I have given up completely on separating the languages english and French. Now you'll never know because italics are so annoying.

Italics means emphasis, thought, or some sort of volume difference.

Hope ya'll enjoy

School hallways were the worst. It was filled with people who didn't know how to walk. Then those people decide to link arms and they block the entire road. Not to mention it was crowded; so much so that it was almost impossible not to step on someone's foot or brush shoulders with others or not to get clipped on the elbow by someone's metal water bottle because some genius thought it was a great idea to turn around in the middle of said crowded hallway and they forgot they were wearing a stupid backpack with a stupid metal water bottle and a shi-

Chase scowled.

The crowd seemed to sense his bad vibes and gave him a little room.

The akuma attack had apparently only lasted for two hours or so. Apparently every adult in Paris was kidnapped via bubble abduction. Apparently he needed to be more aware of his surroundings.

How was he supposed to know there was an akuma?!

He had his headphones in blasting orchestrational music and his nose deep in Pre-Calc homework. The only time he wasn't graphing polynomials was when Keana asked him where Mom was.

It wasn't like she mysteriously disappeared, either. She had legitimately gone to the store. Dad was still at work- the only thing that might have been suspicious was that Dad wasn't home from work. But that could be explained in any manner of ways.

So not only did he fail to recognize the danger, he let Keana go straight to the source. She's seemed a bit muted ever since. Like she was dreading something. She refused to talk with him about anything regarding the situation.

Chase's fists clenched and he decided that if he ever saw Hawkmoth in person, his fist would swiftly become friends with the terrorist's nose. Unless he didn't have one, like some sort of knock off Voldemort. Then he would improvise and probably go for the throat.

He swung open the door to the 'Band' room and entered. His Trombone and Baritone cases were leaning against the wall where the other instruments were.

There were only six other people in Band class. Three of them didn't know how to read sheet music and the other two were percussionists who only ever recorded themselves playing random songs on the marimba. It was hard to get them to pay attention and do anything productive. Not that the conductor tried very hard to get the class to do anything.

Monsieur Garnier was the head of the fine arts department; which included band, choir, dance, and theatre. Garnier always seemed devoid of passion. In band he would hand out sheet music, try to conduct warm-ups, and then when he raised his baton his face seemed to fall. Then he would step of the raised platform and retreat to his office. He wouldn't speak and he wouldn't respond to any questions.

Monsieur Garnier was one of the saddest people Chase had ever seen.

The sound of strings getting strummed drifted into focus. Chase's eyes landed at the source: Luka, a blue hair guitarist. The boy was in his year and, from what Chase knew, had a little sister in Keana's class. Luka was a pretty chill guy, even if he gave off a strange mix of goth hippie vibes. And he stayed chill even in the wake of all the underclassmen fangirling over him.

They all seemed to think he was the next Jagged Stone. Chase couldn't see the connection because Luka played more acoustic folk and contemporary rather than electric rock and grit.

Chase unclipped his trombone and ran through a few scales and arpeggios. His whole face buzzed, from his lips to his cheeks and nose. His lungs strained and he crescendoed. He decrescendoed.

The guitar switched styles, going from full chords to a more bare plucking of strings.

Some low-key smooth jazz, huh?

Trombone was one of the more difficult instruments to do an improvised jazz solo on. Since it didn't have any keys, a player had to articulate every note. That made it a little challenging for it to sound smooth and connected, which was a big part of the jazz style.

Chase would make it work.

And without words, his mood was lifted.

He set his trombone down a few minutes later, heart thumping and needing to catch his breath. It's been a while since he played like that. His chops were already feeling a little sore. He smirked when he made eye contact with Luka.

The blue haired boy stood up from where he was leaning against the wall. Chase set his trombone down and went to meet Luka in the middle. They clasped arms firmly. It was comradery. It was an acknowledgement of skill and of a fellow music nerd.

They both thoroughly ignored the Wii theme music that had been playing on the xylophone for the past ten minutes and started discussing the music theory associated with the film score of How to Train Your Dragon.

. . .

Nino had come to realise throughout his life, that everyone listens to music. Maybe it was less of a sudden realization and more of an understanding of how the world works. There wasn't some point in his life where he learned it. There were never questions asking if someone listened to music. It was always what kind of music were they listening to.

Nino was more outgoing as a kid. He knew this and decided that he would listen to all sorts of music, just so he could have something to talk about with strangers. Pop, rock, country, it didn't matter to him. He listened to it all - he enjoyed most of it, too. He became more mellow as he grew older, but his love for music only grew.

His dream was to become a DJ. Or a composer, arranger, musician. He didn't really care about the name. He wanted to connect people together through a beat and a melody and rhythm. He wanted people to understand each other without words.

He loved music with all his heart.

Yet here he was, sitting on a bench with his headphones tucked away in his bag. The halls were swarming with kids, but the crowd was starting to thin out. His friends were nowhere in sight. That was kind of the point, though. Nino needed some time to think. Some time alone.

People kept telling him it wasn't his fault. That he wasn't the one to blame. That it was Hawkmoth's fault. And it was Hawkmoth's fault. They were telling the truth. It was all completely out Nino's control.

Nino really wasn't concerned if it was his fault or not. He knew it wasn't.

The part that bothered him was he didn't know what the it was. He didn't know what it was that he did. People kept telling him it wasn't his fault. He knew that. But he still had done it.

Whatever it was, it had left Keana quiet. That wasn't necessarily out of character for the american girl, but she was brooding over something. And she seemed rather half hearted when doing anything.

Whatever it was made Adrien stay home from school the next day. (Nino knew it wasn't by choice. Nino was certain that Adrien wouldn't stay home willingly even in a zombie apocalypse.)

The bell rang. Nino stayed where he was

Nino wasn't dumb. He knew he wasn't the smartest, but he wasn't dumb. Nino saw Alya's live feed on the Ladyblog. It was a pretty good video, captured a lot of what went down, as soon as the hero's showed up at least. He looked ridiculous and threw these red bubbles that vaporized things. Or did they explode? Alya hadn't focused on where they landed- she was focused on the action.

Nino didn't know what happened, not really. All he knew was his frustration. He had been texting Keana and then- nothing. He had woken up with Ladybug and Chat Noir standing over him. It was a confusing situation. It had only happened once before, with Stoneheart. Nino had half thought that Stoneheart was the end of it, especially after the month or so of nothing.

He had no idea he'd be the next one akumatized.

The bench creaked and shifted.

Nino shouldered his bag, fully intending to move benches since someone-

It was Ivan.

"Hey, dude," Nino greeted, halfheartedly. Nino put his bag down.

Ivan grunted, simply settling next to the DJ.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Nino questioned.

Ivan looked at him. "I could say the same to you."

"You don't need to stick around for me."

"I want to."

Silence fell between them. Neither were quite sure what to say. Nino wasn't sure if there was anything to say.

Ivan coughed. "I just wanted to -er, I'm not the best with these sorts of things, sorry-"

Nino looked at the giant of a teen. The boy's face was a little flushed and he refused to make eye contact.

"I just wanted to say, I get it. The whole things and the looks and the speeches and- If someone tells you it's not your fault, they ought to believe it themselves, right?" Ivan shook his head. His big hands were clenched before he glanced down and shook them out. "Sorry, that probably didn't make much sense."

Nino smiled, just a little. "Nah, dude, you're fine. I know what you mean."

Ivan shifted. "And- and- if you ever need anything, you can come to me. I'll try."

The quiet was back, this time it felt more like a weighted blanket- soft, warm, comforting- rather than awkward and stifling. One of the classes behind them had polite clapping coming through the walls. Another one sounded like there was some sort of hot headed debate going on over some dumb topic- like if water was wet or if a hotdog was sandwich.

"I will," Nino said. "And you can come to me if you ever need a bro's hand."

Ivan nodded and most of his nerves seemed to melt away. "I know you like music, I made a song for Mylene, earlier. Do you want to hear it...?"

Nino's smile grew wider. "Dude I'm always willing to lend an ear."

It wasn't too bad. The beat could be fixed and some of the pitches were a little wonky, but Nino wasn't there to criticize. He complimented the gentle giant on his lyrics and rhythms and passion.

"We should make a club." Nino said. It was sometime after first hour, around fifteen minutes into second. "Exclusive, only akumatized people can join. To help."

Ivan nodded. "To help."

They skipped the rest of the day.

. . .

Adrien wasn't at school the day after the attack. Or the next

Nino wasn't in any of his classes two days after the attack. Ivan left in the middle of first hour to 'go to the bathroom' and he never came back. She saw both of them sitting on the benches during passing period. They both had headphones over their ears.

Marinette didn't bother them.

Tikki had been quiet.

Marinette supposed it made sense. The Kwami's mad at her. If they had swapped roles Marinette was sure she'd feel the same way. Of course, Marinette already was mad at herself, so it wasn't much of a stretch.

Halfway through the second day after Bubbler, she was in Madam Bustier's literature class. Not much of a surprise, because she always was in literature halfway through a school day. It was just before lunch, so it was one of the classes that people had a hard time focusing in. The problem was generally mirrored after lunch as well. Just like people had problems with the first and last periods of the day.

Mllm. Bustier was introducing a time period typical genre for the 1700s. Genre as in romanticism or postmodern, not like fantasy or horror. Some of the vocabulary she was dropping was pretty high end. Marinette kept expecting to hear whispers in English, but the room was silent save for Kim snoring and the grating sound of Chloe filing her nails.

Marinette glanced behind and let her gaze fall on Keana. The half polynesian girl (Marinette paid attention enough to the dinner conversation to pick that up. Not that it wasn't obvious enough since her dad had a sleeve of traditional tattoos on his arm) had her face propped up on her hand. Her eyes were half lidded, even more than usual, and her eyes seemed to be staring at nothing.

She was completely checked out.

Marinette suspected that she wasn't doing much better in her other classes. The bluenette looked at her notes and bit her lip. This will give her an advantage. If she can't keep up with her school work, then Adrien won't-

Adrien won't-

Marinette shook her and her fingernails dug crescents into her palms.

That was pointless.

Because the truth is Adrien doesn't care about his friend's grades. The only thing Marinette will get from antagonising Keana is Adrien's bad side.

The bell rang and Marinette escaped to lunch.

"Where you going, girl?" Alya questioned. "You didn't look too good last period."

Marinette waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no! I feel fine! I j-just have a test to make up for Madam Mendeleev." She didn't.

Alya winced. "Yeah, those are the worst. Good luck!"

They parted ways, Alya going to eat her lunch, and Marinette going to eat her lunch in a different spot, hopefully with no one around to witness her. (That made it sound like she was planning a murder or something. No, she definitely just wanted privacy.)

She made it to a hidden part of the library, where the dust was thick and a few of the books had strange spots of gray on them. It felt older than it had a right to be, more like an eccentric antique store rather than a school library that had plastic stickers on every book and laminated sheets covering a few book covers. There was even a section of carpet that was dull and discolored. Marinette didn't want to know what stained it.

"Tikki," Marinette felt the word reverberate in the small corner they were in and she lowered her voice. "I'm ready for that talk."

The spotted kwami drifted from her holder's bag. The kwami's big, blue eyes were not set in a glare. They were not widened with surprise. They were not squinting with joy. They were not creased in concern.

She was dispassionate and her face was void of any emotion.

"Marinette," Tikki was hovering in the air, yet she was so still it was like she was on solid ground. "I'm going to tell you a story."

Marinette tilted her head. That was not where she expected this to go.

"Kwamis come into existence when new concepts are made. I have been alive since the beginning. The kwami of destruction followed hardly a second after me. I witnessed the formation of stars, the explosion of supernovas that brought more to the universe. I saw asteroids colliding together, getting destroyed all to create a planet. Earth was one of those, and Earth was the one we all chose to observe."

"It took millennials for life to arrive on the planet. More and more kwamis came into existence as it bloomed. I watched humans take their first steps towards civilization."

Tikki smiled, softly. "I was soft towards them. It was like they were a culmination of everything we kwamis were. They destroyed, they created, they evolved, and they sought knowledge. They joined to from civilizations and they fought and waged war It was descent and unity and it was beauty and chaos."

"I loved them. I had grown attached; we all had, I was just the first one to realize. I wanted to talk to them. But I couldn't, we couldn't. So we talked to the Kwami of Dreams and she agreed to help. She sent visions to a curious Chinese mage."

Marinette's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, mage? Magic exists?"

Tikki raised an eyebrow.

"W-well, obviously- but I meant- I thought people needed miraculous to use magic! Because you guys power us. How was that guy supposed to use magic if miraculous didn't exist?"

Tikki sighed. "That's a story for another time. May I continue?"

Marinette nodded, a bit sheepish.

"Once I gained a miraculous, others followed suit. Several refused to be bound, like Time and Gravity. And others bonded strangely to their miraculous, even though there was nothing different with the spell used. Their effects were different on their holder- they were more difficult to remove and they could channel more power through their users. Those were called charms."

Tikki faltered, and seemed rather wistful all of a sudden. She shook her head and Marinette didn't dare to breathe a word

"I digress. What I wanted to tell you about was my first holder. Her name was Zhōu Chun Mei and she was the most beautiful woman of her time."

"She was inspired, she was full of love for everything around her. She reminded me so much of myself. I begged the mage to let me be with her. He didn't understand. The other kwamis didn't understand either. They thought it was enough to just interact with people. I wanted to go further and none of them cared to stop me, even if they didn't understand."

Tikki didn't really understand it either, the burning need for companionship, for the closeness the bond provided.

"The village she was from was poor. There were constant skirmishes and battles. It brought honor and glory and resources and pain and misery and strife. She wanted to help, really. We would transform and bestow gifts upon the people. The people thought she was a benevolent spirit and other villages came to seek her shelter. It grew into a city and fortune smiled upon it."

Marinette smiled, but didn't quite understand what Tikki was trying to get at. This was a happy ending. Something was missing, and Marinette was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"It didn't stay that way for long."

There it was.

"As the city grew, it became unstable. A city could only expand so much back then before it couldn't function anymore. As the population increased, the slums did too. Poverty began to reign once again. It seemed there were more people in the streets than there were houses. But no disease came because of our continued presence. Chun Mei didn't stop giving gifts, believing she could fix the problem somehow. Nothing she did worked."

"Riots broke out. The original settlers believed they were a blessed people, that the Ladybug Spirit had chosen them. They believed everyone else desired to take advantage of them. Dissention grew. People started to split up and take sides. Homeowners were considered high class. And they believed those who lived in the streets wanted to steal the gifts. The Homeless just wanted a sanctuary."

"Ladybug was siding with the original people. It made sense, she knew them, and was using her gift for them. I-"

Tikki shook her head. "It was a massacre. Creation without Destruction is cancer."

Marinette's eyes widened. "I-I'm not sure I understand... What does this story have to do with the mistakes I made earlier?"

"Marinette, what do you think the ideal traits the holder of the Ladybug miraculous should have?"

"Um," She blinked, thrown by the sudden topic shift. "Creativity, but that's a little obvious, isn't it. Bravery, Compassion?"

"You have a few of them," Tikki acknowledged. "But you missed the most important ones: responsibility and a clear mind. Chun Mei was impulsive and let her emotions control her. It led to the downfall for an entire region... And to her demise."

"I don't want you to end up like she did. You need to place the greater good above your own desires and goals."

"You want me to - to give up my dreams? You w-want me to give up on Adrien?"

Tikki shook her head and Marinette felt a wave of relief come over her. "It's a matter of priorities. If you don't prioritise defeating the akuma over your hobbies, ambitions, and your crush then you may never have the chance to see those dreams to fruition."

Marinette nodded, determination set in her jaw. "I understand. If I can't complete my duties to defeat Hawkmoth and protect the city, then there will be no future."

"And I'm not saying you have to give up on your dreams, but... Could you tone your obsession with Adrien down?"

The disguised superheroine blinked. "Obsession? It's not an obsession."

Tikki raised an eyebrow. "You have pictures of him all over your wall like it's some sort of shrine and you hope to summon him."

"It's only on one wall- that doesn't mean-"

"You have his entire schedule on your wall, even though you have it memorized."

Marinette sighed. "You might be right..."

"Then the schedule is the first to go. Pictures, too," Tikki added.

Marinette gave a pained whine. "Can I keep one, just to inspire me in the morning?"

"Sure," Tikki readily agreed. "The giant one on the billboard is yours to feast your eyes on."

Marinette groaned, all exaggerated and such to bring a form of levity after the somber conversation.

The kwami of creation rolled her eyes. "Just go and free yourself from this addiction."

The bluenette looked affronted. "I can stop when I want! This doesn't control me!" Then she stomped off, arms swinging high.

And Tikki floated in the strange corner of the library for a moment longer. Her blue eyes running over every single grey spot that marred the area. The atmosphere that felt as this place should be decades older than it actually was. Yet she sensed a disturbing absence of... anything really. No explanation, either.

Then she zipped after her holder, only casting one last glance.

. . .

Chloe couldn't help but be... disappointed in Adrien's new "friends."

She had spared them most troubles, considering Adrien had chose them (for reasons that were beyond her understanding). They didn't follow him, or take pictures of him, or fan over him. They didn't do anything to get his attention. So Chloe had given them the benefit of the doubt. She let Adrien grace them with his presence.

...He didn't deserve another person telling him what to do, anyway.

And he definitely didn't need friends who were around him just to take advantage of his fame and fortune. Chloe could tell with just a look if someone would do that. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was one of those. The girl wasn't just a fashion wannabe, but she also didn't show any interest on the first day. Then the very next day the brat couldn't keep her hands to herself! It didn't take much for Chloe with her high intellect to come up with the exact reason for this. The girl had obviously looked up Adrien Agreste (or just saw the billboard) and wanted a piece of his prestige for herself.

Chloe huffed and waved her hand dismissively at the thought. That girl is too much of a creep to get his attention anyway.

What really made her upset was how she thought Adrien's friends would be a little more competent than they were. First the wannabe musician had gotten himself turned into one of those freaky monsters! Obviously he couldn't be trusted around Adrikins if he couldn't keep himself in check. Chloe was better off just hiring some people to be Adrien's friends- at least they'd have dedication to the job.

Not only that, but the american girl was hopeless. While Chloe appreciated the fact she didn't drool over Adrikins, that did not excuse her choice in clothes - she consistently, unironically wore Hawaiian shirts with sweatpants. Not only that but she was so ridiculously stupid that she couldn't even see that Adrien was in danger!

And Chloe knew that Adrien, no matter how smart he was, was dumb as fu-

"C-Chloe?" It was Sabrina. Chloe rolled her eyes and put away her nail file.

"What, Sabrina?" Chloe flipped her hair.

"I w-was wondering w-what you wanted me t-to do for the p-project."

Chloe tutted. "Sabrina, I was busy, couldn't you see that? Besides, don't you have a folder for my interests or something?" Chloe waved a flawlessly manicured hand in the direction of Sabrina's bag.

"Y-y-yeah, but none of them m-matched the assignm-ment." The red head wasn't maintaining eye contact.

Chloe flicked her nose and watched her sputter. "You need to work on your confidence if you want to work for me, or even other people like me. Stop stuttering, square your shoulders, and always look people in the eyes. You'd be a lot harder to boss around if you did that."

Sabrina nodded meekly and Chloe suppressed her frustration. She had been trying to help the girl for years, yet none of her lessons actually stuck! She was hopeless, especially if pulling double the workload for two years still didn't make her grow a backbone.

"It's for history c-class," Sabrina winced, "we need to summarize an influential figure in World War 1."

"Just choose some person who has class." Chloe blinked, then expounded, "On the winning side, of course."

"Of course," Sabrina agreed, bobbing her head. And the silence returned as Sabrina began to excitedly shuffle through papers.

When Chloe had first assigned the girl to do her work as well, she had expected for the girl to stand up for herself, not become addicted to schoolwork!

The blond rolled her eyes and kicked her feet up on her bed, taking out her file again. Her fingernails were a little uneven and it was bothering her perfectionist eye.

Now, what to do about the american and the musician?

. . .

Realistically, Adrien knew what was coming. He expected it to happen for a while.

"Adrien," Nathalie was standing in his doorway, stiff as always. "Your father wants to see you in his office."

Honestly, he was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner. But at the same time, he really wasn't.

Adrien rolled off his bed and turned his TV off (it was just the news going over the attack, nothing he didn't already know). He made the trek to his door, smoothing his hair as he did so. It wouldn't be good to face his father without at least looking put together.

Nathalie led him down the hallway, looking poised and professional as always. But Adrien could tell from how she gripped the clipboard that she was just expertly hiding any anger or frustration she had. Adrien wasn't nearly as good as she was as controlling his emotions, but he liked to think he was good at redirecting the energy they bring. He was very productive when he was angry.

The walk was silent save for the sound of footsteps and breathing. The house was silent, no matter what Adrien tried to do. The walls stood tall, oppressive and stifling in a way only indifference can cause, and the paintings leered down at him, judgemental and callous (just like his father). It wasn't anything Adrien wasn't used to, he hardly remembered a time in his life when there was joy in the halls of the manor. It had only become more apparent, now that he had something positive to compare it to.

Nathalie stopped at the familiar yet unfamiliar door that led to Father's office. It seemed even more dreadful than usual, which was hard to manage because it always seemed foreboding.

Nathalie clutched her clipboard tighter and any subtle signs of her frustration vanished completely as if they were never there in the first place. She knocked on the door twice and opened the door without waiting for a reply. It might seem rude to not wait for a reply, but Father liked Nathalie's efficiency and he didn't usually bother to reply anyway. It was more to announce their presence rather than to ask for permission- every moment of his time was practically scheduled after all.

She led Adrien inside the office and it was empty of personal touches, as per usual. The only thing that clued anyone that it Gabriel Agreste's office was that the man himself was sitting in the chair. Nathalie closed the door behind them with a soft click and she moved to stand to the left of it impassively.

Father's hands were folded in front of him, even though he was the poster child of posture. Adrien suddenly felt shaky, because if that wasn't a sign of Father's... negative emotions, Adrien wasn't sure what was.

"Hello, Father," Adrien greeted, because nothing was a better start to a conversation than a nice, neutral-

Father held up one of his hands and all of Adrien's pre prepared words died in his throat. He swallowed.

"Adrien," His gaze was sharp and methodical, a surgical knife that was poised and ready to cut open Adrien's brain. And it was already going for an incision. "I am pulling you from school."

"B-but Father! I was learning so much a-and-"

His eyes narrowed further. "They are unable to protect you. They couldn't even prevent an akuma."

At this Adrien's fists clenched. Because it wasn't the school's fault that Nino was akumatized into a villain.

Father continued. "And your friends are untrustworthy, since they clearly cannot control themselves, much less protect and have a positive influence on you."

Adrien's teeth grit. It wasn't Nino's fault he had emotions! How was he supposed to know he'd be the next victim after nearly a month of inactivity!? It wasn't his fault!

Adrien opened his mouth and-

"This isn't open for discussion!" Father ordered. "You will stay and continue to be homeschooled and-"

It isn't Nino's fault! It isn't Keana's fault either! Adrien seethed. Keana had actually warned Adrien how serious everything was. When Adrien had been too dense and dumb to realise that anything was wrong. When Adrien had failed to understand that Nino wasn't really there at all.

If it is anyone's fault it's-

"-you will pick up all the lessons you dropped to make room for school. And you will begin a more strict diet, you clearly have been sneaking food not on your list-"

"This is your fault," Adrien had slipped out of his passive smile and a dark scowl had twisted his face.

Father's eyes had snapped over to Adrien, and his impassive stare narrowed more.

"Adrien," he said as if his own son was a mere annoying fly buzzing in his ear, "if you are going to interrupt me then speak up."

"I said," Adrien very nearly snarled, "that this is your fault!"

Father's eyes held anger, even fury, but his eyebrows were creased as if he were confused. Or worried.

"You're the reason Nino got akumatized in the first place! He got angry on my behalf!" And Adrien pointed an accusing finger. "Just because you wouldn't let them throw a tame party for me, not even with adult supervision!"

"Adrien-"

"No!" He nearly screamed. "And now you want to take away everything from me, because of something you caused!"

"Adrien!" His father growled.

And Adrien froze.

Because he had never heard that tone from him before. It was always cold and dispassionate, never fond or warm. And never hot enough to burn.

"You are blaming me for something a terrorist caused! I am not the one who akumatized your... friend. You are being entirely illogical!"

And Adrien hesitated, but fired back. "So are you!"

And Father withdrew, all the heat all the fire, and only ice remained. "You are grounded."

Adrien's eyes widened. "What are you going to ground me from if I'm not in school?"

"I made a miscalculation, you were correct in pointing it out, even if your methods were inexcusable. You will merely be staying home for the remainder of the week."

"F-Father?!" Adrien's mouth dropped open.

"Your argument held merit, that is all. But You will be taking a self defence class, in light of recent events that have transpired. You are dismissed."

"T-thank you, Father!" Adrien beamed, all traces of rage gone. He left the office practically skipping.

(If Adrien had known that man had just lied to him through his teeth, he would be acting differently.

If he had known that his father better, he might have caught on.

But he didn't because he was merely a child who was mislead and manipulated, again and again, and even this apparent victory had merely been an attempt to drive loyalty and trust into the center of his son's heart. Not that Gabriel Agreste really needed loyalty.)

(Nathalie knew- she could guess, at least.

And she was pissed.)

. . .

It was dark outside. The sun had set a little while ago, and the chill of night had just set in. My parents were in bed and all the lights in the house were off. I couldn't find it in me to close my eyes. I was buzzing with a sort of nervous energy, like I had a test the next day or something. Which I didn't.

Knight was perched on my dresser, the only thing that made them stand out from the darkness was their glowing white eyes.

"Should I tell Chase?" I whispered. And waited.

I only got a brief wave of indifference in return. Which made sense, since Knight was indifferent to most things, outside of curiosity. Unless that thing was a threat of some sort. Case in point: the Bubbler.

I sighed. "I probably should tell him, since he already knows about you. It won't be hard to figure it out once I start..."

Start what? Helping the heroes? I'll just get in their way.

I shook my head. It's better to try to do something than to do nothing at all.

I got up and tiptoed over to the trap door. I turned the latch and lifted it up at a snail's pace, hoping it wouldn't creak. A pitch black void stared up at me. It was like I had just opened a portal to the shadow realm on my floor. That in itself didn't scare me- I was more freaked out that if I fell down said hole, I'd probably get some broken bones or something. Especially if my limbs got caught in the ladder rungs.

I shook the thought from my head.

"Chase?" I whispered. "Are you still awake?"

The sound of shifting sheets reached my ears. A voice called back. "Yeah, what are you still doing up?"

"..."

"Like- don't you religiously go to bed on time on school nights? You're pretty paranoid about that stuff."

"Well-" I started, not exactly sure how to phrase it. "I was gonna..."

"You need to use the bathroom or somethin' else?"

Just rip off the bandaid. "I was going to transform."

There was silence for a brief moment, then abrupt sounds of movement, like Chase had just sat up in bed. "Transform? Like with Knight?"

"Who else would I transform with?" I snarked back, because he was being unnecessarily obtuse.

He grumbled something under his breath that I didn't quite catch. "And you're doing this now?"

"Yes," I rolled my eyes.

"I'm coming up," he announced. The shuffling increased and soon came the tell tale sound of the ladder getting climbed. Chase's face came into the dim lighting in my room. "How is it so bright in here? The lights are off."

"Maybe because I don't have blackout curtains covering my windows. Like some sort of vampire, you freak."

Chase made a face that I couldn't quite make out in the darkness. "I go outside more often than you do."

"Shut up."

Which was about the time Knight appeared out of nowhere, like the lovely eldritch being they were. With the darkness in the room, all they had to do is open their eyes to make their presence known.

Chase full body flinched and I barked a laugh. He glared at me. "Keep your abomination under control."

"You're just jealous you don't have one."

"You shouldn't objectify..." He struggled to come up with a word to describe Knight, "...creatures."

"My statement still stands." I paused. "Close the trapdoor, will ya? I don't know what's gonna happen and I don't want it to wake up Mom or Dad somehow."

It closed softly with a muffled thump, and suddenly it seemed as grave as a tomb in my room. Like every drop of humor and good nature was blocked out the moment the exit was cut off. All that was left was nervous energy.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Chase didn't have any trace of humor in his eyes, only worry and concern. "If you make yourself known, you could become a target."

I nodded. "I don't think I'd be able to handle the guilt if I chose to do nothing."

I already had a small taste of the guilt. It was overbearing and crushing. Like Atlas with the weight of the world trying to crush him into paste.

Chase didn't seem satisfied with my answer. "There are already two heroes, it's not your duty to protect the city."

"Knowing that doesn't make me feel any better."

There was a silence, thick and cruel, before Chase talked again.

"You're my little sister," He rasped in that nostalgic tone of his. "I know I can't stop you, especially since I don't exactly have my own magical power granting piece of jewelry. But just... be safe, alright?"

"...yeah."

(The metaphor of Icarus is generally used as a cautionary tale of pride and hubris: flying close to the sun will melt your wax wings and be your end. But the second part of it warned of flying too close to the sea, or else the waves and salt will destroy the wings. To try to be safe, to become apathetic, is a pitfall in and of itself.

Life comes with risks and rewards, success and failures. To coast by on the bare minimum is to doom yourself. Because while you stay safe, you get to watch as the rest of society gets burned and crashes. Except, you are a part of the machine that runs the world, every human is, whether they like it or not. You can't escape the consequences if something dooms the masses, you can only do your part to keep it functioning.)

My part clearly wasn't as a civilian anymore. I believed things happen for a reason, for what reason I couldn't say for sure. The reason didn't really matter, but everyone was interconnected in one way or another- people's choices and decisions in life were so interconnected with others that trying to isolate one thread from the web of the world was impossible. Like trying to untie the gordian knot.

I couldn't imagine what it would feel like if I continued to refuse to help. I would be crushed like an empty can in the deep ocean by the guilt.

Chase nodded.

"Hey, Knight?" Two unblinking eyes stared at me. "What was the transformation phrase?"

v҉o҉i̸d҈ r̷i̵s̵e̶

I took a shaky breath, wondering if it was too late to change my mind. No, it was too late. It might have been too late the moment I stumbled (read: fell) into that strange underground chamber and met Knight. Kinda like it was too late the moment Peter Parker got bit by that radioactive spider.

"Knight, void rise."

For a moment, there was no reaction, like the world had paused and was holding its breath.

Then Knight flew straight towards Keana's sternum and disappeared. There wasn't any noise or sparkles or flashes of light. Black particles appeared, like the world was one of those old film reels with the bad snowflakes.

Then darkness bloomed from my chest. It enveloped all of me, even my clothes. It vaguely reminded me of the venom symbiote from Spiderman- except less creepy and slimey. It looked like I was getting an expensive makeover with Vantablack S-VIS.

As quickly as it came, it retreated, and I was left standing awkwardly in a room.

"Huh." Chase said. "I almost expected some sort of pose or something. You don't really look much like some sort of magical girl superhero."

He was right. My clothes had been replaced by a drab slate gray cloak that was ragged and torn. There was a scarf that was a bit more blue, but it wasn't bright either. My hands were covered by black gloves that almost reached my elbows and my shoes were replaced by pitch black boots that went to my knees. Underneath my cloak was a dark grey bodysuit that wasn't quite skintight along with two black straps that criss crossed my torso. And-

"I wasn't expecting the mask." Chase remarked. "Like, I know you'd have some sort of mask but not..." He gestured at my face.

I reached up hesitantly. I didn't feel a strap securing it to my head, but there was definitely something there. My hands traced along the edges and I pulled it off easily. I flipped it around and was met with a bone white mask with two dark, circle eye holes. Two horns were coming from both sides of the top of the mask- they looked exactly like Knight's own horns.

"You're gonna scare the kids," Chase joked.

I opened my mouth retort, only for no sound to come out. ". . ."

Chase looked mildly concerned about my lack of comeback.

My eyes widened and I gestured wildly, trying to find out a way to show him I couldn't speak. I reached up and put my hands around my throat.

His eyes widened. "You're choking?! I know the heimlich, quick-"

He approached me and I swiftly waved my hands at him to stop. I did not want to get punched in the gut.

"You're not? What is it then?"

I opened my mouth and made my hands into a big X over it.

Chase stared and I rolled my eyes. "...You can't speak?"

I gave him a thumbs up. He did such a good job, I wryly thought, he deserves a cookie. Or a gold star.

That seemed to confuse him even more, and he fumbled for some sort of explanation. "Do you think it's because of Knight? I don't know how that transformation worked, but Knight can't speak and you kinda merged with them so..."

I shrugged. It made sense that I picked up a few of Knight's quirks, since we basically fused.

"How helpful," Chase grumbled.

I gave him a look that was meant to be interpreted as 'how am I supposed to know how this works?' Instead of being reasonable, Chase raised an eyebrow.

"It's kind of hard to read your expressions with a mask on."

I have another mask? I glanced down at the mask in my hands and up at him questionly.

"The over one's a black domino," He explained. "I don't think you really need it, the eye color change is weird enough."

Eye color change?!

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to see your own eyes," he mused, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Your scelcra are black and your iris and pupil are white- kinda glowing. I couldn't even see your eyes when you were wearing the other one. It was kinda creepy."

Good to know I'm nightmare fuel. I smirked. Or Knightmare fuel.

I felt a faint sense of amusement that was distinctly not my own. Knight?

There was no solid reply.

"Your hair's weird too."

I groaned, though it sounded more like an annoyed exhale of air.

Chase seemed to take that as permission to keep talking. "I can't tell the difference between individual strands. It looks like one solid mass, even though I know it's not. Kinda trippy."

I slid off one of my gloves (I was not going to run a glove through my hair) and found my body suit ended at my wrists. I ran a hand through my hair- it felt like hair, if a bit cool to touch, but the texture was the same. Then I pulled a lock to my face to examine it and found that Chase was right. It just looked like a blob, like it ate any light that tried to give it any definition.

Weird.

Like any of it isn't weird. I sighed and twirled the lock of hair around my finger. I should just embrace it- especially since I had this funny feeling that life wouldn't be getting any less weird.

Detransforming was about as uneventful as the initial transformation. I just had to express my desire to change back and moments later I was back in my regular clothes and my not-kwami had whizzed out of my charm. I supposed my link with Knight carried over in the costume- how else were they supposed to know when I wanted to turn back or use-

I face palmed and groaned. Why didn't I check to see if I had a superpower? Did I seriously transform just to see how I looked?

Chase was already back downstairs and Knight's eyes were droopy.

I was tired, too.

Tomorrow, I promised myself. Then sleep overtook me and all I knew was the blackness of unconsciousness and the absence of dreams.

A/N: Honestly this chapter is a mixed bag for me. I like certain things, and I don't like others. I feel like the first transformation for Keana is a little anticlimactic- but she's such a cautious girl that she wouldn't have the confidence to pull of crazy stuff if she didn't start small.

This chapter is a work on characterization- Chase is always hard to write because he can carry a grudge, which makes it difficult for me to show the audience any solid characterization other than big brother and rage.

I liked the Adrien and Nino scene well enough, even if I felt like both of them might have been a bit rushed.

Marinette takes her first step from being creepy to being more self aware and responsible! I'm so excited because Marinette has so much potential to be really cool- she just needs to have a few bad habits nipped in the bud.

Anyway-

Comment what you liked for each part. I read each and everyone, even if I don't respond. I hope you peeps enjoyed :D