"Ah, Nooroo. You have someone for me, then?"
"Yes, master. But I must warn you: I do not believe that it will be an efficient use of power to take this one."
"I will be the judge of that, thank you. Nooroo, dark wings rise!"
"So be it…"
Hawkmoth raised his arms as the transformation took him, imbuing him with the power that he craved. He curled his fingers into a tight fist, determined to make the most of this opportunity, no matter what the kwami said. "Insolent bug," he muttered. "We shall see who is wrong, and who is victorious!"
There was an echo of skepticism from his miraculous, and he gritted his teeth. "So who is this likely candidate? Ahh, yes. The joy of success tempered by the bitter disappointment that no one is around to share it. I see great potential here. Fly away, my little akuma, and evilise him!"
Hawkmoth watched as the deep purple butterfly fluttered to the window and away, willing it to fly faster, to reach its target with greater haste. He felt the urge to pace, but tamped it down, forcing himself to remain still, with his hands resting calmly on the head of his cane.
His akuma would take his newest champion, and it would be the beginning of the end for Ladybug and Chat Noir. He allowed his lips to curl into a smile.
"Bacchus, I am Hawkmoth. I understand that congratulations are in order. I will give you the power of that ancient god, to draw all of Paris into celebration with you as you so richly deserve, but you must agree to help me in return."
"Santé, Hawkmoth. Let's do it!"
The villain felt his power take the young man, transforming him from a plump, dejected mortal into the god of the vine, and watched through his eyes as he made his way through the university, reducing the student body to a drunken party—whether they wished to participate or not.
As always, he watched anxiously, waiting for the other Miraculous wielders to make their appearance, to provide him with the opportunity to seize what he so desperately desired. He was rewarded, soon enough, with the appearance of Chat Noir, and he felt his heart rate increase.
"You're having a party, and didn't invite me?" The cheeky cat asked, spinning his staff with an unnecessary flourish.
"Naw, man, you're invited! Everyone is invited." He pulled a purple cup from the bottomless sleeve mounted on the cask at his back, and dispensed some of the deep red wine from the nozzle. He held it out to Chat Noir invitingly. "Care for a drink?"
"I'll have to pass this time, uh—"
"Bacchus," he supplied jovially.
"Bacchus, nice! From the Roman pantheon, right? I always liked him."
"Right? Nothing like a bit of drunken debauchery when you want to kick back and celebrate something." He held the cup out again, wiggling it a bit. "You sure you don't want to partake?"
"Sorry, no drinking when I'm on the clock."
"Well, that's too bad then." He tipped the cup back and drained it himself, then pulled the nozzle from its holster and pointed it at the black-clad hero. "I'm afraid I just can't take no for an answer."
"Oh shi—" Chat dove, but it was too late. He was caught in the spray and rendered instantly intoxicated. His roll ended in an inelegant sprawl, and he clutched his head in confusion.
"Welcome to the party, Chat Noir! Let me know when your girl gets here, won't you?" He poured himself another drink, and raised it to the confused cat. "Santé!"
Bacchus turned from Chat Noir, and Hawkmoth shrieked in fury. "No! His Miraculous! Take his ring you idiot! He's disarmed, this is the perfect opportunity to take his ring!"
"Nah, he's just here for the party. A good host would never take advantage of a drunk guest."
Hawkmoth's hands shook with his fury. This was a golden opportunity, and his champion was wasting it! "You will go back and take his Miraculous! Now!" He used their empathic connection to trigger pain, thinking to coerce obedience, but to his surprise the man just laughed.
"I just completed my post-grad degree while dealing with chronic migraines. Compared to what I've been living with for years, that just tickles, man." He tipped his cup back again, draining it. "Take a bit of advice, man. You need to lay off this Hawkmoth thing, get lit, and get laid. It'll do you a world of good."
Hawkmoth felt his jaw drop, utterly bemused by this turn of events. He watched helplessly as his champion meandered through the university, turning it into one, big, useless party. He considered simply recalling his akuma, but he refused to give Nooroo the satisfaction of giving up. He was aware of the faint echo of amusement from his Miraculous, but he would not acknowledge it.
It was actually a relief when Ladybug appeared out of no-where to snatch the cup away and crush it beneath her foot. When it was over, he dismissed Nooroo from the brooch, not bothering to catch the spent kwami. He tumbled to the floor to land amid the harmless white butterflies, and eyed his master knowingly, in spite of his exhaustion.
"Don't speak," the man said, refusing even to look at the kwami. "Not a word, Nooroo. Not. A. Word."