What the Cat Dragged In

by Kryal

Tony's pretty sure it's written into cosmic law somewhere: superheroes are not supposed be cute. Apparently, no one's told these two. ...He's okay with that.

5. Chapter 5

AN: I have internet! (Having given up on my previous lodgings and decided to shell out cash for the glory of a door that I can close and be alone when I need my introvert time. And, yes, internet so I can keep up on my classes!)

Warning for slightly off-color humor; Clint latched onto a joke and would not let it go.

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What the Cat Dragged In

Chapter Five

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"Someone should go after him."

"Ouch. Point." Clint sighed heavily, rubbing at his face with an expression that suggested he seriously wanted to simply check out of the real world for a while, and cast an irritated look at Fury. "Way to hit the guy's buttons."

The director grimaced. "Whether or not Stark likes it, the fact remains that the longer the three of you are in Paris, the more precarious the situation becomes."

"He knows that," Natasha said, rising from her chair. "Which is why he's angry."

And why you are, she didn't add. Fury and Tony both tended to lash out when they were frustrated. Unfortunately, neither of them were particularly good at recognizing when someone else was doing it. And far too good at hitting each other's buttons with a sledgehammer.

"One last question," Fury said. "Do you have anything for me on the other matter we discussed?"

Natasha hesitated for just a minute, torn. The Seamstress incident had shown that Papillon's akuma could strike very quickly…

But this wasn't a topic they could really discuss while Tony was present – definitely not in his current temper.

Glancing quickly at Clint, she turned back to the tablet, although she didn't sit again. "I think you need to use the magic item angle."

Clint nodded, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Yeah. Play up the fact that the powers aren't really Ladybug's or Chat Noir's. They're from an outside source."

"Technically speaking, so are yours and Captain America's," Fury countered, but there was an undertone of calculation to it.

"Take away my bow, I can always get a new one," Clint countered in turn. "And the serum may have been from an outside source, but you can't take it away from Steve. Think more Thor here – you remember what happened when he first showed up, with the hammer."

Natasha nodded; she hadn't been there for the incident, but she'd read the report over again, when SHIELD's analysts had suggested the Miraculous might be magical items as well. "I sincerely doubt they just happened to find their Miraculous the day Papillon first attacked. It's far more likely that someone gave them the items. Which means they could be taken away again, once Papillon is defeated."

"And so long as Papillon is active, only a fool would pull those two out of Paris. They're needed there." Fury said – and then, with a hint of exasperation, admitted, "Not that there aren't fools in abundance." For a moment, he was silent, his gaze slipping up as though looking at something on the far wall – probably playing through strategies in his mind.

A moment later, he nodded briskly. "I think we can make this work," he said. "If nothing else, the Papillon situation and the limitations on their powers should be enough to convince the powers that be that the situation needs further monitoring before a final decision is made. I'd rather leave your suppositions about their ages out of the picture, but if I have to, I'll bring that in as well; that should give us enough support to at least force a stalemate." He let out a sigh, posture easing for just a moment to betray the level of frustration and fatigue he'd shouldered.

Natasha felt some of the tension ease in her shoulders. Good. Ladybug and Chat Noir had enough on their plates; they didn't need international power mongers trying to manipulate them as well.

That didn't do anything for a completely different sort of tension building in her gut, the longer they delayed. "Sir. If that's all…"

Fury nodded sharply. "Go. Find Stark, and keep him from doing something we'll all regret-"

The window shattered.

Natasha reacted without thinking; diving to the side, she tucked and rolled, letting the momentum of her leap carry her behind the bulk of the couch to escape from the flying shrapnel. She extended her legs before her roll carried her beyond the couch, hitting the ground with her feet and letting her remaining momentum carry her up in a low crouch as her free hand shot behind her, drawing the small handgun she'd kept tucked underneath her light jacket.

Clint had reacted at the same time, and now was in a low crouch in the cover of an overturned easy chair. Meeting his eyes, Natasha nodded shortly, then slipped her free hand into her pocket to pull out a small makeup case. Flicking it open, she angled the mirror to show her the intruder.

…oh, damn.

White and gold, was the first impression. Almost blindingly white articulated plates, the gleam of golden plating beneath. Where each plate met the next, lines of burning purple-white blazed, streaming out from a blazing circle set high on the chestpiece.

The shape was slightly bulkier, the colors different – but it was unmistakably a variant of the Ironman armor.

"I," the figure said in Tony's voice, echoing faintly behind the helmet, "am Peacemonger."

Natasha glanced across that open bit of space to meet Clint's eyes.

"Well, nuts," the archer said.

---

Everything was so simple.

Privatize world peace. It wasn't such a hard concept. Put peace and protection in the hands of the people who actually needed it, rather than letting a bunch of politicians who claimed they spoke for the greater good and grubbed for power any way they could get it go around calling the shots. Nice. Simple. Straightforward.

But it wasn't, was it?

Because the problem wasn't just the politicians. It was the people.

So long as there were a few individuals with the guts and the strength to stand up against evil… in the end, they wouldn't have a choice. Wasn't that what had happened to him, why he'd become Ironman in the end? Because there was a job that needed to be done, and sure as hell no one else was doing it.

Except that that way lay Obadiah Stane. Lay Mayor Bourgeois, who hid what was going on from the people who could have helped, while his daughter went around priming people for possession with casual, petty malice, and then screamed and ran away when the consequences came to call. That way lay Gabriel Agreste, sneering about how Ladybug and Chat Noir should have ended the whole mess already without lifting so much as a finger to help, while his son watched all of his classmates turn into supervillains one by one.

Hell no. The only way peace could really be privatized, was when people didn't have the option of making it someone else's job.

Exactly, Peacemonger, purred Papillon's voice. Of course, to be truly effective, we must ensure that the heroes are no longer available to hide behind, mustn't we…?

---

Arm screaming in protest, Natasha let go of the grappling wire. She hit the road harder than she'd planned; rather than coming down on her feet in a run, she had to drop down to the pavement and roll to absorb the extra momentum, before letting the roll carry her back up onto her feet-

A car swerved, the driver slamming the horn in desperate protest. No time to dodge out of the way; instead, Natasha launched herself up, sliding across the hood of the car. She barely glimpsed the wide-eyed stare of the driver through the windshield before her feet hit the ground on the far side-

She dropped as a pulse of energy and force slammed through the air where she'd been, dimly noting the sound of glass shattering and bricks crumbling, underneath the deep-throated roar she normally associated with welding torches turned to full blast.

"Now that was just plain rude."

Natasha felt a thud shudder through the car behind her as the driver wisely decided to abandon his vehicle and flee on foot, rather than risking getting caught in a supervillain's crossfire. For a moment, she wished she had that sort of option; direct confrontation was generally not her preferred style.

Work with what you have. You have his attention. Hold it!

Her hair was whipping everywhere in the turbulent wind kicked up by the repulsors. Sparing a moment's annoyance, she shoved it back from her face and straightened to her feet. "Rude?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Jumping out the window?" Peacemonger replied incredulously, by all appearances completely oblivious to the screams and chaos quickly rising around them as he hovered over the street, arms crossed over his chest. Nearby, two cars crashed as their drivers attempted to escape through the same space at the same time – luckily, it looked minor, since they hadn't had time to get any speed.

Peacemonger simply uncrossed one arm to shake a metal-armored finger at her. "Seriously. Defenestration is a villain thing, thank you very much. I'm here to help you."

Oh, that doesn't sound ominous at all.

Even so, she almost laughed, because she would have bet good vodka that there was a pout underneath that expressionless helmet. Peacemonger sounded like Tony, which was… more than a little unsettling, to be honest. Although she did note that Peacemonger spoke French – flawless metropolitan French, as though he'd spent his entire life in Paris, rather than the grammatically fluent but distinctly American-flavored French Tony spoke.

But the language didn't make much difference – she knew that distinctive banter-on-the-edge-of-mayhem tone. Relaxing her shoulders, she shifted her weight subtly, keeping her knees soft, so that she would be able to dive in any direction at a moment's notice.

"Help?"

Startled, Natasha glanced to the side, and bit back a stream of curses. A wide-eyed woman with a perfectly done-up face and neatly trimmed red hair that looked like a professional dye job was peering around the edge of a parked car a short distance away, apparently heedless of the potential damage to her expensively understated gray suit. She was holding a microphone, and over her shoulder, a much more casually dressed man was carefully sweeping a heavy-duty video camera over the scene.

Dammit, dammit, dammit! It wasn't that Natasha hadn't expected trouble, not when Peacemonger was a noisy meteor blazing white-hot over the middle of a crowded street in the middle of the evening rush hour – but she'd hoped that by now, people would know to lie low when a supervillain appeared.

Then again – if she didn't miss her guess, this was the woman who'd pushed d'Argencourt into possession – and when he'd transformed in front of her, had made sure her camera recorded it, and tried to stall the man by interviewing him. And done something similar when Digitizer was rampaging. Perhaps Alya wasn't the only reporter who prioritized getting the information of an attack out.

Either way, despite a white face under the professional makeup, the woman smiled sunnily. "Hello! I'm Nadia Chamack, with the evening news, reporting to you live about a new supe- er, special guest here outside the Grand Paris," she quickly corrected, probably guessing that the man in white and gold armor hovering over the street might react badly to being called a supervillain. "Sir, would you like to tell our viewers a bit about yourself?"

Natasha almost slapped herself on the forehead – and then hesitated. This could work. The one thing Tony Stark could never turn down was an audience-

The hairs stood up on the back of her neck as Peacemonger slowly pivoted in the air to face Chamack, his arms spread wide as though in welcome. The pose was pure showman – but the movement was pure predator.

"Me? I am the Peacemonger!" he declared grandly. "Here to bring you world peace, in the only way that really works: by putting it in the hands of private citizens!"

Chamack's face was an interesting study in uneasy confusion, but she gamely nodded. "And h-how will you be doing that, Mister Peacemonger?" she asked, apparently ignoring the way her cameraman's knees were visibly knocking together, even as he held the camera steady. "You said something about helping?"

"Yes." Peacemonger's tone changed suddenly, turning dark and vicious. "And I think I'll begin with you-"

Natasha had burned through most of her grappling line to survive the drop from the hotel window, but she had enough. Releasing the catch, she threw, snarling the end of the line around Peacemonger's gauntlet as he raised his hand to point dramatically at the reporters.

"Run!" she snapped, and yanked on the cord.

She knew better than to try to match strength against strength with Tony's armor, and she doubted Peacemonger's copy was any weaker. But she didn't need strength, just leverage. She'd fought beside Tony, and studied the weaknesses of his equipment in case she ever found herself forced to fight against him.

One particular weakness she'd found: Tony's repulsor boots didn't have much in the way of lateral stability. Repulsors, after all, only had one setting: away.

The sharp pull of the cord threw Peacemonger off-balance – and his legs and feet came out of alignment as human instinct made him stumble in midair. The push from the two boots suddenly no longer coordinated, he began to veer back and forth over the street, the blast of his boots setting off car alarms and setting debris flying as the few people who hadn't already run for their lives screamed and ducked, covering their heads. In the commotion, Natasha saw Chamack's cameraman drag the protesting woman away, hurrying for a nearby alley.

A sudden jerk at her grappling cord warned her in just enough time to quickly loose it; Peacemonger had managed to stabilize his flight and come about, and he was, as expected, Not Amused. The blank mask of the armor was immobile as ever, but that didn't keep the fury from rippling off of him in almost physically tangible waves.

"That," he said, mild and pleasant and dangerous as an angry snake, "wasn't very nice."

"Neither is attacking a civilian," she retorted. "How, exactly, is that supposed to bring world peace?"

Peacemonger huffed as though offended. "I'm astonished you have to ask."

"I'm feeling a bit slow today," she countered dryly, keeping her eyes on Peacemonger but watching her surroundings carefully from the corners. Most of the civilians had cleared out, thank goodness, but Chamack and her cameraman were still out in the open, although Chamack seemed to have gotten with the program and was running as quickly as she could manage on attractive but less than practical high heels-

Peacemonger's hands curled slightly, and Natasha tensed as she heard the whine of power building, acutely aware of the empty car at her back.

"It should be obvious," Peacemonger said archly. "The only real road to peace is to make sure everyone's ready and able to defend it. And the only way to bring peace to the whole world…"

His hand came up.

Natasha hit the pavement and rolled as the blast from Peacemonger's glove emitters slammed against the car where she'd been standing less than a heartbeat earlier. But something was wrong, a blast like that should have sent the vehicle flying, but she hadn't heard a crash-

Fetching up against the side of a building, Natasha quickly glanced over to assess the result of that attack.

Her breath caught.

Gold-white light flashed over the car, coating it in energy until only the shape remained visible. Then the shape changed – and a duplicate of the Peacemonger's armor, identical save for the absence of those glowing lines of power and the center circle of the arc reactor, stood where there had been a car moments before.

Peacemonger gestured shortly – and the armor broke apart, the individual pieces flying straight for Chamack.

Natasha had seen Tony's homing bracelets at work before; the technological brilliance of the trick was mind-boggling, even if the inventor usually peppered any discussion of the technology with copious reference to Empathic Weapons and "I can't help it if my armor loves me so much, I've just got this magnetic personality."

Seeing that technology used as a weapon was hair-raising.

Chamack screamed as the gloves locked into place on her arms, stopping her stumbling run cold as though she'd been brought up short by chains. A second later, the boots locked on, immobilizing her feet, followed by the rest of the arm pieces, the leg pieces, the torso-

The helmet snapped closed over Chamack's face – but although it was slightly muffled, Natasha could still distinctly hear her screaming for help.

The cameraman stumbled away, horror on his face – and then turned on his heel and bolted, dropping his equipment without a moment's hesitation as he sprinted for the cover of an alley.

"…is to make sure that no one has the option of making someone else fight for them," Peacemonger gloated, as another set of armor flew through the air after the fleeing man.

For just a breath, Natasha fought off a shiver. Peacemonger sounded like Tony. He even acted like Tony, if a seriously unhinged version of him.

But if Tony, the man who defined refusing to follow orders, ever heard those words, there would be blood.

"That's not promoting peace," she said flatly, as her eyes flickered over the street, assessing the situation. "It's only widening war."

Damn. She needed to get out of here. If Peacemonger really had the power to transform vehicles into those attack-armors – she needed to find somewhere other than a busy street crammed with people headed out to enjoy the nightlife of Paris, find somewhere quiet with relatively few cars.

Right. At least this wasn't downtown New York. But no cars, in the middle of Paris?

Peacemonger sighed, radiating disappointment. "You don't understand. Everyone hides. They force other people to fight for them – and when they're not the ones in danger, what reason is there for them to end the fighting, to stop poking people with sticks until they lash out again? No. This is the only way. If they won't face the wolves when they're the ones who woke them in the first place, then I'll make them."

Slowly, he turned about to face Natasha.

"Which means I need you to stay out of my way."

"Look out!"

Natasha dodged to the side, just ahead of the duplicate armor's lunge. She kept moving, shifting to keep Peacemonger in her line of vision, and fought down an atavistic chill as the suit turned to face her again. The movement was clumsy, oddly stiff – but still recognizably Ironman's.

Behind the helmet, Chamack was babbling in obvious panic. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry – I can't control what it's doing…!"

Damn.

Natasha gave ground freely, although she kept a wary eye behind her, alert for any attempt to herd her into a trap. "Stay calm," she said firmly, more to quiet the reporter's babbling than anything. She needed to think.

She had several tricks up her sleeve for fighting Ironman's armor, just in case someone ever stole or recreated it, or Ironman himself went off the deep end. But most of them depended on the element of surprise; they'd only work once. Waste them on Peacemonger's puppets, and she'd end up facing the supervillain with no aces up her sleeve.

And most of those tricks weren't exactly gentle on the person inside the armor.

Damn!

Chamack hadn't been transformed. She wasn't mind-controlled. Which meant, based on past attacks, that she was likely to remember every minute of this. If she was injured in the fighting… well, shoot the hostage might be SOP, but it wasn't exactly going to make for good press for the Avengers, and their visit here in Paris was on shaky enough ground as it was. Injuring a reporter was bad press they definitely didn't need.

And… thus far, the Papillon situation had yet to yield any casualties, thanks in large part to the efforts of Ladybug and Chat Noir. If their concerns about Ladybug's Charm not healing any damage inflicted by a third party proved justified… Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely blame themselves for not intervening faster. As might the rest of Paris.

Natasha wasn't going to do that to them if she could avoid it.

Which means I need to get out of here before Peacemonger gets one of those suits on me. I'm not sure why he hasn't tried yet- Not good!

Sudden movement from the corner of her eye forced her to dodge sideways – exactly the direction she didn't want to go, closer to the wall and restricting her movement. The second suit moving to box her in was simply icing on the cake.

"Don't worry," Peacemonger's voice said reassuringly, even though the words themselves weren't reassuring at all. She couldn't see the supervillain from this angle, but even with the glare of the streetlights, she could make out the flashes that meant he was converting more cars into puppet-suits. "When this is all over, you'll thank me. For the time being, however…"

The two suits lunged in unison, not close enough to tangle each other, damn…

Something whistled as it sliced through the air – and an arrow hit the leg joint of the new armor, the ungainly head bursting apart into a fast-hardening polymer that clung to everything it touched. The suit stumbled, knee and ankle joints suddenly frozen and boot glued to the street-

Natasha moved, ducking down under the cover of the armors to keep out of Peacemonger's line of sight, and bolted down the narrow space between two buildings, praying that she hadn't just trapped herself.

She almost had. But a quick scramble up a fire escape, leaping off one of the platforms to kick against the opposing wall, balancing for a precarious moment on the outthrust lintel of an ornate window before swinging down from one of the poles supporting an awning over some kind of restaurant, to the wide-eyed shock of the patrons dining there, shock quickly followed by understanding, and a kind of controlled panic as they all began quickly evacuating to the inside of the diner – good, the one benefit of Papillon's constant attacks was that most of the civilian population of Paris had learned how to get out of the way by now…

And she was clear, although from the growing sound of chaos and panic through the narrow alley behind her, it wouldn't be long before Peacemonger – or his puppets – expanded to this street. But she didn't see any sign of the flying pieces of armor coming after her; apparently they at least had only limited abilities to home in on a target. Perhaps Peacemonger needed a clear line of sight to set them on someone…

Or he doesn't mean to trap me the way he did Chamack, she thought, moving at a brisk stride to the nearest cross-street and taking the turn that would carry her away from Peacemonger for the time being. She wasn't going to be able to take him down without surprise and a plan on her side, which meant that a tactical retreat was in order for the time being. Even if it meant that Peacemonger's army would be growing in the meantime. He seemed focused on civilians, people who don't actively fight for themselves.

God, but this would be a mess when Tony got back to himself. Papillon had a great deal to answer for.

Peacemonger first, she reminded herself, moving down the street with a purpose.

The sound of footsteps running at a measured, ground-eating pace alerted her a second before Clint came up behind her, breathing a little harsher than normal and bow held ready in his hand, although he hadn't strung another arrow yet.

He fell into step with her, eyes scanning the balconies and rooftops. She didn't bother to ask if he'd been followed; Clint was a sniper, he knew to move after he took a shot. And if Peacemonger had been on his heels, he wouldn't have rejoined her.

"Tell me you have a plan," he said bluntly.

Natasha nodded curtly, not taking her eyes off the doorways and dark shadows of alleys between the streetlights. "We need to get into a residential district."

She didn't have to look at Clint to know he grimaced at that. Nor did she blame him. Peacemonger was clearly targeting the general populace of Paris; leading him straight to their homes went against everything the Avengers were supposed to stand for.

But the downtown streets around the Grand Paris were too damn crowded. At least in the more residential areas, most of the people would be out of sight in their homes, and there'd be less cars…

"The twenty-first arrondissement," Clint said suddenly.

Natasha spared half a moment to glance at him, recognizing the district's name. "Where Agreste lives?"

The archer nodded. "Wasn't there a park down the street from him?"

Good thought. Excellent thought; a park would mean cover for them, and less potential victims for Peacemonger to target. And, not insignificantly, it was practically next door to the Collège Françoise Dupont – the school that Adrien and his friends attended. Which meant, if they were lucky, that Ladybug and Chat Noir would be nearby and notice the commotion, if Chamack's earlier broadcast hadn't done the job.

And even if they're not, she thought with a kind of grim amusement, making a quick turn at the next street after checking her mental map of the city, at least if we confront Peacemonger there, we're not likely to be adding much data to Papillon's seach.

The only trick would be reaching it in time. The district wasn't exactly far from the hotel, but it was still a respectable distance that would take a good twenty minutes or more to cross at the pace they were holding. And like Hell was Natasha getting into any sort of vehicle with Peacemonger flying around transforming things. That wouldn't be asking for trouble, it would be handing herself over to it gift-wrapped. So walking it was, and they'd just have to hope that Peacemonger wouldn't cut them off.

He didn't. In fact, they didn't see any sign of pursuit at all. From the increasingly edgy way Clint was scanning the skies around them, Natasha wasn't the only one who found that disturbing.

Lampposts lined the walking paths of the park and illuminated the fountain at the center, but they were smaller, softer lights than the bright lamps lighting the streets, and Natasha and Clint both paused long enough to let their eyes adjust to the changed light levels and to learn the bright areas and the shadows that could work for or against them in a fight before moving deeper in.

It wasn't exactly New York's Central Park; this was a small urban plaza, more open grass than trees, meant for children to run around and couples to sit on benches in the shade.

It would have to do.

"This isn't going to slow him down much," Clint muttered, clearly unhappy as well.

"It's better than nothing," Natasha countered, keeping a close eye on the streets. She hadn't seen the puppet-armors fly after they'd latched on to a victim, although she doubted Peacemonger would have neglected that feature. Tony certainly wouldn't have. But given that Peacemonger's stated goal was to keep people from running and hiding from conflict, the omission could have been deliberate. It was a lot harder to run away if you couldn't fly.

How big will his army be by the time he gets here? He would come after them. The fact that Peacemonger had immediately gone after the two of them suggested that he – or Papillon – had identified the remaining Avengers in the city as primary targets. But if he'd been directly focused on them, he would have come after them by now. That they hadn't seen him suggested he was taking his time – probably transforming people as he went.

Hopefully the people of Paris had seen what was going on and gotten off the streets. She and Clint had done their best to encourage that, when the simple sight of two grim-eyed people, one with a bow in hand, walking purposefully down the road hadn't already sent the civilians running.

Often, it hadn't. There'd been so many attacks that some people seemed to view them as entertainment now. After all, if everything was fixed in the end, where was the harm?

We'll see if they still hold that tune after Peacemonger's dragged them around the city in tin cans…

She grimaced at the thought. Yes, there was a vicious side of her that almost approved. But mostly… the fact that they'd run away sat badly with her. Their job was to handle things like this…

Wait.

"He didn't go after us because we were threats," she said slowly. "He targeted us because we defend people. Sometimes from the consequences of their own actions."

Clint sighed, free hand brushing over the ends of his arrows as though checking his draw. "Like Ladybug and Chat Noir. I'll bet that's what Papillon latched onto; his most effective victims are the ones who start out focused on those two to begin with. Odds are he's going to go looking for them." He glanced at her. "Any idea how we can find them first?"

"Well. It's pawssible that we'll find you."

Natasha turned sharply, heartrate spiking in the half-breath before memory identified the voice, and looked up.

A pair of brightly luminescent cat-eyes gleamed back in the low light that reached to the top of the fountain in the center of the park. Dimly, Natasha was able to make out another, more slender shape next to Chat Noir; in the darkness, the bright red of Ladybug's suit nearly vanished into the shadows.

Natasha relaxed slightly, releasing her grip on the small handgun she'd tucked back underneath her jacket as the pair dropped lightly down to the paving stones of the walkway. She didn't like being surprised on a good day.

Ladybug immediately strode over to meet them, Chat Noir a quiet shadow at her shoulder. "What's going on?"

She had a good poker face, Natasha noted; there was no waver in the brisk, professional voice, and the only hint of worry was a faint furrow in her brow, right at the line of her mask. Chat Noir's face was similarly controlled and focused – but the metal-tipped end of his belt-tail was flicking restlessly, and his cat-ears were twitching back and forth, as though tracking every sound around him, betraying his unease.

Clint grimaced as he slid a half-drawn arrow back into his quiver, although he kept his hand there, clearly not trusting the momentary quiet any more than Chat Noir did. "Papillon got to Tony," he said bluntly.

"What?" Chat Noir blurted. Ladybug looked equally taken aback, her blue eyes wide. "How?"

Ah. This could be delicate – in more ways than one. "He was… upset by what we learned about the situation with Papillon and the akuma, after the Seamstress's attack yesterday," Natasha said, choosing her words with care. She did not want to say that it was learning that Ladybug and Chat Noir were probably teenagers that had pushed the inventor's temper to its limit, not out loud where any bystander could hear. They didn't know what Papillon could learn from his victims' knowledge; if, somehow, he hadn't learned that detail from Tony, Natasha had no intentions of putting the information out there herself.

But we need to warn them. Papillon may know. And even if he didn't – they need to know that their glamour can be partially circumvented.

It was strange. Nothing about what she saw in their faces and bodies had changed – but her perception had, and it was as though suddenly her eyes were registering what had always been there, but never quite seen. She'd known they were short; now she could see that it wasn't the shortness of compact bodies, but youth, limbs not yet grown to their full length. The hints of baby fat lingering around cheeks, softening the bone structure of the adult's face hiding underneath.

She still couldn't actually venture a guess as to their ages, which was as disconcerting as ever – but now she knew they were dealing with adolescents here, not adults.

Ladybug drew in a bracing breath, and nodded. "Peacemonger, right?" she said. "Ms. Chamack's interview has been playing on the evening news."

Well, at least the reporter had accomplished that much with her recklessness. Natasha nodded. "So far as I was able to tell, Peacemonger's armor has the same capabilities as the Ironman armor." Although she hadn't seen any missiles yet. She was hoping that wouldn't be a problem; after all, Peacemonger explicitly didn't want to kill people, and in general Papillon's victims rarely were deliberately lethal. But she wasn't going to assume the missiles weren't still in reserve, either.

Ladybug winced slightly; Natasha had a feeling the girl had been doing some research herself, after meeting them during the Seamstress battle. But she nodded her understanding nevertheless. "Anything else?"

Natasha couldn't help but grimace. "We need to fight him away from other civilians. And vehicles, if possible. He transformed a car into a suit of armor that he set on Chamack. After that – Chamack is still herself inside it, but the armor is basically Peacemonger's to control, she's just dragged along." And because that hadn't happened until after Chamack was running, it wouldn't have been in the broadcast, so the civilian population wouldn't know to look out for it. Damn.

Ladybug and Chat Noir traded quick glances. "So… we're sort of dealing with a Black Knight take on Rodgercop?" Chat Noir asked, looking almost ruefully amused, although the glint in his eyes and the way gloved and clawed hands curled into fists betrayed that he was deathly serious under the humor.

"With Lady WiFi's cleverness, going by the way he was talking," Ladybug agreed with a wince.

Natasha felt her brows rise slightly. That… was actually a fairly succinct summation of Peacemonger's threat level.

And from what she recalled of the information on those three supervillains… none of them had been an easy fight.

But Ladybug squared her shoulders, chin rising as she turned back to Natasha and Clint. "What about the akuma?" she asked. "Do you have any idea what the talisman would be?"

Oh. Damn. Natasha shot a quick look at Clint, hoping…

He winced, shaking his head. "Shit – sorry. But I was so focused on getting clear, and then lining up a good shot… I didn't even think to look." He looked back at Natasha. "You were the closest. Any ideas?"

She grimaced, trying to think back. Nothing had registered as particularly out of place…

Chat Noir suddenly stiffened, shifting into a fighting stance as his baton extended to the length of a quarterstaff. "I think we're about to get a second look," he said, tone mild and casual as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

All of them fell into battle-ready stances as a meteor of burning purple-white streaked above the trees of the park, and slowed to become Peacemonger, hovering overhead.

"You left in the middle of our discussion," the supervillain mock-complained. "Very bad manners, that."

"You got distracted. Also very bad manners," Natasha countered dryly, as puppet-armors dropped down out of the dark sky into the park – apparently they could fly, although perhaps not in combat. She counted about twenty or thirty – more than she'd hoped, but less than she'd feared, at least-

And then had to pause and take a breath, because she could hear the victims inside the armor. Some had nothing but sobbing echoing under the masks. Others were swearing furiously, or shouting. And more than a few began crying out to Ladybug and Chat Noir, pleading for them to save me!

Chat Noir's ears flattened against his head, and Ladybug winced. But they both held their ground, watching both the swarm and Peacemonger overhead.

Gritting her teeth, Natasha focused on Peacemonger as he drifted down closer to the lights of the park. As she'd suspected, Peacemonger wasn't carrying anything in his hands, and there was nothing she could make out that seemed out-of-place on the armor itself – certainly nothing that looked like anything Tony had been carrying when he'd stormed out of their room, or that he might have picked up on his way to wherever he'd gone to fume. And there was nothing particularly odd about the armor itself, except for those brightly glowing and, so far as she could tell, entirely cosmetic energy-lines tracing back to the purple-white circle where the arc reactor should be…

Oh no.

Natasha caught her breath, and said flatly, "Ladybug. The akuma… I think it might be in the arc reactor."

Clint cursed.

Ladybug glanced quickly over her shoulder; they'd shifted so that the four of them were more or less back-to-back, although Natasha knew that wouldn't last once the fighting started; they all depended too much on movement to stand their ground. "Not good?" she asked.

Natasha gritted her teeth. Peacemonger was waiting; she suspected that Papillon wanted them to know just what a mess this would be. "Firstly, the arc reactor is actually on the inside of the armor," she said flatly. "It's embedded in Tony's chest. We'll have to get past the armor to reach it."

"Embedded in his chest?" Chat Noir yelped, although he – barely – managed to keep his voice down. "Why?"

"Because it's keeping him alive," Clint said darkly. "The arc reactor goes, Tony goes."

Ladybug swallowed audibly. "How much time does he have?" she demanded. "If we destroy it quickly…"

"That's the third problem," Natasha said. She wondered if Papillon realized what he'd done. She wouldn't put it past him; this sort of sadistic choice was exactly in line with his typical modus operandi. "The arc reactor is a reactor. Destroy it, and…"

"Boom," Clint concluded.

Chat Noir's ears had fully flattened against his head. "…this would be a purrfect time to start swearing," he said, a little shakily. "Unfurtunately, I don't think there are any words strong enough."

Ladybug actually breathed a hint of a chuckle at that – but then all of them tensed as Peacemonger drifted down until he was hovering only a few feet above the ground in front of Ladybug.

"You know," Peacemonger said in Tony's most casual voice, "there's really no need for us to be fighting. Like I said, I'm here to help you guys."

"I'm not sure I agree with your definition of helping," Ladybug replied dryly, apparently relaxed. But her yo-yo never stopped spinning.

"These people have a responsibility they've been shirking," Peacemonger insisted. "I'm just keeping them on task, as it were." He sighed dramatically, shrugging. "But if you're going to be stubborn about it…"

And suddenly, Natasha was very busy, as the gathered puppet-armors swarmed all at once.

There were too many to try fighting any one individually. Instead, she concentrated on dodging, staying just ahead of any attempt to tackle or grapple and letting the sheer number and the clumsiness of her opponents work in her favor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chat Noir doing the same thing – only the chaos he left in his wake was practically a weapon all its own, as he went high, springing from shoulderguard to helmet to roll on the ground and bounce back again and leaving behind knots of armored shapes tangled in a mess on the ground.

Bad luck as a tactical weapon, she thought, almost amused.

Nearby, Ladybug had also taken to the high ground, using her yo-yo to slingshot herself out of the thick of things – and not just herself, Natasha realized, as another one of those binding arrows went off in a cluster of armors; Clint must have hitched a ride to get himself positioned out of the fray where he could put his bow to work, while Ladybug dropped back down. In the bouncing about, she'd managed to loop the wire around a group of puppet-armors. A sharp tug, and she managed to use the leverage of her swing to drag them sideways, blocking one path towards where Natasha and Chat Noir were fighting.

All and all, they were doing better than she'd expected. But Peacemonger was hovering overhead. Too late, Natasha saw him point a hand at something on the edge of the park – felt the pulse of energy and had to quickly shield her eyes from the flare of bright light-

A high-pitched scream split the night, and for a moment, everyone simply froze.

Two girls who had apparently been hiding behind the car stared back at them. One, a tiny blonde with wide blue eyes, had clapped both hands over her mouth in horror, apparently realizing a moment too late that screaming was probably the worst thing she could have done. Her friend, a taller girl with long dark hair pulled half over her face and goth-style clothes, simply blinked at the scene in front of her.

"…Robot army," she said slowly, blinking. "I don't think we've seen one of those before…"

The blonde girl squeaked as the car reformed into a pair of armored suits right in front of them – and then, unexpectedly, grabbed the taller girl by the shoulder and shoved her back, using the same motion to haul herself forward until she was between her friend and the armors. "Juleka, run!" she said desperately.

The physical jolt had apparently broken Juleka's shock. "What?" she demanded. "Rose, no! I'm not going to leave you behind-"

"Both of you, go!" Ladybug ordered, and snapped her yo-yo at Peacemonger, trying to draw his attention again.

The repulsor boots roared as Peacemonger rose higher in the air, safely above the arc of the yo-yo, but he neither moved nor reacted beyond that. Natasha couldn't make out any sort of expression beneath the white-on-gold helmet – but she had a feeling that if she could see his face, he would be studying the two girls intently.

Then, against the darkness of the sky – now fully night, stars hidden completely by the haze of the city – she saw the lines of that butterfly mask flare up over the visor of the helmet for a moment.

Peacemonger remained still for a moment longer – and then gestured sharply.

As the armors broke apart, Rose and Juleka both bolted, the taller girl grabbing the tiny blonde's hand and physically pulling her along, using her own longer legs to give her friend that added bit of momentum.

The armor was faster.

For a moment, Ladybug stared as the two new armors rose mechanically from the pavement. Then she whirled, turning a blue-blazing glare on Peacemonger as though she could drag him down out of the sky by sheer willpower alone.

"Let. Them. Go," she snarled.

Peacemonger simply hovered, as seconds ticked by. Then, to Natasha's shock, he nodded. "Agreed," he said…

And the two suits launched from the ground, not towards the park, shooting off into the darkness.

"Wait!" Chat Noir yelped, as Natasha mentally cursed and Ladybug gasped. "What are you…?"

"Well, if we want to talk about bad manners – dragging children onto a battlefield definitely counts, don't you think?" Peacemonger replied, drifting downward again as his army of puppet-suits and their captured victims reformed their ranks.

"Interesting double standards," Natasha replied dryly, narrowing her eyes slightly. She kept her focus on Peacemonger as she spoke – but she watched those ranks out of the corner of her eye.

"Double standards?" Peacemonger mock-recoiled, hands clutching his chest, just below the glowing circle that marked the arc reactor. "I'm perfectly consistent." The playfulness dropped from his voice as he swept a hand out to indicate his captive army. "The people of this city have spent too long hiding behind two overworked heroes, with only the children trying to do anything to actively help. It's time they stepped up and did something about this situation themselves!"

For just a moment, Ladybug blinked. Nearby, Chat Noir looked nearly as taken aback.

Get used to it, Natasha thought, not unsympathetically. If things continued as they were – it wouldn't be long before Papillon's influence reached a critical threshold, where he could use the very resentment generated by his long reign of terror to create still more villains.

Or maybe it simply had never occurred to them that maybe defending all of Paris shouldn't rest entirely on their shoulders.

"But to accomplish that… I need you four to stand down," Peacemonger said, the menace vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Ladybug snorted, her yo-yo whirling in a glowing white circle around her hand. "You don't really expect us to simply step aside and let you do whatever you want, do you?" she retorted. As she spoke, her eyes moved across the park, darting from Peacemonger to the trees around them to the puppet-armor minions to her allies, obviously hunting for the edge that would let her break the impasse.

"Well, I would appreciate it," Peacemonger said, tone dangerously light and playful. "But if you're not buying the idea… Well. We'll just have to do things the hard way, won't we?"

"Watch your backs!"

Natasha whirled at Clint's shout, glimpsed shocked faces suddenly uncovered from the ring of armor-

And then threw herself to the ground and rolled, ducking under the cover of the fountain as a cloud of armor-pieces flew at her.

Oh. Damn, she thought. I should have seen this coming.

The puppet-armor was under Peacemonger's complete control. Why had she assumed that once it locked on, he couldn't release that victim to send the armor after a completely different target?

Which means we may have made a serious tactical error in coming here, she noted grimly, as the thwarted pieces of armor came around for another pass.

Because if Peacemonger didn't need to transform something into armor every time he went after someone, if he could simply recycle armor from his own puppets – then he'd brought all the ammunition he needed with him. And to top it off…

Whirling, Natasha closed her hand around a reaching wrist joint, braced the other against the breastplate – and twisted. Betrayed by its own momentum, the puppet-armor flew headlong into the swarm of metal coming after her. The victim inside yelped; Natasha ignored him; this wasn't exactly the time to be apologetic over a few bruises.

…Peacemonger could use the rest of his forces to harry them, because of course he wasn't the sort to sit back and send his minions after the heroes in small, bite-sized portions.

You know, Tony, Natasha thought, trying to shift to at least get her back against something, only to be forced farther into the open, right now, I really wish you were a little less fond of that blasted Evil Overlord list…

Because there was a helmet coming at her out of the corner of her eye, and boxed in by three armors, she wasn't sure she'd be able to evade in time-

A silver blur smacked the helmet down to clatter on the ground.

"I think your copies could use a language refresher," Chat Noir called cheerfully, with a sunny smile completely at odds with the hard tension in his frame. "Embraces are an act of amour, not of armor. And most certainly not to be pressed on the unwilling!"

He kept the staff whirling, darting back and forth to strike down any free-flying piece of armor that came near the two of them. Natasha let him cover that side of the battle, focusing her efforts on the puppet-suits. With her attention no longer divided, she was able to make some headway, at least enough to glance around to see how her companions were faring.

She couldn't see Clint – but she heard the hiss of an arrow nearby, and the distinctive thwock followed by crackling that meant he'd used another of his glue-arrows to pin down a cluster of the puppet-armors, keeping them out of the fight and rendering the pieces unable to be reused to target someone else.

Or so Natasha hoped, at least. Ladybug, like Chat Noir, was using her yo-yo like a shield, and every piece of armor they knocked aside fell to the ground, seemingly inert. But with her yo-yo occupied, she was effectively caught on the ground; she didn't dare stop the spin long enough to strike out or anchor herself to swing out of the fray. Clint's glue-arrows were effective – but his shots were few and far between, obviously chosen with care; he was picking his shots, trying to make the scant number of the bulky arrows that he had count.

They were holding their own. But it was a delicate balance, and the moment something gave…

Overhead, she caught a flicker of ominous purple. And Peacemonger raised a hand, the repulsor charging as he directed it at Ladybug.

Not good!

The girl saw the blow coming and tried to move out of the way – but it hit her yo-yo shield squarely, knocking it off its spin as both the weight and Ladybug herself went flying. Ladybug hit the ground with her shoulder and turned the fall into a more or less controlled tumble, curling her body to protect her head and neck until she had killed enough momentum to roll back up and onto her feet, shaking her head for a moment in an attempt to clear the dizziness, and quickly recoiled her yo-yo-

Tried to, rather. But it had gone the other direction, and before she could tug the string to bring it back, one of Peacemonger's armors had reached out to grab it.

An arrow exploded against the chestplate – literally exploded, dazzling Natasha's eyes for half a moment and driving the puppet-armor back just long enough for Ladybug to yank the yo-yo out of its reach. But while there had to be magic at play in how quickly the girl snapped the weight back into her hand, it still took a moment, and every free-flying piece of armor was homing in on her in that moment of vulnerability-

Chat Noir came down in the middle of the swarm with a shout, spinning staff shifting from hand-to-hand as he ducked and wove, covering his partner as she reeled her weapon back into her hand. Then Ladybug was in the thick of things with him, lunging low as he went high, the two moving around each other and their weapons with the unthinking ease of countless hours of practice-

Which might be the most telling thing about this whole mess; if they really don't know each other outside the masks, then the only 'practice' they've gotten is during live combat.

Then Natasha lost sight of them for a moment, dodging between two puppets so that they would crash into each other, and then flipping back, using one as a springboard to leap up and land on a third's shoulders, standing there for a moment to scan the battlefield again, with intent this time, because something wasn't right…

Her eyes widened. "Behind you!" she shouted, before her time was up and she sprang backwards, the force of her jump knocking the already unbalanced puppet-armor to the ground the moment before grasping gauntlets latched onto her legs. Landing next to another, she hooked her leg around the back of the joint in the armor at the knee, designed to bend – and kicked, making the puppet stumble forward and into the path of another. She ducked forward with it, using the puppet itself to shield herself from Peacemonger's direct line of sight – thus far, she hadn't seen any of the puppet-armors use repulsors, or any of Ironman's other tricks, and she was hoping that meant that they didn't have them, because otherwise this would go from messy to ugly very quickly.

Nearby, Ladybug and Chat Noir had managed to evade the flying armor pieces that had come up behind them as they fought – but the sneak attack had forced them farther apart. They were each holding their own, but…

None of us are making any headway, Natasha thought, eyes narrowed as she slammed the heel of her hand against the chin of another puppet, toppling the – woman, by the noise she made – over. We need to regroup!

Which meant getting out of here and going to ground, at least for a moment. It would give Peacemonger time to reinforce his army – but the puppets were distractions. If they were going to finish this, they'd need to go straight to the source, not mess around with minions.

Grunting as she threw another armor over her shoulder – that was going to hurt tomorrow; redirecting an entire suit of metal wasn't exactly easy even when they didn't land a glancing blow along the way – Natasha took advantage of the momentary lull in her attackers to glance around, trying to think of a way to signal the other three-

Just in time to see one of the puppet-suits on the ground break apart into flying armor, practically under Ladybug's feet.

Ladybug threw herself back, but the armor pieces were already inside the reach of her yo-yo shield, coming at her point blank-

Chat Noir tackled her, both of them tumbling over the ground just underneath the onslaught.

For the space of an adrenaline-fueled heartbeat, Natasha thought they'd gotten clear. Then Chat Noir yelped as he was dragged upright by the gauntlet locked onto his right arm.

"Oh no you don't!" Ladybug snarled, leaping up to cover her partner's back as Chat Noir gritted his teeth and visibly dug in with his heels, left hand clawing at the armor as he pitted every bit of his slight weight and magically enhanced strength against the pull of the gauntlet. Ladybug abandoned the whirling shield to go on the offensive now, the weight of the yo-yo leaving streaks of light in the air as she snapped it out and in, knocking the bits of armor aside before they came anywhere near her partner.

For a moment, the battlefield stilled again-

Peacemonger, Natasha thought, gritting her teeth and moving to help cover the pair as the energy-lined figure of the transformed Tony came down slightly. Looks like he needs to be able to concentrate to control the armors. If we can get close, get him distracted, we'll have the edge…

Peacemonger held out a hand, and the gauntlet dragged Chat Noir a step forward before the boy gave up on removing the gauntlet and lashed out with his left hand, latching onto a nearby lamp post, metal shrieking as human-sized cat-claws dug in deep.

"Don't worry," Peacemonger said. "Just give me the Miraculous. Then you'll be safe…"

Chat Noir growled. And not a human snarl, but the deep-in-the-chest rumble of a feline who'd just reached the end of his patience. From the startled expression that crossed Ladybug's face underneath the mask, it was a sound she'd never heard her partner make before.

"For your information," Chat Noir bit out, "I volunteered for this." His eyes narrowed. "And I am sick and tired of being kept safe for my own good!"

Shadows twisted, crackling with wild energy as they converged on the catboy.

"Cataclysm," he hissed.

Natasha knew that Tony had chosen his preferred titanium-gold alloy for, among other things, its ability to resist corrosion – mostly on principle, since Tony's suits rarely survived combat (or more commonly, Tony's tinkering) long enough for degradation to become a problem. She doubted that Peacemonger's suit was any less durable.

But in the face of concentrated chaos, that resistance didn't count for much.

The gauntlet on Chat Noir's arm didn't rust so much as it disintegrated, sparking briefly before falling in pieces, many no larger than one of Natasha's trimmed-for-combat fingernails. Chat Noir stumbled backward, almost falling from the sudden loss of resistance, and quickly let go of the lamp post, shaking his hand out as Ladybug caught and steadied him, her face thin-lipped with a mix of fury, concern and relief.

By that point, Natasha was close enough to grab both of them by the shoulder. "Quick," she said sharply. "We need to get out of sight, before he recovers-"

Damn. Too late. Peacemonger was rising higher in the air again, and Natasha didn't need to see his face to feel the absolute fury pulsing off of him…

An arrow hit him squarely in that expressionless faceplate – and exploded into a starburst of blazing, eye-searing white light.

The three of them ran for it, Natasha letting the other two lead as she blinked, trying to clear the bruise-green sunspots from her vision and trusting to her own instincts and spatial awareness to keep her on her feet and moving as they darted out of the park, across the street, and into the shadows of some large building.

The school, she thought, almost laughing – which told her more than enough about her current mental state. But it did make sense. With the number of times Papillon had attacked, Ladybug and Chat Noir probably knew the premises as well as any student.

Assuming that they aren't students here themselves. She hoped not. If they were, then she'd been right, and at best neither of them could be older than fifteen.

Clint joined them a half-heartbeat after they'd come to a stop in a nook formed where the impressive front façade of the school gave way to the plainer side walls; he must have made his own escape as soon as he'd released that arrow. "Everyone in one piece?" he asked, his voice a little clipped in the way that Natasha knew meant I hate staying back when things get ugly, even though he knew that he was most effective as a hidden sniper.

"All in one piece," Chat Noir said cheerfully – and then winced faintly as his ring beeped, one of the paw pads flickering out. "Sorry, my Lady…"

Ladybug had been looking blankly across the alley, her mind clearly racing. At his words, she blinked, looked at the rest of them-

And grinned.

"I know how we can take Peacemonger down," she said.

Natasha looked at her sharply, reading the confidence in that sly smile. "How?"

"It's that armor of his that's the problem, right?" Ladybug looked at Chat Noir. "Go feed your… recharge," she said, stumbling in her words slightly as she quickly modified whatever she'd originally meant to say, her eyes darting over to Natasha and Clint.

Chat Noir blinked – then his eyes widened slightly, before narrowing to a knowing smirk. "Got it," he said.

Ladybug nodded, then hesitated, looking at Natasha. "I need you to go with him, Black Widow," she said, a little more formal but the tone of command unmistakable.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded without saying anything. She recognized the level of trust Ladybug was putting in her, sending her off with Ladybug's partner when he was going to be at his most vulnerable.

"Feed." Implies there's another living thing involved in their transformation, doesn't it? In that case, no wonder they were vigilant about their identities. All personal reasons of safety and privacy aside – the secret would become that much more important if they were protecting something else in the bargain.

"What about you?" Chat Noir asked, tone casual and cat-eyes bright with worry.

Ladybug grinned at him before reaching out and poking him lightly on the tip of the nose. "I'll be getting him in position for you to pounce," she said, and stood up, yo-yo in hand and eyes intent as the roar of repulsors began to draw near. "You're not the only one who can play distraction, chaton."

Then, eyes glittering challenge, she stepped out of their hiding place and leapt into the street to confront the approaching supervillain. "Peacemonger! If you want to play with puppets, look out for the strings!"

And struck.

The red-and-black yo-yo zipped through the air to wrap around the ankle joints of Peacemonger's boots. Startled, the supervillain veered-

Ladybug flicked her wrist, and jumped.

Slingshotted by the rewind of the yo-yo and by Peacemonger's own momentum, she flew through the air, up, over the armored figure – and down, right onto Peacemonger's back.

Clint whistled as Peacemonger whirled and veered, trying to compensate for the unexpected added mass and to respond to his hitchhiker. "She gets pretty… focused when she has a plan in mind, doesn't she?"

"Tell me about it," Chat Noir said, with a sigh that was half-wince, half-amusement, and one hundred percent adoring teenage boy.

"We should get out of here," Natasha reminded him, relieved when Chat Noir shook off his distraction with a quick nod. "Clint…"

"Go," the archer said, arrow already on the string as he risked a glance out at the street, obviously assessing his potential routes. "I'll cover her."

---

Fury is so not paying me enough for this.

Not that any organization would include the sort of pay slot for had to watch a teeny tiny teenage girl play rodeo rider on top of a possessed Tony. Seriously. He didn't think the world was prepared for a junior Tasha. He certainly wasn't.

Eh. Has to qualify for hazard pay. Wouldn't even be the weirdest justification he'd put into that particular column since the Avengers Initiative had gotten off the group. Superhero work included some very weird things.

Ladybug and Chat Noir don't even get a pay check. That's gotta bite.

Perfectly familiar with the back of his mind sitting back and providing peanut-gallery commentary, Clint quickly scanned the street. He could still make out the puppet-armors in the park, and more than a few had followed Peacemonger into the street – but right now, most of them were just sort of hanging around where they were. Apparently, they really were effectively drones. Sucked for the people inside them, granted, but at least that was one less thing to worry about, so long as Ladybug kept Peacemonger distracted.

Clint looked up, following Peacemonger's flight. Ladybug was hanging on like grim death as Peacemonger veered and spun, trying to shake her loose – although at least his weird I'm here to help you thing was apparently keeping him from trying to use a building to scrape her off his back; that was something.

Every now and then, Clint thought he saw a flash of pink-purple near Peacemonger's faceplate; apparently Papillon, wherever he was, wasn't particularly amused by the situation. Clint wondered what his damage was – ranting about the red-and-black earrings that were so close, but physically impossible to reach, probably.

But apparently there were limits to how deeply Papillon could control his victims – or maybe the connection was just harder to make when his target was flying all over the place rather than hesitating.

None of which was helping Clint's problem.

I said I'd cover her. I meant it. But as long as Peacemonger keeps swooping like that, I'm likely to hit her. Which would suck. In more ways than one.

Meaning he'd better find some other way to do his job. He was almost out of sticky-arrows at this point. He could try clotheslining Peacemonger, but again, he risked catching Ladybug in that, and he'd already used up one of his grapnel arrows getting out of the hotel room after Peacemonger introduced himself…

As Peacemonger roared past, Ladybug twisted around to catch Clint's eye with her own.

She held the gaze for a moment, just long enough to be sure she had his attention. Then, pointedly, she glanced to the side, and up.

At the Eiffel Tower.

Huh.

Clint jerked his chin in a quick nod, and then fired off a second flash arrow – not at Peacemonger, but across the street. It hit one of the brick pillars supporting the metalwork fence of the park with a brilliant flash of light that made the supervillain check his motion and turn – with Ladybug throwing her weight against him to steer him farther off-course.

Perfect distraction for Clint to retreat down the alley to the nearest crossroad and take off at a run.

---

"You stand watch here. And don't come in."

The ears and tail had fooled her, Natasha noted as the door closed behind Chat Noir. Chat Noir had a much better poker face than she'd given him credit for – even with those tell-tales, he hadn't given away just how much he did not like the entire situation. Not until those uncharacteristically clipped, hard words.

Turning, she positioned herself to keep watch through the window of the small café Chat Noir had led them into. So far as she could tell, though, they'd managed to evade any pursuit as they'd retreated down a small alley to a side street and this small café. Which might not mean anything; there was always the chance that they'd simply missed the signs…

Underneath the door to the kitchen, green light flickered for a moment.

Natasha drew a deep breath and deliberately turned away, focusing her watch on the windows leading outside. It was hard to wrap her mind around just how much Ladybug and Chat Noir had been forced to trust the Avengers – effectively strangers, outsiders who'd stumbled into the middle of this mess. Now Ladybug was trying to stall one of the more dangerous supervillains Papillon had yet created and trusting Clint to watch her back-

And all it would take would be Natasha deciding to ignore that closed door, and she'd know Chat Noir's real face.

Well. There was something she'd wanted to tell the pair. The circumstances were hardly ideal – but she was unlikely to get a better opportunity than this.

Quietly, knowing that her voice would carry in the dark café and kitchen even without magical ears to catch the sound, Natasha said, "You and Ladybug need a way to communicate as civilians."

Silence – the utter, complete silence of someone who had gone completely still, listening intently. No response, however, which was only sensible. The glamour protected their voices from recognition – but right now, he didn't have that defense.

Still, Natasha could hear the implicit question. "When we fought the Seamstress, you didn't know when Ladybug would arrive. Which means you don't have any way of contacting each other when you're not wearing the masks." She had to grimace at that. They were less frequent these days; most good SHIELD agents could recognize her, and she usually worked with Clint anyway. But she'd done double-blind missions herself, knowing there was another allied agent in place but not knowing who they were, and knowing that they wouldn't know her, in turn. Which made it so dangerously easy for the two agents to trip each other up…

Enough. She had a point to make. "I understand the need." Even if she hadn't been convinced of the need for secrecy before… well. Peacemonger was certainly a case-in-point. The Miraculous, whatever they were, might keep Ladybug and Chat Noir safe from Papillon's possession. But gambling on that might would be a dangerous game.

"However," she pressed, "you do need some way of contacting each other. You've been lucky so far; both of you have managed to find out about the akuma attacks relatively quickly. But not all the victims are obvious. One of these days, one of you is going to be caught alone, fighting against a supervillain somewhere that your partner will have no way of hearing about it."

Still no response. She didn't even hear him moving; even as a civilian, Chat Noir was cat-quiet, with an intensity that was almost tangible. She had to admire his self-control. No one – especially not a teenage boy – liked having weaknesses pointed out, even when they did see the value of the exercise. Natasha wondered if that scenario hadn't already happened, or at least come close. As the Avengers had discovered, which victims came to the attention of the international community had a great deal to do with luck, and the scale of their actions. And given how frequent the attacks were… it wasn't only possible, it was likely that Ladybug and Chat Noir had faced off against victims who'd never gotten a chance to come to wider attention. In which case, only random chance would have brought both of them to the scene.

Or magic-led luck. But, again, not something you wanted to gamble your partner's life – or your own – on.

Keep going. You don't know how long it takes him to recharge the transformation magic, and we need to get back as soon as possible. "You can set up lines of communication that won't compromise your identities. Burner phones. Pagers. Coded posts on the Ladyblog. Anonymous e-mail accounts. Any of those could work – but find something. And…"

She hesitated before continuing. Technically, what she wanted to say next crossed beyond the hazy line of offering advice as someone in a similar line of work to flat-out meddling, but…

She still remembered the way her stomach had simply dropped at Coulson's words, slightly distorted by the phone line: Barton has been compromised.

"Consider setting up a way to let your partner find your real identity," she said at last, knowing her voice had gone a little too flat and controlled. "In case Papillon gets to one of you, or if something happens. Sealed envelopes, a deadman letter – just make certain that if one of you disappears, the other has some way to find out what happened."

For the first time, she heard a reaction – a very soft, sharply indrawn breath, released in a slow sigh that hissed slightly, as though escaping through gritted teeth.

And then soft words, oddly distorted. "Transform me."

Green light flared at the opening under the door again. Then Chat Noir opened it – and Natasha was startled into chuckling. He had a mixing bowl in his hand – clearly having used that to distort his voice enough to say the trigger phrase.

She liked these kids.

He grinned cheekily as he set the bowl on the counter, the paw mark on his flat ring gleaming green and bright, all four of the pads restored. And if there was a thoughtful shadow underneath the grin – well. She knew something about the value of masks.

"Purrpared to bring Peacemonger down to earth?" he asked.

So he wasn't going to respond directly to what she'd said. Natasha could accept that. Ladybug and Chat Noir needed their secrets to stay secret. But he'd at least heard her out.

Right now, they had a job to do. "Ready," she replied. "Assuming you have some idea of how to actually reach him, when he can fly anywhere."

Chat Noir grinned. "What would you say to a little fun with applied physics?"

---

This is almost hilarious, Clint thought, sighting along his arrow at the shiny meteor of white and gold streaking purple light across the Parisian nightscape, and the little figure in black-and-red clinging like a really determined burr to his back. Only not just clinging, because somehow, Ladybug had managed to loop her yo-yo around Peacemonger, and now she was more sitting on the supervillain's back and steering the crazy swoops in almost lazy arcs swinging closer and closer to Clint's position on the Eiffel Tower.

The riding like a horse jokes would be inevitable, and Tony would probably own them with no shame, except for one little detail: Ladybug was a kid, which made her officially Off Limits.

Dear God, I think I finally found a joke that would embarrass Tony What-Is-This-Shame-Business Stark, Clint smirked to himself, still tracking that flight path as Ladybug guided Peacemonger's loops closer. This vantage point presented an interesting challenge – sure, he had no problem seeing his targets, but between the blaze of Peacemonger's armor and the lights of Paris below, his eyes didn't have any real chance to adjust to the darkness. That was going to make things a little tricky. And aiming at a bright object in a dark environment was much harder than you'd think; the high contrast and unusual lighting made judging distances tricky.

Still perfectly doable. He was a professional. But tricky.

Don't think she wants me shooting Peacemonger, though.

What she was ultimately after – other than stopping the whole rampage, getting the akuma away from Tony, and otherwise Saving the Day – Clint wasn't sure. But Ladybug clearly had a Plan – and from the way Chat Noir had reacted, the catboy knew what she needed from him and Natasha, at least.

So Clint settled in, watching intently, and let the back of his mind cackle in amusement as it calculated just how long he'd have to wait before teasing Tony about anything to do with this mess would count as funny, rather than goading. He was used to this sort of wait-and-watch game, as a sniper; letting part of his mind offer just enough commentary on the situation to keep him awake and alert, letting another part wander just enough to keep him relaxed enough to hold his position for hours, if need be – while the rest waited in predatory focus for the moment when the target was in range. Then – the tension of the bowstring between his fingers, the hum as shaft shot past his ear – and in the distance, someone or something falling over dead, while he packed up and shifted position before the arrow's flight could be tracked.

Granted, he usually knew what he would be aiming at. For the time being – he had his last grapnel arrow on the string, having used the other getting into position. If Peacemonger succeeded in throwing Ladybug off – well, odds were fairly good she'd manage to catch herself, the girl played Spiderman with that yo-yo on a regular basis. But if things looked like they might get a little hairy, he could at least shoot her a safety line.

If it turned out he wouldn't need it for that, well. He could always play lasso-the-supervillain himself. And if the idea of an itty bitty girl literally riding him like a rodeo horse didn't make Tony splutter, the idea of getting roped by Clint probably would.

Just give him a month or two to get over the whole I-became-a-supervillain part. Minimum.

But if Ladybug had wanted him just for that, there was no reason for her to have sent him off in this direction. Which meant there was something she wanted him to do.

You use a ranged fighter to hit the things you either can't reach or don't want to get too close to. But from the look of things, Ladybug had solved the whole problem of how to get close to Peacemonger, at least temporarily. So what was he missing…

Wait a minute. Since when do light poles go up higher than the skyline?

…oh.

Distracted for just a moment, Clint blinked at the two figures in black balanced delicately at the top of the silvery pole, looking down on the whole scene from several blocks away.

Oh man. So that's how they're going to get the drop on the Peacemonger…

---

Take her Miraculous!

Papillon's fury thundered through Peacemonger like one of Thor's lightning bolts, shattering clarity into a thousand white-hot sparks of mental pain until he could barely see the HUD of the helmet anymore.

Not that it mattered. He knew exactly where the Miraculous were, tantalizingly close-

Take them!

-and also out of reach. Arms didn't bend that direction. So long as Ladybug kept her position on his back, the earrings might as well be on the other side of the city.

Then throw her off! Papillon snarled. Slam her into the buildings, crush her like the insect that she is!

For a moment, Peacemonger's course veered off, arcing for the side of the Eiffel Tower, where he could scrape his unwanted passenger off the way he'd shuck mud off his shoes-

Then he corrected his course, accelerating away. No.

Outrage hammered down on him, halting Peacemonger in midair above the Champ de Mars parade grounds at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, as Papillon bore down on him with the full weight of his will. You will obey me!

Didn't Papillon know who he was dealing with? No one, no one, told Peacemonger what to do.

That wasn't the deal.

I thought I made the terms clear, Papillon countered, silkily dangerous. You owe me the Miraculous!

I'm not killing Ladybug to get them for you. The point was to protect, and to teach the people of Paris to grow up and start defending themselves for a change. Take Ladybug's Miraculous away, and she'd be safe, and people like Mayor Bourgeois would have to start actually doing something
Oh, he'd get the Miraculous for Papillon. A deal was a deal. But he'd do it his own way. Without hurting them.

Papillon's disgust was palpable. Heroes. You always try to be so… so heroic!

Well, that was what the man got for cutting a deal with a hero-

"Thank you for the ride, Mister Peacemonger," Ladybug interrupted the internal argument, her voice mock-sweet. "But I think this is where you and I part ways."

And then she jumped off.

"Lucky Charm!"

Peacemonger shot upward for a moment before he could correct the repulsors' force to counteract the sudden loss of weight – and then swore and dove, blasting straight through the glittering haze of red and black and light.

Idiot! Grab the item before she can catch it – if she does not have the Charm, she won't be able to undo all your hard work, Peacemonger!

Except that he couldn't make out the Charm in all the glitter and sparkle – and Ladybug was right there.

Back in her hand, the yo-yo whirled over Ladybug's head like helicopter rotors, not fully stopping the fall but slowing it. But dangling in mid-air, drifting down to the ground, her weapon and her dominant hand both occupied, there wasn't anything she could do about him reaching for those earrings at last…

Just as he came up under the whirl of the yo-yo, something latched onto his boot and tugged.

Pulled off course, Peacemonger came up again and turned, HUD locking onto the heat signature perched in the beams of the Iron Lady's upper structure.

Hawkeye. Of course. How could he have forgotten the archer's knack for perfect timing?

It doesn't matter, Papillon reminded him. Focus on Ladybug, we have her…!

True enough. Clint didn't have many arrows that could stop his armor, and he'd already used most of them up. The rest wouldn't be effective at this range; the special add-ons made them too heavy to be at all accurate beyond a limited distance. Which meant he could turn his attention back to Ladybug.

Who had just touched down lightly on the grass, holding out her hands to catch a very large, very heavy horseshoe-shaped object.

Peacemonger couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing as Ladybug blinked owlishly at the giant spotted magnet in her hands.

"Oh, that's clever," he congratulated her, hovering in place as he grinned at the girl. Not that she'd see it through the helmet, but the thought counted, right? "I'm afraid it's completely useless, though. The armor's not much use if all it takes is a big magnet to reel me in, you know."

And Ladybug…

…smiled at him.

"Oh, it's not for that," she said mischievously. "Although I do admit, it worked perfectly to make you hold still."

And two new weights slammed down on Peacemonger's shoulders with the force of a guided meteorite.

"Cataclysm!"

---

All three of them crashed down to earth together. Natasha and Chat Noir both rolled with the impact to escape the hail of white and gold armor fragments raining down all around them. Many still crackled and sparked with purple-white energy; one arc danced over Chat Noir's shoulders for a moment, leaving blond hair poofed like the tail of a startled cat. More crackled across the knuckles of Natasha's right hand, leaving a momentary numbness quickly followed by a burning pins-and-needles sensation, making her fingers spasm-

Shoving that aside, Natasha twisted about, just in time to see Peacemonger pick himself up from the midst of the wreckage of his armor, as though he hadn't just been hammered out of the sky with all of their weight and momentum combined.

Frankly, Natasha was amazed that she was still capable of moving. Even with the initial impact with the distracted Peacemonger to break their fall, no one would normally survive toppling from the height of Chat Noir's impromptu pole-vault…

I think we can consider the manipulation of inertia officially one of their abilities, she thought distantly, as Peacemonger turned to face them with a snarl.

He looks like Tony.

Only reasonable – most of Papillon's victims retained at least their basic features in supervillain form. Why would Papillon give up a psychological weapon like that? But understanding that didn't make it any less of a shock to see Tony Stark, wearing a skin-tight white and gold suit, lines of power radiating out across suit and skin alike from the corrupted arc reactor, as though Tony's own body had become a circuit-board, as he brought blazing palms up to face them.

The repulsors are part of his hands, damn it…!

Clawed fingers digging into the soft grass and dirt for purchase, Chat Noir threw himself at Peacemonger, momentum and magical strength and pure, stubborn determination hurtling him through the air to slam into the man's shoulders with enough force to throw Peacemonger back and to the ground. The catboy twisted as they fell, hooking his arms under Peacemonger's and holding the man, just for a moment-

A moment was all Natasha needed. Her still-twitching right hand was no use; lunging forward, Natasha reached out with her left and snatched the arc reactor out of Peacemonger's chest.

Please don't let this kill him, she thought distantly as the supervillain with Tony's face suddenly seized up, the glowing lines of power veining his body suddenly going dark. Tony had a margin of safety between the removal of the arc reactor and irreversible damage – but every time something messed with the arc reactor it shaved away a little more of that margin, and she didn't know what effect Papillon's meddling might have…

Something dropped over her shoulder to land with a thump on Peacemonger's chest.

Looking at the incongruous black spots decorating the bright red, oversized horseshoe magnet, Natasha very nearly burst out laughing.

Instead, she allowed herself a steadying breath, and handed the purple arc reactor, humming with something that felt very much like outrage, over to Ladybug. "I trust you have a plan to destroy this without taking half of the city out with it," she said.

The girl smiled confidently as she adjusted her yo-yo so that a length of string dangled in a loop from her hand. "I have an idea," she said, fitting the arc reactor into the loop.

Then she turned, waving up at a shadow in the girders two-thirds of the way up the Eiffel Tower, and began to whirl the makeshift sling, faster and faster, until-

"Pull!" she yelled – and launched the arc reactor into the sky.

---

Following the rising gleam of the arc reactor along the length of his arrow, Clint grinned.

Nice. Just like shooting discs on the target range.

He loosed, the arrow slicing through the air to strike the arc reactor at the peak of its climb, high overhead.

…Only with bonus fireworks!

---

Tony's going to complain about Hollywood physics, Natasha thought, bemused, as the little star of purple light exploded outward in a ring of crackling energy and pure force that ripped through the night sky. The very top of the Eiffel Tower vanished, vaporized-

And that was about the extent of the damage, as the explosion petered out, having expended its energy outward rather than down, leaving nothing but hints of purple Saint Elmo's fire dancing across the sheered-off top of the Tower and a few of the taller buildings nearby.

As well as an eye-searing arc of red-white, as Ladybug's yo-yo shot up and snapped closed on a hint of black-and-purple flutter in the sky.

"Gotcha," Ladybug said fiercely, whipping the weight back into her hand.

Natasha gritted her teeth and reached for the magnet. They were in a race against time now. Based on the first Stoneheart battle, even if the akuma wasn't immediately purified, once the talisman was broken the victim would quickly revert back to themselves. In order to restore Tony's arc reactor, Ladybug would need to use her restorative powers – but to do that, she'd need to use the Charm currently helping to keep him alive-

White butterfly fluttering away into the night, Ladybug darted past Natasha to slap her hand down on the giant magnet.

"Please let this work," she muttered, eyes wide and dark with worry. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

For just a moment, nothing happened.

Then the magnet burst apart into swarms of glittering ladybugs, nearly blinding Natasha as they burst apart in front of her, swarms multiplying as they swirled and scattered. The top of the Eiffel Tower flashed back into place, as though it had never been missing…

And a small blue-white light appeared in midair, seeming to float for just a moment before remembering that inconvenient law of physics known as gravity.

"Oh no-!" Ladybug gasped, as it started to fall.

Chat Noir leapt, catching the reactor in midair and flipping around to toss it to Natasha. Catching it with a hand that was no longer half-numb, Natasha snapped it into place in the cavity of Peacemonger's chest.

Just as oily black-and-purple energy washed over Peacemonger, leaving Tony Stark blinking owlishly up at her.

For just a moment, he seemed to hesitate, taking in the situation – lying on the grass blinking up at the night sky, Natasha kneeling over him with her hand on his chest, Ladybug standing just behind her and looking on with worry, as Chat Noir worked his way past no-longer-squashed topiary to rejoin them.

"…Just for the record, I'm pretty sure I don't really fit the Sleeping Beauty role," Tony commented.

Natasha snorted, more relieved than she really wanted to admit to the man. He'd never let her forget it if she did. "It seems to suit you better than White Knight, at least," she said dryly.

---

AN: Argh. Clint was very, very frustrating in this chapter. The problem with him is, he's a sniper. Which means that his role in a battle is to be invisible until he lands a precise shot at the exact right moment. He's not up close with the other characters, he's not talking, and he's not visible. Which makes keeping him an active part of the action very tricky. I finally had to sit on the plotbunnies until they yielded their "Natasha and Tony PoVs only" approach, at least briefly.

When Marinette's Uncle Cheng is possessed, he switches from clumsy, halting French to perfectly fluent, so the linguistic shift seems to be part of the possession as well. It makes a certain amount of sense, after all – the people Papillon really wants to send a message to appear to be native French speakers.

Regarding distances: Adrien's house, Marinette's house, the park, and the school all are practically within eyeshot of each other, which seems a little bit ridiculous. Especially given that Climatika implies that the Kids Plus TV station is right next to the park as well. I don't know zoning laws in Paris, but that seems odd. The location of the Grand Paris is a little more vague, but every time we've seen people traveling that way, they seem to take public transit or cars. Which in Adrien's case doesn't mean much, given that he apparently is chauffeured to the school instead of walking two or three blocks, but it's the closest information I have. (Personally, I tend to pad the distances we see in the show; some of the very restricted area used has to do with budget limitations for animating backgrounds, I suspect!)

In canon, we don't hear Ladybug and Chat Noir comparing different akuma very much – in part, I suspect, because this would mess with the whole "watch in any order" approach. However, logically they would start building up an internal list of references; that's part of what experience is all about!

Natasha's suggestions about communication methods have shown up in other fics; I especially like Masks by Lynse on AO3, which introduces the idea of a sealed envelope with a photograph as a way of giving Ladybug and Chat Noir the ability to learn their partner's identity, without actually forcing the Reveal.

And as for Chat Noir's reaction to Natasha's advice… given his home life, he knows painfully well how damaging simply not knowing can be.