Chapter Four
Purge Crow
The latest attack by the Paris monster was all anyone could talk about. British nobility, murdered in their own home, the widow and son of late American billionaire Colt Fathom, at that. Some were still skeptical that it was the monster. A crafty assassin - for Fathom had made many enemies - could easily use the monster as a cover for his kills. But the effects were undeniable.
Paris and London had both set mandatory curfews, and armed policemen and soldiers patrolled the streets of both cities at night, ordered to shoot anything that moved. Scarabella and Kitty Noire had been forced to resign from their posts for failing to stop the monster's rampages.
Curiously, Monarch's attacks had stopped altogether in the wake of the monster's attacks. Some believed the monster was one of Monarch's minions. Others, that it had murdered Monarch himself.
This suited the monster, who found itself hiding in the catacombs, puzzling who should be its next prey. It turned to the list it scratched in the walls. Chloé's name was carved out, as was Lila's and Felix's, the mayor's and his wife's. A rusty smile spread across its face as it chose the next name.
It skulked its way to the surface, carefully avoiding the patrols in the night. Bob Roth's office wasn't terribly far, but it had to be unseen.
A blue mask of butterfly-shaped light spread across its face. "I have given you enough time to pursue your personal agenda, Purge Crow, and your gift is well-received. Now fulfill your end, or your powers are forfeit."
The monster - Purge Crow - scoffed as it cut off the link. He could be such a nag. But it didn't matter. It arrived.
The crows circled the upper apartment, trying to find out whatever they could. Asleep. Roth. XY. Its metal smile widened as it slipped into the building, careful not to trigger any alarms.
Payback, like for all the others, would be slow, murderous, and horrifying.
It reached Bob Roth's bedroom, quietly sliding through the half-open door. Its prey laid in bed, completely unaware, sucking his thumb as he held a teddy bear in his massive grip. Too easy. Its metal maw opened, ready to spill his worst fears-
"Cataclysm."
The whisper, soft as summer rain, flitted into Purge Crow's ear, but its effects were immediate and crushing. The touch of destruction had found its charm, and it crumbled into dust.
A single akuma flitted out of the charm.
"Playtime's over, akuma," the whisper said quietly, as the red-spotted black yoyo lashed out and caught the corrupted butterfly. Its pale white form fluttered out a second later, almost like it was running away from the scene about to unfold.
The tell-tale purple smoke dissipated, revealing a teenage girl wearing a white tee and pink pajama pants, her blue-black hair all messy, bluebell eyes wildly glancing everywhere as she realized what happened.
She felt the muscular arms of her hero pick her up and carry her out of Bob Roth's room before he could wake up, bringing her all the way home to her parents' bakery.
Once they finally landed on the balcony, she could finally get a good look at him. His mask hadn't changed from the usual, but he had four more irises in his green cat eyes, circling his own slit pupils like ladybug spots. The inside of his cat ears were bright red, dotted with black spots and lined with neon green. His shoulders and arms were red-sleeved and covered in black spots, while his armored torso remained the solid black she was so familiar with, his hands covered by black-palmed gloves. His upper legs were black with red speckles that seemed to bubble up from his lower legs, which were the opposite, black-spotted red, matching his neon-green lined combat boots. The yoyo, unchanged in color but now adorned with a cat's paw print in place of spots, was wrapped around his waist, and she could guess that the staff had five spots instead of a paw.
Mister Cat pulled her into a gentle hug. "I'm sorry, m'lady," he whispered. "The magic ladybugs couldn't fix it. Four times over, they couldn't fix it. I'm so, so sorry."
Marinette Dupain-Cheng finally realized what had happened.
Her weakness had been compromised.
She had done those horrible things.
It was all her fault.
Held in her kitty-bug's arms, her eyes began to well as she shook uncontrollably. She buried her face in his strong shoulder as she began to cry in horror of what she had done.
Believe it or not, this is all based off a song best described as a murderous panic attack.
Mister Cat's super suit is basically an inverted version of Bug Noire's, down to the name.
Happy Halloween, everybody.