"Com. link one check, can you hear me?"

"Yup."

"Com. link two check, you read?"

"Loud and clear."

"Do you have your baton?" Emma rolled her eyes.

"Yes mom, I have my baton. How could I possibly forget it?"

"Just let your mother mother you, she doesn't get to do it often," her dad teased.

"I'm not just mothering," her mom said, sounding just a little defensive. "Every tool she needs is on that baton. Trackers, GPS, her phone. Not to mention it's her only real weapon and her only real defense other than cataclysm." she paused. "And okay, yes, I'm mothering. I'm a mom, it's what I do."

Emma smirked, but neglected to reply. She allowed her baton to extend downward till it hit solid ground, and she stood there at the edge of the roof for a moment, a thrill of exhilaration zipping through her system. She'd been going out for two and a half weeks, but every night still felt like her first. Endless, new possibilities waited around each corner, and the probability of finding another Miraculous wielder increased every time she went out.

She took a deep breath, paced half a step back, then launched herself into the air, extending the baton further and catapulting herself into the sky and towards the nearest building.

She and her family lived in the same district that her parents had grown up in, and the layout was so familiar, Emma could walk it with her eyes closed. But from up above, everything looked different. Streetlamps and the lights from windows cast everything in a magical glow that looked like a clear night sky reflecting on itself. The night was still but for the cold night air slapping her face as she twisted and somersaulted through the air. The general smog that surrounded every city floated about lazily, creating an impressive layer of fog, and there was not a star to be seen in the sky.

A perfect night for a black cat.

Most sane people were safe in their homes by this point in the evening.. Everyone knew that the night belonged to the thieves, who had been taking more than their due as of late. A problem she was set on fixing. She didn't want her friends to be afraid of going out to a late movie anymore. Or for Mayor Chloe Bourgeois to stress ceaselessly about a solution that would not so easily be found. She was determined to help. Determined to make the night her own domain.

Her belt-like tail streamed out behind her like a banner, as she leapt the expansive gap between two buildings, landing in the gravel of the next roof without a sound. She loved the flip in her stomach each time she thought she would fall, like being on a rollercoaster only she controlled. It was a feeling she'd never felt before. She'd pushed herself to her physical limits before; pushed to be better than the best in her ballet, but this was exhilaration beyond words, only feelings.

Out here, she was not Emma Agrest; she was Chatte Noire.

She positioned herself to leap again, and—

"Do you think I should get my hair cut again? I think I liked my pixie cut better than this bob."

The sound of her mother's voice, right in her ear, so unexpectedly, threw her off completely. She tripped over the toe of her boot, careened forward, windmilling her arms wildly to catch herself before ultimately falling towards her face. Some quick instinct took over, and she tucked and rolled over her shoulder at the last second, landing upright on one knee.

"I think you look cute either way, but if you want the more professional look, I'd say that pixie cut you had for the Fashion Show last year in Rome is your best bet."

Noire groaned aloud, and was about to suggest that her parents continue the conversation later, or at least mute their side of the com., when a smug voice spoke up from the deep shadows.

"You know, when I first saw you running around, I thought you might actually be a threat." Noire whipped around and thanked her lucky stars for night vision. "But after seeing that embarrassing landing, I'm starting to have second thoughts."

'This is going to be one of those times when I can't come up with a good comeback until an hour later,' Noire sighed inwardly. 'So maybe my best bet is brooding silence. Like Batman.'

So she did just that. She angled herself towards him, crouched slightly, ready for a fight, and felt her tail lash dangerously behind her.

The boy, who couldn't have been much older than herself, squinted through the darkness at her. He was wearing equally dark garb as Noire herself— Black leather with what appeared to be two red spots on his chest.

'One of the Miraculous thieves?' she wondered. She couldn't tell which one for the live of her though. 'No wings, no fangs, he—'

She gasped and barely had time to dodge his lightning quick attack. She hadn't even seen him reach for a yo-yo, but it was in his hand now, and he was swinging it at her so fast she didn't even have time to do anything but weave and dodge, relying entirely on her own speed and reflexes.

'Ladybug,' she decided. 'Definitely the Ladybug holder.'

Chatte Noire finally managed to jump back and draw out her baton, just in time to smack the yo-yo away.

The Ladybug holder paused. "Not bad," he relented. "Not good either though. What, did you start using your Miraculous last week?"

'Pretty much.' She didn't admit it out loud though. Instead, she took the opportunity to take the offensive, fainting to the right, getting in a solid hit to his back before slipping into the shadows where he obviously couldn't see well. The bug stumbled, and whipped around, face heated with fury. He roared and swung his yo-yo at her again, but this time she was ready. She countered easily, and recognized that he didn't have all that much more experience with his Miraculous than she did. He was fast, she would give him that, but he didn't really know what he was doing. He was just… swinging the end of the line at her.

At one point, his luck finally kicked in, and he managed to hit her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Noire winced and slid back a step.

"Not bad, but not good either," she mimicked. "What, did you start using you Miraculous yesterday?"

She almost couldn't believe the words had slipped out of her mouth. Never had she taunted someone, much less egged them on.

It seemed to have the desired effect though, because the guy had a temper, and as that temper burned, his movements got sloppier, which allowed Noire more chances to get hits in, which only made him even angrier.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Marinette came through the com., sounding rightly panicked. "Are you fighting one of the Miraculous holders? What happened to clue searching?"

"Nevermind that; that other holder just got burned, and he was burned by Emma!"

"Adrien!"

Noire lept back from the fight long enough to put a hand to the com. in her ear.

"If you two could stop talking while I'm trying to concentrate, that would be great."

She really hoped she wouldn't get a lecture later for talking to them like that. She turned her full attention back to the villain at hand (the realized with a happy little jolt that this was her first ever super-villain battle) and realized that they were both standing in the light of a streetlamp. This seemed to through the other holder for a loop as well, because he was staring at her, like he'd been expecting someone else.

"What, cat got your tongue?" she asked.

'I can't believe I just said that…' She could hear her dad snickering appreciatively in her ear. Surprisingly enough, the other holder did the same, letting his shoulders fall slack, and setting his yo-yo back on his hip.

"Not yet, you want it?" Now Noire was rather taken aback.

'Good grief,' she thought. 'Is this guy for real?'

"I'm not particularly fond of bug-bites, so no, I'll pass." Although, she was feeling pretty pleased with herself right about then too.

The guy shrugged, and leaned casually up against the brick wall of a chimney stack.

"Your loss," he said. "The name's Stigma."

Noire raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "So, you consider yourself a disgrace or a visible sign of a disease?"

Stigma rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly. "Ha ha, no. A chilocorus stigma, also known as the twice-stabbed lady beetle, is a type of ladybug."

Against her will, Noire felt herself storing the information away for later.

"How long did it take you to think up that one?" she asked. "Or did Google do all the work for you?"

The yo-yo on his hip chimed, and he glanced at it before sending her a charming smile.

"Guess that's my cue to leave," he said, plucking something else out of one of his many pockets. He raised his fist in the air, and Chatte Noire could only flinch back as he threw a small package on the ground, and it exploded into a fine white mist.

A smoke bomb.

With a growl of frustration, Noire leapt forward, swiping at the spot where Stigma had stood. She missed once, twice, but on her third swing, the tip of her middle claw swiped against something solid. She heard a hiss of pain, but then he was gone.

She ran to each edge of the rooftop, trying to find a trace of him, but he was good at covering his tracks, and there was no way to track him. She'd lost him.

Wow! I'm on a roll! Three chapters in one week? Unheard of! (For me anyway).

So we've found the Ladybug Miraculous holder, Stigma! What do you think of him so far? Will he be another flirty Chat Noir? An evil manipulative heart-breaker? A misunderstood, mislead boy? Something in the middle? Hmmmm...

Quick French Lesson: Chat Noir is actually a masculine term for black cat. The feminine translation is Chatte Noire. Thus the spelling change. They're also pronounced differently. :)

~TygerSong