Meanwhile... At Alya's house

"Whatever security crap you had on your blog isn't doing much to actually protect it. All you have is a password and a security question, not even two-step authentication," Kyle swung himself in the computer chair to face Alya, who was standing nearby cross-armed. "That's basically the tech world equivalent to a master lock."

"What kind of comparison is that? A master lock? Seriously? Not even my grandma uses those things anymore!" She protested.

His face stung, and he looked away from her. "I was just saying..."

"Dude, chillax! I was just joking about that! You looked so bugged out back there like I Cartman-style insulted you!"

"Cartman-style? Sheesh, he must not be that liked here despite the fact we've only been here for half a week."

"You're not the only one that hears the Jew jokes in class. I literally sit right behind him. That dude seriously bugs, and I thought Chloé was bad! Imagine if Hawkmoth got to him!"

"He'd be useless, he can't even run a lap without collapsing onto the floor in a pool of sweat. How'd you think he'd run all over Paris trying to fight Ladybug?"

The two then burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter before he then looked back at the computer, which had been switched back to the editing screen. "You could use a Captcha so that while someone could have your username and password, they wouldn't have the correct code."

"Those 'I'm not a robot' things? But all you have to do is write the letters! They're probably just as useless!"

"Not if you make it a calculus problem," almost immediately he whipped out a standard calculus question from the internet and edited it through the security. "The answer's six, if you're wondering."

"Oh my God, you're such a show-off."

The redhead smirked. "I'm quite proud of that."

"But what if you just copy-paste that question? Wouldn't you just automatically get the answer? Just as useless, don't you think?"

"I mean, you could just disable the copy-paste feature. Do you have a window for the blog HTML?"

There was a pause. Kyle sighed. "I really hope you know what that is if you're running a blog."

"I don't use HTML. That's stuff's probably older than a Master lock. I use my own coding," She glanced to Kyle and snickered, "You actually think I didn't pass How to Run a Blog 101?" Alya laughed.

She then pointed to a tab on the side of the window. "You just have to click there to get to it. It's bugged out for some dumb reason."

Right after clicking the tab open and scanning the screen for what felt like more than five minutes, he turned back, broad-eyed. And totally infatuated with it. "How long did it take to write this?"

"Literally a day after Ladybug saved Paris for the first time. I just had to do it so no one else could."

Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

"Remember that time you guys got stuck in Costa Rica with some choir group and almost got killed in the rainforest?" Craig laughed as he put the cup of coffee that he had been chugging down onto the table.

Kenny snickered. "Good fucking times, I even almost got some from one of the girls there."

He then sighed. "I'd rather be there than this hellhole. It's so goddamn boring here. Everyone's so mopey and kind to each other. It's driving me insane."

"What are you talking about?" Token rebutted. "If anything, I got the chance to learn something here because Cartman and Kyle weren't screaming and bitching at each other over some retarded Jew slur he said during lunch!"

"Y-yeah. And the coffee doesn't make me go that hysterical!" Tweek twitched.

"At least you can fuck around as Mysterion and piss off the ladybug chick and her cat sidekick. If anyone should be complaining about whether this place was boring, it should be us," Craig added. And he was sort of right about that. Every villain fight ended in the same situation; idiot with powers fucks around in Paris, Ladybug and Cat Noir fight them, Mysterion punches them around, and they defeat them using cheats and save the day.

He still wished his power was as useful as whatever Lucky Charm and Cataclysm were. Maybe if he gave it a cool sounding name, it would work.

"You think I take that shit seriously?" Kenny snorted. "They're so damn pathetic, even with their fucking powers doing everything for them. They rely too much on whatever Hawkmoth gives them and can't even fight back. Did you see how easy it was to take down Lady WiFi? With a mirror?"

"The Evillustrator guy almost killed us execution-style and locked us in the school. That was actually kind of terrifying," Clyde countered.

"Yeah, but all Stan needed to do was pick the lock and get you guys out."

"He erased the damn roof and almost killed you and Ladybug! And did you forget how he trapped Cat Noir in a box for the entire fight?"

"Whatever, I just wish we had someone capable of being a threat. This Hawk-dude needs to find actual terrorists that can blow up the city if they wanted to, not high schoolers who don't know what they're doing."

"You know how that Marinette chick lives in the bakery?" Craig barged in and changed the topic of the conversation.

He plopped down some money from the pocket of his blue sweatshirt and slid it across, causing a grating sound to come out of the metallic black table. "Buy me some of those cookie things Cartman's shoving down his throat."

"Macaroons?"

"Yeah, whatever. And when you go inside, keep your dick out of your hand so something like Monday doesn't happen again."

The group snorted as Kenny stood from the chair he had gotten comfortable in and strolled casually into the bakery that wasn't even a few steps away. Surely everyone would be spectating what was about to come.

Meanwhile, at the Agreste mansion

Stan stepped out of the limousine and in front of the grand mansion that resembled nothing like an actual house but like a well-maintained fortress from medieval times. Half of South Park could probably fit and live in this damn house!

In front of the house was a set of gates that looked similar to the ones that Dr. Mephesto had guarding his secret laboratory. Speaking of him, what the hell happened to the scientist, anyways? But whatever, what was more important was the fact that soon, Stan was going to be face to face with one of the biggest names of fashion in the world. It wasn't enough to be quick friends with his own son.

He hoped he wouldn't shit bricks do doing so in the process.

The chauffer from before then walked up to the intercom next to the gates and pressed a button. Then, a hidden compartment opened from the wall, and a small security camera popped out.

"You have Adrien?" The woman from behind the camera spoke, completely monotone, which was pretty fucking unsettling. Was this kid raised in a cult?

"Yes, but he's brought a guest and another is coming later. Did Gabriel ever mention any guests coming over?"

She pulled out a tablet from her compartment in the desk and looked over it. "Not from what his schedule mentions, but perhaps he'll permit it only for today."

She then pressed another button, and the gates opened.

The two were led into the main foyer, where white and gray marble etched the walls and large, cylinder lights hung from the top of the ceiling, with eerie red plants. From where he was standing, a large white staircase faced him, below a grand self-portrait featuring Adrien and what looked like his father in black, with completely somber emotion. To be fair, if he was stuck with that guy, he'd probably be the same.

A woman with black and red hair wearing glasses walked towards them. "Mr. Agreste will be here in a moment, but I cannot promise anything. He's not very polite to those he perceives as threats."

Okay, this kid had to live in a cult if everyone who walked in and out were determined to be strangers or not, or if Adrien had to tell his dad what he was doing at least 24 hours in advance. They were a bunch of deranged lunatics.

"Adrien never mentioned any guests coming over today."

A man walked out from the edge of the stairs, striding to the middle until he faced Stan and crossed his arms behind his back. He looked similar to the man from the portrait hanging from the wall. Oh, shit. This was Gabriel Agreste. With the goofy glasses and whatever that haircut was.

"You do remember what I've said about bringing friends over, Adrien. You always have to seek my approval first."

Adrien looked mortified. "Sorry, father."

"Next time, this will not happen. Do you promise?"

He looked away at Adrien and stared dead-straight at Stan. He hoped he wasn't going to rip him a new one for what? Coming over to a friend's house?

"What is your name? I have never seen you around Paris."

"Uh, Stan."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Surname?"

"Marsh."

For a moment, he paused. He then looked over to the women in confusion on what to say, who looked back with a similar expression.

Then, he looked back at Stan and uncrossed his arms. "I apologize for any inconvenience. Please, you are welcome here."

Hotel Le Grand Paris

"I've been standing in this dumb lobby for, like, more than twenty-four hours! Are you guys going to actually do something, or just stand around here like two idiots!" Chloé pouted as she crossed her arms. "This is so boring!"

"Don't you have that redhead bitch to run to instead of whining at us?" Cartman countered.

She scoffed. "Do you actually think I consider Sabrina a friend? Please! She does all of my homework and she's working on both of our projects as we are speaking! All I have to do is dig through my closet and give all of my ugly looking clothes that I get. My daddy tells me that when you make deals, you not only have to get something, but you have to keep the other end satisfied so they don't look for someone else to do business with. That's the business world for you."

"A deal?" Butters parroted back confused.

"What in the actual fuck?" It was rather surprising that Cartman himself would be shocked by whatever Chloé would ever do. Anything she could ever dream of doing, he probably did something ten times worse. She had a lot more to do until she could cook her enemy's parents into chili and make them eat it.

"Whatever, I said it. That's all."

Instead, Cartman slobbered back, "That's actually... kind of impressive."

Then, Butters looked over at the lobby computer that not even forty-eight hours ago, had not so secretly anymore hacked into the Ladyblog and almost killed Kyle, a feat Cartman could only dream of ever accomplishing as much as he hated to admit it

"Maybe we could go to the computer and do something with it!" The blonde then zipped from where the trio had been standing and dropped himself onto the swirly chair parked in front of it.

"That computer almost killed me yesterday! How could any of you ever think of that?" Chloé cried.

"Hey, you wanted us to think of something for you to do," Cartman shrugged and followed Butters's path. He soon then came up with an idea the moment he was already behind the screen and began to quietly snicker. "Dude, go on that school tech site from middle school."

Butters then began typing until he found what Cartman had been looking for. "What d'you need it for?"

The brunette grabbed the mouse out of the blonde's hand and began mousing his way through the plethora of broken files on the computer until he found what he was looking for, the perfect jackpot. "Ha! Look at this! That fucking Jew!"

At first, Chloé looked away with crossed arms, trying not to get herself into whatever the two boys were doing as if she was hundreds of times better than them, but could not resist the urge, and slowly walked up to see a picture of Kyle from sixth grade. Her mouth immediately fell open.

"Oh... my god!" She silently snickered. "What a fashion disaster!"

"His voice didn't even fucking deepen until seventh grade! It was like watching a fourth-grader running around a middle school!" That was true until the summer of seventh grade, when the first day of school, Cartman's number one enemy now towered him enough to pick him up by the collar and throw him. And his voice was much lower than his.

As expected, that greedy Jew did the former.

He quickly snapped a photo of Kyle, dressed in the familiar orange and green coat with that silly green ushanka, with a lei around his neck, and began to post it.

"Eric, what are you doing?" Butters asked.

"Watch and listen, Butters. I'm going to trigger that fucking Jew harder than his mom could ever be, even if it was that time of the month."

"But that's not very nice, Eric. Don't you think you should be a little nicer to Kyle?"

"Ha! What are you, fucking retarded? Even if he gave me all of his Jew gold, I would never kiss his ass! He gets what he deserves, same with that poor bastard!" Cartman jeered. "He's next!"