf. The thick, magical fabric of his suit prevented the shattered glass from ripping into his skin, but he felt weak. What was that scream? Hawkmoth had never heard anything like it. He wasn't even sure if it was real.
The door swung open a moment later and then slammed closed. Footsteps crackled against the shards of glass on the tile. Hawkmoth tried to clear his vision, blink the rest of the confusion out of his eyes.
Conspiracy?
They paused in the middle of the room, shadow stretching towards Hawkmoth, whose limbs felt numb and useless.
It wasn't Conspiracy.
This newcomer didn't look like a typical miraculous holder. A thick, floor-length cloak shrouded their body in violet, several shades darker than Hawkmoth's suit and embroidered at the edges with silver thread. A deep hood concealed their head and darkened the look of their mask, which was also silver and covered their entire face. Their mouth was not visible, nor were their eyes, which Hawkmoth could only imagine were glaring at him through the slits in the mask, too narrow to see through unless one stood nose to nose with them. The wind tugged at their cloak, and where it parted, Gabriel could only see a glimpse of dark clothes underneath.
A belt of sorts was tied loosely around their waist, hanging lopsided. Numerous small bottles adorned it, one of which, containing a black liquid, like ink, was gripped in their large gloved hand. Before Hawkmoth had the chance to react, the stranger lifted the bottle to their face, and in a deep, muffled voice whispered something under their breath.
The bottle shattered, and its glass joined the mess that had been made of the window. But the inky liquid didn't fall. It swirled around the stranger's fingers and began to bubble, much like the right hand of Chat Noir whenever he activated his power. Hawkmoth's eyes went wide and he held the shelf, trying to rise to his feet as quickly as he could. His ears still rang, the earth swayed. He planted his blade on the ground to steady himself.
The stranger outstretched their fingers, and the bubbling intensified. Hawkmoth felt a burning sensation on his chest, and when he felt for his miraculous, he pulled his hand away and hissed in pain. The brooch was hot, like iron over a flame. He blinked down to his chest, and yelped when he saw that the miraculous was shrouded in black liquid, just like the cloaked figure's hand. Small dark bubbles radiated from its center.
What's going on?
The stranger twisted their hand, and the sizzling dark energy burst into a cloud of darkness. Hawkmoth fell to his knees as the magic flared into his miraculous, a white-hot agony stabbing into his chest. The heat engulfed his entire body, and then his vision blackened.
But then, a moment later, it cleared.
Hawkmoth panted heavily, the pain ebbing away. He glanced at his chest to find his miraculous intact, apparently the same as it had been a minute before. He snapped his head up to assess the cloaked figure. Their hand remained outstretched, but there was no longer any magic bubbling around the fingers. Shattered glass like a spill of crushed ice lay scattered at their feet, but the inky black contents were nowhere to be seen.
"What?" they whispered. Their mask concealed their expression, but by the tone of the quiet voice, they seemed confused.
Hawkmoth rose to his feet, lifting his rapier, prepared to charge.
The cloaked figure snapped their fingers and took out another bottle. Another whisper, and Hawkmoth halted as a flash of light encompassed them. When it cleared, they had vanished.
The battle ended a minute later, when Conspiracy, who had vanished after the crash through the window to fight by Volpina's side, whispered in the girl's ear and led her away. Ladybug and Chat Noir rushed to Hawkmoth, who couldn't begin to explain what had just happened. Ladybug glanced at the helicopter and shooed Hawkmoth in the opposite direction. They'd meet again in a few minutes, out of view.
All three of them detransformed and collapsed upon reaching the house, exhausted, bewildered. Adrien raised his head to stare at his father. His green eyes were full of questions, and Gabriel knew he'd struggle to provide any answer requested from him. From the top of the stairs, Nathalie watched them, hands shaking, eyes vacant. All Gabriel could feel was her fear, like a bundle of thorns on his tongue, like a river of ice cascading slow and painful in his blood.