Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir

Chapter 9: The Calm Before the Storm

…..

Ladybug and Company are about to find out that, while ignorance can be bliss, it can also be death. Or both.

…...

I don't own this franchise. Do I really have to say that every time?

….

The Calm Before the Storm

Damien was relaxing when his doorbell rang. Actually, it could hardly be said he was relaxing, as such, since he was tense as a board. He knew she would show up any time now, and the thought did nothing to ease his mind.

She could be a handful, when she wanted to be, which was most of the time.

But when his doorbell rang, there was no doubt as to who it was. He could've sensed their Kirlians three countries away.

"Oh! Hello, Marinette, Ayla." He did his best to act like he hadn't been expecting them. "Er, to what do I owe the pl-*"

"This." said Marinette, handing him the scrap of paper and the three pendants they'd scooped from the box: hers, Ayla's, and…

He looked at the paper for a minute. Then, "Do you know which one it was attached to?"

"What? No, one of these three, but that's not the poin-*"

"It's every point! Claire must've sent you these, didn't she?" When they nodded, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. "Claire, Claire, Claire. She's a dear girl but sometimes she exhibits all the tact and subtlety of a nuclear powered pile-driver."

"But what are-*"

"Look, come on in, but I have to make a phone call or two. I'll…explain what I can when I can, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and crossed over to his recliner, pulling out his cell.

"How come you don't use that phone, the red one?" asked Ayla.

He was busy searching his contacts. "It's only for very long distance calls. Oh, here we go." They could both hear a beep!-as the number was completed. "Hello, Claire? 'S me. Yeah, I know that's what most people would say, but come on. Look, you know those pendants you sent to Marinette's people? Well, they kinda got things a little mixed up, and now we don't know which one is for Cat Noir. Yeah, I know but they didn't know. I think they've just now figured out that I know…certain things." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marinette pale. He sighed. "Is there some way you could help me out here? I know it'd be dangerous to put the wrong pendent on someone…you can? Bless you, Claire, that'll save a world of problems. Yes. Yes, I'll tell 'em. You bet. I, er, may have to…explain a few things to 'em, but…" Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ayla's expression firming up, "Make that will certainly have to explain some things, yes, I know, Dee will kill me. Again. But there's nothing I can do…no, no, no! You didn't do anything wrong, Claire! Don't even think that, not for a second! Right. Exactly. Yes. I agree. Look, I gotta go, I'll call again later, okay? Okay. Yeah, you, too. G'bye." And he sighed as he pressed the "Call End" button. Leaned back against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. "She's sending three more. You can just discard those, or leave them with me, because, since one of them is not attuned to you, it could be dangerous."

"Dangerous? Dangerous how? And we still need to talk. Why did your Claire send these things-and the 'special' one-to us?"

Now he looked up, a resigned expression on his face. May as well get on with it.

I sure am gonna miss Paris.

"Because," he said, "Who better to get an item designated solely for Cat Noir than his partner, Ladybug?"

Marinette gasped slightly. Her worst fears… "I, I don't know what you m-*"

"And if for some reason she can't," he continued inexorably, "there's always her adjunct, Rena Rouge." He turned his gaze on Ayla, who actually took a step back. He leaned back again. "And believe me: Claire wouldn't have done this, nor risk exposure like this, if there weren't some very good reason.

"Unfortunately, there is."

…..

There was a brief pause. Nobody moved. There was no doubt in either girls' mind that Damien knew their secret identities. Had that been the purpose of these strange pendants? To flush them out, to force the issue?

And yet, neither of them could bring themselves to believe that.

"Okay, Damien," said Marinette, "I take it you…know some things?"

"You," he said, pointing at her, "Ladybug. You," he pointed to Ayla, "Rena Rouge. Neither of you needs to worry; I've kept much bigger secrets quite safe.

"But you are not safe. There's been…" He stopped and scratched his head, "I don't know any good way of explaining this without revealing things it would be dangerous for you to know, but I guess, what with all that's happened, I really have no choice."

"Okay," said Ayla, curling into the loveseat, whipping out her notepad.

"That isn't a good idea," he said. At her expression, he continued. "Not unless you want to be considered a candidate for an insane asylum, that is.

"I guess you've figured out by now that I'm, to use the popular expression, not from around here. And no, I don't mean America. Look," he said, sitting forward, "I'm gonna need some time to formulate just what I can and can't tell you. Maybe twenty-four hours. And…" he sighed, "I'll tell you all I can without divulging any other, more dangerous secrets. You two ought to know that certain knowledge can be dangerous, and I don't want that for you. So.

"But in the meantime, should any of you encounter anything really…out of the ordinary? No, that's not strong enough. Way out of the ordinary, I…" he paused, "Dee will kill me, but she probably would have anyway." He glanced nervously at the red phone on its stand. "Anything extraordinary…call me. I know you can handle, well, most things, but there are things you can't. Anything that seems exceptionally monstrous…just call me. Okay?" He got up and ushered them to the door. "You'll know what I'm talking about, I think, should you encounter it. Especially anything to do with fire, or what seems like fire."

"Twenty-four hours?" Ayla pressed.

"Give or take a little."

Once they'd gone, he went over to his dining room table and sat with his head in his hands. It was happening all over again, just like last time: just as he got settled in…

Dee had warned him about those K sub 1 lines. And these were Magentas, to boot. He could sense them, in a roundabout way, but not to the degree she could.

And any single one of them could so easily spell the end of the planet he was currently residing on.

Maybe calling himself a "Jonah" hadn't been mere hyperbole, after all. Disaster seemed to follow him…he couldn't have it endangering his friends. Although none of them knew it, they were all in, not just mortal, but immortal danger.

He sighed. Nothing to do for it now. It was getting dark; he'd go out and just do a quick roundabout, make sure there wasn't anything…too bad going down. The night air might help clear his head. He could think about what he was to tell them. He was a little surprised Dee hadn't called already, but he didn't want to be here when she did.

He couldn't begin to guess at the events that would unfold before then. Or the effects they'd have on him, and everyone around him.

…..

"I am Froggy, here I come. I'm not afraid of anyone," sang the little boy on the scooter. He'd long since outdistanced his parents, whom he could hear in the distance, calling for him. As a child raised in a permissive, even doting household, he couldn't see any danger in what he was doing. They were simply being grownups, always wanting to spoil his fun.

In the gathering dusk, he spotted something over by the playground. "I am Froggy, here I come. I'm not afraid of anyone." It looked like it deserved a look-see.

He didn't see the eyes in the dark, glowing softly yellow, watching his every move.

….

"Well, now what? We've got twenty-four hours to kill."

Marinette sighed. "I may as well go on patrol. But, hey, here's a thought: you can help me out." She whispered her plans to Ayla. "Think you can do that?"

"Yeah. Good going, Mari! Now you're starting to think like an Evil Lord."

….

Cat Noir was perched on the rooftop when he sensed a presence behind him. "Hey, there," he said, turning around. "Good to see you back. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she smiled. "Much better." Just seeing him again, a reminder of her old pre-appendicitis days, actually lifted her spirits. She came up and sat by him on the rooftop. "I understand I couldn't have left Paris in better hands. Anything exciting go on, while I was out?"

He shook his head. "Hardly anything at all. No akumas, no sentimonsters, not even much regular crime. Though that," he paused a moment, scratching his chin, "*-well, perhaps I'm being alarmist."

"Huh?"

"Well, it seems like some of our *ahem*," he coughed, theatrically, into his fist, "less illustrious, or perhaps a better term would be more notorious, members of the criminal community, seem to have disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yeah. Even their, er, business colleagues, shall we say?-have been inquiring-discreetly, of course, through channels-as to their whereabouts. And it seems, from what I've been able to gather, they're simply not around anymore. I guess, really, that's no bad thing…" He frowned. "...Unless, of course, it is."

"Cat?"

He hesitated for a microsecond. Then, lifting his face to the night sky, "It's like…the calm before a storm. I get the distinct impression something's about to happen.

"Something bad."

Ooh. Okay, thought Ladybug. There'd be time to evaluate that later. She knew Cat Noir's senses, bordering on the animal, were not to be disregarded. But what he'd just said…tabbed pretty close to what Damien had warned them about. But all that would have to wait. Her plan with Ayla needed to be enacted now, before something else happened. And Ayla was waiting... "Well…we'll see how that goes. We can't very well investigate peace and quiet, after all. But, hey, I hear I wasn't the only one under the weather recently. What's that girl's name, her family owns the bakery? The one who's about our age?"

"You mean, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"That's the one. How's she been doing, anyway? Since it's so quiet, maybe we could zip over there and check up on her. Whaddayou say?" Alya, your illusion powers better be up for this.

…

"I am Froggy, here I come. I'm not afraid of anyone…" the boy sang as he peddled over to the disturbance. It was dark, and he couldn't see it, but it sounded like a bulldozer crunching its way through something. He hoped it was. He always enjoyed watching bulldozers smash their relentless way through some condemned property. It was fun. Odd, though; even though he was very close by now, he couldn't hear the sound of any motor. Well, maybe one of the newer electric models.

The yellow orbs watched him from the nearby alleyway.

Closer he pedaled. He should be close enough now to see something of the 'dozers, but all he saw was a mass of dark shadows that he presumed to be the condemned buildings. Whatever they were, they were much too large to be the dozers themselves.

Then one of the "buildings" suddenly moved, not like a construct would move, but in an animal sort of way, sitting up and turning a pair of searchlight-bright eyes on him.

He was paralyzed.

The thing reared farther up into the night sky. It was a good three stories tall. Although he still couldn't really see it, both due to the darkness around him, and the thing's own abnormally bright eyes-for they couldn't be anything else-it reminded him of the mad scientist's hair monster in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, the one with no mouth, who always wore those silly sneakers.

This creature didn't look silly at all.

Now it did open its mouth, which was large enough to swallow his scooter whole, but rather than roaring, made an incredibly threatening-sounding whine, like a large machine starting up, and started towards him. But this sound was clearly made by an animal of some sort. He could feel the ground shake. "Mommy…"

Faster than the eye could follow, something bounded out of the shadows, tackling him, and snapping the safety harness in one quick movement. In the next jarring moment, he found himself on his back over in a small grove of trees next to the paved area, looking up at… "Stay here, child," said a woman's voice, a voice that was not his mother's. "Make no sound and do not move. I'll lead them away." Nearby he could hear a crackling, crunching sound that he instinctively knew was the last of his scooter.

Then, as soundless as the shadows it had emerged from, the figure was gone. Again, that dangerous-sounding whine that just had to be organic, and the huge shape dropped the remains of the scooter and thundered off down the walkway, in the direction he'd been headed for earlier, its massive feet-or what seemed to serve as such-actually making loose rocks and pebbles dance with each ponderous step. "Run, lady," he breathed, as softly as he could, mindful of what she'd said. In his mind, he could see her clearly, and would, for the rest of his life. The dark eyes, the kind expression…

…the pointed ears…

…the white fur…

"Beautiful werewolf lady."

…

Far out in space, beyond Earth's moon, a very strange anomaly was darting backward and forward. At its center, the commanding intelligence-which was only partially in control-was puzzled. A signal had been sensed, but now it was impossible to tell where the signal had come from. That was definitely not As Things Should Be; where could the signal have gone?

Well, no matter. More effort would be required, that was simply all there was to it. The end result would be worth it.

….

The next day: Damien had been out all night and all day, worrying about what was going to happen when Dee got here. He knew he couldn't change a thing, but, as is typical of sentient beings everywhere, he couldn't help but worry.

The two most useless words in any language: "Don't worry."

So perhaps he could be forgiven for not taking proper note of some things. One being that Ms. Bustier was not in class, and Mr. Damocles, in his ground-effect wheelchair, was down in front, facing the class. Beside him was an unfamiliar female form with her back turned to the class, organizing her desk. "Class, come to order. Ms. Bustier is out sick, so, for the time being, you'll have a substitute teacher. I'd like you to welcome Miss Adriel." At the mention of her name, the woman turned around.

Since he sat in the back, no one noticed Damien suddenly sit up, alarm on his face.

Miss Adriel was golden. There was really no other word to describe her. There was nothing about her that indicated anything other than human, but it almost seemed like a golden light shone through her skin from below. Her hair was the most perfect blond any of them could remember seeing, and there was an odd expression in the back of her eyes, the expression of one who was always in a good humor. She was so far beyond perfect there were really no words to adequately describe her. Almost every boy in the room fell in love with her at that moment.

Except for Damien. His expression was not one of adoration, but of recognition. And trepidation.

"Good morning, class," said Miss Adriel (and even her voice sounded golden. Had a gold statue been brought to life, like the ancient legend of Galatea, the result would have been Miss Adriel.) "I am Miss Adriel, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Ms. Bustier is indeed sick, but is expected to recover before many more days have passed. Until then, let's make the most of our time together, shall we? Open up your laptops or tablets and click on the link I just sent you." And so class began.

Damien sat scowling in the back.

After class, he deliberately delayed leaving until everyone else had. Then he marched down to the front of the room, where Miss Adriel was busy closing out her computer. "Adriel?"

She turned, smiling. "Damien! How good to see you again!"

He didn't return her smile, though his expression was not unfriendly. "I…sincerely hope you aren't here for the same reason as…last time?"

Her smile slipped slightly. "It isn't wise to discuss…some things…out in the open like this. Perhaps we could go somewhere a tad more private?"

"I'm all for that." He turned and began picking up her books and materials.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"I know," he said, "But it helps my…cover. And I certainly don't mind."

She reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Damien…even though we are supposed to be at opposite ends of the sword, I have never regarded you as an enemy. In fact, in many respects, I've always thought of you as a friend."

He relaxed slightly. "Thank you, Adriel. I've always regarded you as a friend, too. In fact, in many ways, you're probably my best friend, curious as that may seem."

She dropped her arm, and the two of them began walking down the hallway. "Careful. The Black Throne will not be happy with you, for saying that."

"The Black Throne hasn't been happy with me since the late Cretaceous. I guess I've gotten used to it, by now."

…..

"Hmmmm," muttered Ayla, from the other side of the staircase, "Get a load of that."

"A load of what?"

"Damien and that new sub are practically walking hand in hand towards the exit."

Here she goes again, thought Marinette. She'd thought her bestie had outgrown her suspicions…whatever they were. Or at least was content to wait for Damien's explanation.

Evidently not. "So? They know each other. Maybe he knew her in America. Maybe they even dated a couple of times; she doesn't look to be any older than him. Wouldn't be the first time that sort of thing has happened."

"Oh? And I guess it 'wasn't the first time' we got a hidden cypher message in our receipts at that cafe? Yeah, sure. That sort of thing happens aaaallllll the time."

"Don't forget what it was about, Ayla. He could've made big trouble for us; I'm sure the apartment's security cameras would've been…bad. And there we'd be, with a criminal record, for god's sake. And what would we have done about it? Wouldn't that have been kinda…ironic, all things considered?"

"But he didn't, Marinette. I can't help but wonder why."

"'Cause he's a nice guy, that's why."

Ayla continued to stare at the couple walking down the opposite hall. "Nobody," she said, "is that nice."

To be continued...