Under cloudy skies, Adrien trudged up the dirt pathway, away from the tiny village behind. Everything was quiet, almost eerily quiet. There were people in the small brick buildings below the slope, but for the most part, they didn't come out. The ones that were in the streets were near silent, avoiding him, not answering called greetings. It made him slightly nervous. What were they all so afraid of?
Despite the gloomy weather, the area was nice enough. He looked around as he climbed the little hill, admiring the rolling farmland, rocky and craggy as it was in most places. This was a place that could be beautiful, all rustic and peaceful, thick forests in the distance. He loved the urban sprawl of Paris, but something about this area, in contrast, seemed much more peaceful. Almost sleepy.
"Plagg?" he asked, opening the pocket of his jacket. "How are you doing, buddy?"
"Mm?" Plagg stirred from his nap, blinking at him drowsily. Whatever Master Fu had done, it hadn't helped much. The old man had said that it would require further sessions, that eventually Plagg would get better. But still, Adrien couldn't completely fend off the worry, seeing Plagg so sick.
"Where are we?" Plagg asked, feverish. "It feels weird here."
"I know, I know," Adrien soothed. "We're somewhere that's going to make you feel better. Just hang on a little longer."
He continued forward, looking up the rocky hill toward the cave mouth open above. They were covering Irish and English literature in class, Miss Bustier valiantly trying to cram their heads full of it before they ran out of time for the trimester. So much of it described landscapes just like this. Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen, we daren't go a-hunting, for fear of little men.
At the top, an older woman from the village below was kneeling, reaching into a bag. Slowly, arthritically, she pulled out potatoes, carrots, beets, setting them all at the mouth of the cave. Adrien put on his best, brightest smile as he approached, not wanting to scare her too. "Preparing for lunch, madame?"
She looked up at him curiously, reaching deep into the sack for more food. "An outsider, is it? What have you come to ask for?"
"Ask for? Um…" Adrien shrugged, good-naturedly. "I don't want anything. I'm just digging up some rocks."
"Rocks." The woman pulled out a tangled mass of carrots, and began working to separate them. "Strange thing to ask the old king for."
"Old king?"
"Isn't that why you're here?" The woman glanced at him again. "If you weren't born here, that's usually the only reason anyone ever comes. Desperate people, endangered people. They go into the caves to ask the old king for a boon. Some never come out. But the ones that do, wearing jewelry from the old king's treasury, have their wishes granted. For a price." She shook her head. "They aren't human anymore, from what I've heard. Terrible powers, capable of miracles or horrors. And they're never quite the same as they were before."
"Is that right?" Adrien asked. "Funny. It sounds just like some fairytales we were studying in literature class not long ago. Maybe I can use it for a paper."
The woman gave him a measuring look. "You are not someone desperate enough to be here, to throw their life away. I can tell, you are someone who has a happy life for themselves. I would advise you not to uproot it, young man, to not begin another cycle of misery for yourself. Be content, and return to wherever you came from."
"Even if there is something dangerous in there, I can take care of myself," Adrien said. He could feel Plagg's weight, in his jacket pocket. "And… Turning around now isn't really an option. I have to do this."
"Oh, poor child." The woman shook her head. Then whipped her hand out, suddenly, grabbing onto Adrien's wrist. With one surprisingly strong motion, she ripped the woven grass bracelet off of his arm.
"Hey!" he yelled. "What are you doing? That's not yours!"
"Do you see this?" the woman hissed, waving her hand at the vegetables laid out at the mouth of the cave. "Do you see how hard we work, to keep the old king content and sated, so that he doesn't come out of his hole? I will not have you throw us all into jeopardy, just because you thought to come before him with something like this, to anger him by trying to cheat him of his prize!"
"Give it back!" he said, grasping for it. M. Kubdel was going to kill him.
The woman began ripping it into pieces, crushing and twisting the delicate bracelet. With a last defiant look at him, she took off, running down the rocky path back to the village.
He stared after her, angry. The people in this town were weird. The sooner he got this over with, and was on a return flight to Paris, the better. He reached into his backpack, retrieving his flashlight. Then, stepping over the row of vegetables, he walked into the quiet dark of the cave.
.:|:.
The same black car had driven past their school four times in a row now. Alya had dismissed it at first, but now it was getting a little harder to ignore. She could see it through the window, circling by on the road outside, slowing down as it passed by their school. An expensive-looking sports model. Was the driver lost?
She didn't think Marinette, sitting beside her, had noticed a thing. The girl was staring off into space, lost in her daydreams as usual. Every now and then, she seemed to snap out of it, and return to the doodle of a dress she had been sketching out in the back of her notebook, a frustrated look on her face. But for the most part, Marinette was spacing out even more than usual today.
"Psst! Alya!"
She leaned over, looking at the blue and green kwami poking his head out of her book bag. "Shh! If they catch us talking, we'll be in trouble."
"Aw, but I'm bored," the peacock kwami said. "And hungry!"
Alya sighed. "I have a packed lunch in the bottom of my bag. Help yourself." She had been planning to spend her lunch break snapping photos today, instead of going home.
The peacock kwami ducked down suddenly, bashful. "I… may have already eaten it all."
"Seriously?!"
"I was hungry! I'm still hungry!"
"Miss Cesaire!" Miss Bustier called. "If you can't keep your kwami quiet, then I'll have to ask you to take him to the principal's office."
"Sorry, Miss Bustier!" Alya called. "We'll be quiet!"
"Please try to be," the teacher said, before lifting her book again. "Now. Returning to Samuel Beckett. Ivan, would you kindly read the poem on page seventy-three?"
Alya waited a moment, for Miss Bustier to be distracted by Ivan's plodding voice struggling to get through the words. Then she leaned down, reaching in her wallet and pulling out a euro. "Here," she whispered. "There's vending machines downstairs. Stay out of trouble this time, okay?"
"Okay!" the peacock kwami chirped, grabbing the euro and zipping toward the closed door. He phased out as he approached it, passing through.
Alya exhaled, leaning back in her chair.
Nino was studying Chloe again from across the aisle. If she were a more jealous type of girlfriend, Alya might have felt bothered by that. But she knew Nino, and she knew Chloe, and she knew there was no way someone so snotty and spoiled would ever pose a serious threat. Adrien's seat was empty. Marinette was clearly noticing Adrien's seat being empty.
She glanced around behind her for a moment, at Lila. The girl was missing their meetings again, where they decided who would transform and patrol on what nights each week. She had been hoping to ask Lila to fill in for her tomorrow night, so that she and Nino could go to the carnival. But the Italian girl's face was dark and brooding right now, as though listening to some negative voice inside her head. Alya was almost afraid to ask.
Oppressively bored, she started to turn back to the question of the black car, circling around for the fifth time now, as a break from the crush of never-ending Irish poetry. Only to be brought back to the present by the sound of the door opening.
M. Damocles stepped in, clearing his throat. "Miss Bustier, could I interrupt for a moment?"
"Oh, of course," Miss Bustier said, a little frazzled. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "Is it 10:30 already? Pay attention, class. M. Damocles has something very important to say."
The sound of rustling, as everyone struggled to sit up and focus.
M. Damocles stepped toward the podium, looking over them for a moment. Sighed. "Class. I know you're feeling… a bit overwhelmed lately. We've been asking a lot of you. Extended school hours, and tutoring sessions afterwards, trying to cram in every bit of curriculum that we missed during the months that Papillon terrorized Paris."
The mention of Papillon woke people up. He paused for a moment, waiting for them to settle down again and refocus. "In addition to that, it's beautiful weather outside. I and your teachers realize that. We can't entirely blame you for being distracted. You're tired, you're stressed out, and… Unfortunately, you're not absorbing new information as quickly as hoped. Preliminary test results have been… Well, concerning."
To the side, Miss Bustier looked down at her clasped hands, held tightly in front of her body, dispirited. The young teacher had been working harder than ever, trying to help them all, to increase the workload. She looked like she hadn't slept in quite a long time. It had to be frustrating, to have all of that work result in so little effect.
"Unfortunately, if we can't improve, there will have to be new measures," M. Damocles continued. "Summer school, for one. If even that doesn't work… Well, practically everyone would have to be held back, and repeat a year. I'm sure none of us want that to happen, right? So. We're announcing a contest. A game, of sorts." He held up a flier. "We all want summer break, don't we? So, let's work toward it! Each of your teachers, in each class, will have a certain academic challenge for you. You will be competing against your classmates, and you will be scored according to your performance. At the end of the month, the top three scorers in each class will be able to compete in a final round, for fabulous prizes. The one for first place is a travel package, provided by a local travel agency, for you and three others. You could take your entire family on vacation. Now wouldn't that be nice?"
Chloe scoffed in the front row. "I guess that's fine for most of you," she said, rolling her eyes. "But for me, I can travel any time I want. The cost of plane tickets is no object. You're going to have to work harder than that, to motivate me."
"The travel package is being generously provided by Mayor Andre Bourgeois himself," M. Damocles said, fixing her with a steely look. "He is very serious about your class not being held back, Miss Bourgeois. I can imagine he would be quite upset if we had to resort to holding you back anyways. The words 'grounded' were mentioned."
Chloe paled. Her father had never threatened to ground her before. If even M. Damocles wasn't afraid of her, this was a serious situation indeed.
Kim raised his hand. "M. Damocles? You said every class. Does that include gym?"
"Yes, of course," M. Damocles said.
"Then," Kim said, "What about the people with superpowers? Isn't that a little unfair? I'm never going to be able to outrun one of them."
"Well," M. Damocles said, frowning thoughtfully. "I suppose, if they were caught using their superpowers, we'd have to—"
The loud alarm cut him off. Overhead, the fire sprinklers turned on. Shrieks and yells of surprise filled the classroom.
"Oh dear," Miss Bustier said, trying to shield her book from the downpour. "Students, line up at the door! Let's go outside quick and orderly, now."
Alya stood with the other students. Nino looked back at her, confused. "What's with the face?" he asked.
"Alya!" The peacock kwami popped out of the wall next to her, still phased out.
"You phased through the fire alarm?" she asked.
"Is that what that red box was?" The peacock kwami looked up at the water falling from the ceiling, fascinated. "Yeah. I guess I phased through the fire alarm."
"Do you think he short-circuited it or something?" Marinette asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. But I am not getting detention because of this. Little guy, in my bag, now!"
"Eep!" The peacock kwami zipped into the bag, hiding. Alya, now completely soaked, snatched the bag up and ran for the door.
.:|:.
The woman stepped out of the pizza restaurant towards the end of the day, carrying a heavy bag of trash for the dumpster. Tired, she took a moment to brush flour off of her uniform, looking around the alley behind the restaurant. What she wouldn't give for a new job, with better pay and customers who weren't complete jerks. She lugged the trash bag toward the dumpster, grunting as she lifted it and dropped it in.
As she turned, a flash of color in the dim alley caught her eye. There was a weird graffiti design painted onto the cobbled ground for some reason, sort of like an upside-down "A" in a circle, if the "A"'s legs were curved into outward spiral shapes. On top of it, someone had dropped a twenty-euro bill!
She looked around for a moment, for a possible owner. The alley was empty. So, guiltily, she stepped forward, bending down and reaching for it.
The moment her fingers brushed it, the painted circle lit up. The waitress cried out as she felt herself going rigid, paralyzed. She stared down in surprise as a thick gold bangle materialized around her wrist.
.:|:.
We're taking the quickest route today? Ebbe asked, floating near Lila's head. Why is that? Not going to follow pretty boy around today?
"Nathanael's gone an entire week without any problems," Lila said, shifting her book bag around her shoulders. "Chances are, the bullies have learned their lesson. If not, I'll teach it to them a few more times tomorrow."
Good, The fox kwami said, scowling. Because if you started in on that lovesick stuff again, I wouldn't be sticking around. It's beyond annoying, how emotional you humans get on that topic.
"Oh, totally agree. Emotions are annoying, even for me." She was quiet for a moment, turning the corner onto the avenue leading home. "Ebbe? Can I ask you something?"
I suppose. At least one of us should be decent at answering questions.
"Nino mentioned before that you were with a line of thieves, before you met me. What was the deal with all of that?"
He turned in midair, looking at her. His scowl was deeper than usual.
"Well?"
…You have Chemistry tutoring. I just remembered. You need to go back the other way.
"Oh yeah." She had almost forgotten. Had he really forgotten too, or had he just been going to keep quiet on it, to watch her suffer in amusement? She could never tell, with him. Slowly, she turned, looking back the way she had come. "Thank you. But why are you dodging my question?"
You still won't answer my initial one, he replied, before zooming forward, going ahead of her. Until you do, I don't owe you any answers at all.
.:|:.
Gamera lifted his shield, blocking a blow from Ladybug's yoyo. He ducked to the side, springing for a nearby rooftop, before throwing the shield entirely at her. Ladybug jumped high to avoid it, snapping her yoyo toward a nearby chimney. It caught, and she swung herself up, aiming a long flying kick toward him.
It was late sunset now, oranges and purples spreading through the sky high above the city. They were supposed to be patrolling, for at least a few hours, before it was time to go home and focus on homework. But the streets were quieter than usual, no crime happening anywhere that the police didn't have firmly in hand. The choices were to start in on the textbooks early, or to practice sparring against each other. They had already been focused on school work for twelve hours before. The answer was obvious.
"A little more aggressive," Ladybug called, as he pulled away from her kick. "You could have blocked that with an attack."
"I'm not trying to actually hurt you," Gamera said. He began sprinting, chasing after her.
"You won't," Ladybug said, swinging from roof to roof effortlessly. "But if you aren't afraid to hit hard, then you're going to get destroyed the first time you go up against another villain."
"What other villain?" he asked, grinning. "The pickpockets and shoplifters we deal with now? Ooh, or maybe a vandalizer, with his scary graffiti powers!"
She rolled her eyes back at him, though she smiled too.
For another thirty minutes or so, they took turns chasing each other above the city, occasionally throwing attacks here or there. Finally, Nino was the one to slow down, holding up his hands in surrender. "Water break! Whew, sorry, Ladybug, I'm not quite as in shape as you are, I think."
"Sure." She dropped down onto the balcony next to him, a little out of breath herself. "I think there's a water fountain, in the park the next neighborhood ov—"
Startled screams in the distance. They instantly focused, looking at each other.
"Well," Nino said, climbing up onto the balcony's railing. "Time to go to work." He jumped, leading the way.
They moved swiftly forward, street after street. A loud boom came from the direction of the screams. Ladybug's eyes widened suddenly as a small car was thrown high up into the air, straight toward them.
Gamera jumped in front of her, pushing hard with his shield. It pulsed with energy, repelling the car back down into the street. They stopped on the roof of a pizza place, looking down.
A woman laughed maniacally, lifting another car. Her clothes were tight-fitting, tan edged with white and black. Dangling from a long belt around her waist were two short spears, tipped with what looked like ivory. In addition to a mask, two black spikes seemed painted onto her face, one under each eye. A simple golden bangle, around her wrist. She growled ferociously, clawed hands shifting the car a little before throwing it at the fleeing restaurant customers.
Ladybug threw her yoyo forward, snapping the end of it around the car's bumper, and pulled hard. It tugged the car off course just enough, sending it smashing into a lamppost instead of a terrified woman holding a baby. "Is that a supervillain?!" How?! Papillon was defeated, and the butterfly kwami should be safe at Master Fu's shop. There shouldn't be any more akumas!
"Ah!" the woman cried, turning to face them, wild eyes glimmering with battle lust. Her pupils were slitted, dark against an amber background. "Ladybug! Turtle! It's been a long time. What was it, the Battle of Thermopylae last?"
Gamera lifted his shield, frowning. "We don't know you, lady. Stand down. This doesn't have to get violent."
"On the contrary," she hissed, grabbing the short spears from her belt. She focused, and they glowed, extending to a longer length, their tips sharpening dangerously. "The great king wishes for me to give this city a test. And, on a more personal level, you humiliated me that day in battle. I! The great Sabertooth! Such indignities will not stand!"
Ladybug and Gamera braced themselves as, snarling, the woman threw her spears toward them.
.:|:.
Nathalie leaned back in her chair at her desk, studying the rows and columns of a very complicated spreadsheet. So much red in front of her, so few ideas for ways to turn the numbers black again. Her eyes were burning from working so long on them, and she resisted the urge to rub them, to risk smearing her makeup.
It was going to be another night burning the midnight oil, sacrificing her health for the ungrateful Agrestes. She frowned, turning to the other side of the contemporary white desk, reaching for the phone. At the very least, she would get a cup of coffee delivered to her, before the kitchen workers went home for the day.
Buzzing. Her hand paused on the receiver, as she looked back toward her computer. It was almost dark, so apparently, the security team had decided they just didn't need to bother answering the door anymore, and had routed the front door intercom back up to her computer for the night. Suppressing irritation, she swiveled her chair back around to the computer and pressed a button. "Hello?"
A window popped up on her computer, the front door security camera flickering to life. "Er, hello there," the person at the door said. He was looking down, at his wallet, squinting at the information written on a student ID. "Can I come in, please?"
"Adrien?" she asked, surprised. "You're home? Really?"
"So that's how you pronounce it," he said quietly to himself, apparently unaware that the sensitive outdoor microphone could pick it up. He looked up into the camera then. "Um, yes! Adrien would like to come in please. Unlock the door at once!"
Nathalie examined him for a moment. Someone must have had a rough flight back, to be so grouchy.
Uncertainty flickered over the boy's features. "This is the right address, isn't it? I was pretty sure I double-checked…" His head ducked down again, studying the student ID.
"No, this is your home. You're always welcome here, sir. Forgive me, it's been a long day." Quickly, she entered the command to unlock the door. "Please, come in."
On the screen, she could see him smiling and reaching for the door handle. She got up, straightening her business suit, and left her office to go greet him.
In the front foyer, Adrien slowly slid his duffel bag to the ground, looking around him with interest. He whistled lowly, taking in the chandelier, the expensive portraits, the clean modern design. "Very shiny," he said to himself. "I could get used to this."
"Welcome back, sir," Nathalie called from the top of the stairs. She descended, still a little confused. "Don't get me wrong. I'm very happy to see you. But I thought you weren't going to come home for some time still?"
He shrugged, smirking. "Change of plans. I'm kind of a spontaneous person anyways, right? The kind that takes off on sudden trips alone. Whatever I told you before, I've changed my mind now."
"Okay," she said slowly. "Does that extend to my proposal?"
"Proposal?"
"You know," she said. What had gotten into him, in the south of France? "About the business? The designs, and using your name."
"Oh." Brief confusion, though he quickly masked it. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you think is best, I guess. I don't really care. Now." He looked around again, grinning. "Show me to my room."
"A-at once, sir." She started to reach down for his duffel bag, then stopped. "Adrien! What happened to you?" His right hand was wrapped in bandages.
He glanced at it, and shrugged. "Just a mild burn I got on my travels, no big deal. It doesn't even hurt."
"Adrien."
He turned at the new voice. A man in a suit, standing on the balcony above, looking down. An electronic shackle was wrapped around his right ankle, monitoring his movements. He gripped the rail, watching Adrien with a guarded, slightly vulnerable expression. "You've come home," he said softly. "It's been months… How have you been?"
Adrien turned, staring up at the man for a moment. Then, recognition flickered in his eyes. "Gabriel Agreste, right?" he said, pointing. "Man, you are in all the papers, lately, it seems like. You were quite the mover and shaker not too long ago, weren't you?" He glanced around the house once again. "Makes sense. You're an Agreste. I'm an Agreste. Both of us pretty important people. This is going to be great."
Gabriel paused, cutting off whatever he had been about to say. His eyes drifted down to Adrien's hand, to the bandages covering up his miraculous. His eyes narrowed.
"Anyways, big fan of your work," Adrien said, turning away. "But we'll have to talk about it later. Miss! To my room, please."
"Yes sir," Nathalie said, picking up the bag. She carried it up the stairs, leading the way.