"One month from now, the 2024 Olympics in Paris will commence with a unique opening parade on the Seine," Nadja Chamak began, "Thousands of athletes from over 200 territories will float down on boats. Let's go to Clara for more details."

"Thanks, Nadja, Overnight, the bacteria levels in the Seine were unexpectedly high, much to everyone's dismay." She gestured towards the murky water. "Officials attribute this to an unusually wet summer but remain committed to their efforts, having already invested $1.5 billion in clean-up projects. However, critics remain sceptical about the real cause." She looked back at the camera, "Back to you, Nadja."

"Thank you for that report, and now back to the akuma attack this morning…."

Adrien lowered the volume of his TV and leaned back on his couch—too awake to fall asleep but too tired to do something useful like practising piano or studying. He wanted to enjoy as much free time as possible before the Olympic parade, which he was scheduled to be a part of, representing the Gabriel brand. The event would no doubt be exhausting.

Why did Paris have to host the Olympics?

Adrien actively vetos runway jobs for a reason—he hates being stared at like a product. At least at photo shoots, people's faces are hidden behind the bright studio lighting. But because Gabriel was now an Olympic Partner and top donor, his father had insisted that the face of the brand—Adrien—simply must be the subject of the opening ceremony. Paris City had to drop Chat Noir and Ladybug to meet his father's demands, and Adrien would have much preferred doing this with Ladybug than alone.

"My son will not be overshadowed by those pathetic, brainless, so-called superhero lunatics!"

His father's distaste for the miraculous holders irked him. Sure, Adrien loved his dad, but he also really didn't like him as a person sometimes—perhaps more recently, a lot of the time.

(He tried not to think about that)

Plagg grunted as he zipped over, holding a piece of camembert in his tiny hands and inhaling it like a snake. "What's with the tired face? Thinking about taking a dip in the Seine with the mayor?"

"No way. No mayor getting in that water will convince me it's not full of toxic waste," Adrien responded, snapped out of his thought spiral.

"It is. Some pipes are broken, so all the rain and wastewater just flows right in," Plagg said with suspicious confidence, which caused Adrien to raise an eyebrow. "Since when did you become an expert on Paris's sewer system? You only care about cheese!"

"That's exactly why I know," Plagg replied. "Turns out an amateur plumber's sell rate for camembert nowadays is high. Seven wheels in one night!"

What's that supposed to mean?

He's not saying...

"Plagg! You better not be using your cataclysm on sewer pipes to pollute the Seine in exchange for cheese!"

"What? Pfft, no way! How could you accuse me, your exceptional Kwami, of such a thing?"

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. Geez, I'm not that dense. "You sunk Atlantis."

"That was one time!"

"The Tower of Pisa?"

"Big deal."

"The dinosaurs!"

Plagg huffed, "Well, if you're gonna list every crime, fine! Yes, I did that, but I was young! I'm much more tamed now. After all, Notre Dame's still standing, right?"

"Notre Dame? Yeah, the fire a few years back could've been worse . Wait, THAT WAS YOU TOO?"

What a menace! To think they'd lived under the same roof this whole time!

"I didn't mean to! I was just looking for cheese, and the next thing you know, the place is in flames! You humans need to build with better materials."

Plagg is such a worry. Adrien had no idea where to start, "Who's bribing you to pollute the Seine? That's not cool Plagg!"

"Eh, it was less of a bribe and more of a dare. I don't know where Xuppu's getting all the cheese from , though."

So more Kwamis were in on this? He'd have to talk to Ladybug about it.

Plagg zipped closer to him. "And look on the bright side! If the Seine is unusable, you won't have to do the opening ceremony. It's perfect logic!"

"No, it's not. They'll find your broken pipes eventually!"

"Then maybe Chat Noir should think of a plan to, you know, cause more chaos! You hold the Miraculous of Destruction, after all. It's in your instinct!"

How did Adrien end up with such a troublemaker?

Chat Noir, now bored and alone after patrol began letting his intrusive thoughts win. Troublemaker? Well, some harmless pranks for the fun of local Parisians wouldn't cause that much trouble, right?

Plagg is such a terrible influence.

But the last thing Chat wanted to do was go home alone and rot away in bed all afternoon. So, with the confidence from his mask and without thinking too much about it, Chat Noir went to the local toy shop and bought several realistic-looking toy fish to be plopped into the river.

So, as the city's Olympic Committee members gathered for today's inspection, they stared in disbelief as dozens of lifelike fish began to bob up and down in the water, their shiny scales glinting in the sunlight. Some leaned over the edge, trying to scoop them up, only to realise they'd been duped by incredibly realistic toys.

"What are these? Did some kid drop them in here?" one asked.

"Who cares, call M. Hill and make sure he gets them removed"

And the officials moved along.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

Maybe Chat Noir needed more practice . Or another idea, at least.

Over the following week, Chat Noir did just that—planting pranks along the riverbank, each one requiring more and more planning to pull off, and he wasn't any Banksy.

Eventually, the public caught on, and news stations switched from talking about the polluted seine being a threat to the Olympic games to the now daily mysterious tricks plaguing the area.

And of course, his wonderfully clever partner did too after catching him perched on a rooftop after visiting the Dupain-Cheng bakery carrying five kilograms of glitter, "Chat! Stop misusing your miraculous to do pranks! What's going to happen if someone catches you?"

"Relax, LB. I've got this. I'm more cunning than you think—like a cat in the night," he replied with a flirtatious grin, which went unnoticed.

"If you're going to use glitter, at least use the biodegradable kind," she insisted.

He hadn't considered that. Whoops.

"Noted. I'll save this for my arts and crafts then," he said, patting his obnoxiously large jar.

"And don't you dare set up anything dangerous," she warned.

Chat Noir raised an eyebrow. "What, you're not going to stop me in my tracks now?"

"I'm not your parent. I'm not going to discipline you. Do what you want," she said. "Just don't do anything ridiculous."

"So I take it my lady is enjoying my pranks?" Chat Noir asked.

"No. I don't have time to care. I'm busy," she reached for her yo-yo to leave first.

"Oh, by the way, there's a kwami dare thing going on. They're bribing Plagg with Camembert to use his cataclysm to destroy the sewage system. You might want to tell them to stop."

She turned to him, mortified. "WHAT?"

"I'll be off now," he said, using his baton to launch himself into the air. "I'm busy too!"

The serene morning along the Seine was shattered by the sight of a massive, bright yellow rubber duck floating majestically down the river. Tourists and Parisians alike paused, their cameras and phones aimed at the inflatable.

On the bank, a group of Paris city officials and Olympic Committee members, dressed in their finest suits, were inspecting the preparations for the rowing events. They watched in bemusement as the giant duck bobbed past them, its cheerful expression mocking their serious demeanour.

"Is this some kind of publicity stunt?" one official muttered, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses.

Suddenly, there was a commotion further down the river. A pack of cats emerged from the underbrush, darting about and chasing towards the officials. Children passing by squealed in delight, trying to catch them, while the officials looked on, utterly bewildered.

"Who in the world…?" the head official began, but his question was cut short by a loud, echoing quack.

Bum bum bum, ba-dum ba-dum

A duck walked up to a lemonade stand

And he said to the man, running the stand

"Hey! (Bum bum bum) Got any grapes?"

The man said "No, we just sell lemonade

But it's cold and it's fresh, and it's all home-made.

Can I get you a glass?"

The duck said, "I'll pass."

Then he waddled away, waddle waddle

"'Til the very next day, bum bum bum bum bum ba-dum," Chat Noir merrily mumbled. This was it—Chat Noir was ready to unveil his pièce de résistance: a canoe rigged with a glitter bomb. Pierre, the local fisherman, unsuspectingly climbed into the canoe, ready for his morning routine. As he pushed off, the canoe hit a trigger, and with a loud pop, Pierre was enveloped in a cloud of glitter, transforming him into a human disco ball.

"Mon Dieu!" Pierre exclaimed, looking at his golden shimmering hands in disbelief. The committee members struggled to not laugh in an attempt to look professional.

One, though, looked on with anger, "Who keeps pulling these tricks? We have a serious schedule to stick to!"

"Now that's sparkly lemonade!" Chat Noir laughed, perched on a nearby lamppost , observing his pièce de résistance proudly before being rudely tangled up by his lovely partner's yoyo and subsequently pulled down to the cobblestone ground with a grunt.

Said lovely partner had a not-so-lovely look on her face, " Chat Noir! What have you done this time?" she facepalmed her forehead, scolding him like he did this every day. Which— to be fair, he had been for the past three weeks.

"Just a little pre-Olympic fun, m'lady," Chat Noir grinned, unbothered by her exasperation. "I thought the Paris games could use a new mascot since they won't use me!" pointing over at the duck which continued to play his childhood classic, The Duck Song™.️

"More like you're salty they dropped you for Adrien Agreste." Ladybug sighed, "But seriously, Chat Noir— you're the reason we're all going to be forced to use QR codes to access this area soon. Stop trying to scare off the entire committee! You're worst than #JeChieDansLaSeineLe23Juin planning to poop in the seine!"

"You better not give me any more ideas, LB" he smirked, "or I might just join in on that one, too"

"Chat!"

"I thought you didn't care about what I was doing!"

"Well, when I see a massive duck floating down the Seine on the news, what do you think I'm gonna assume? Akuma!"

"Oh yeah. Whoops," he smiled sheepishly. Maybe he should have thought about that . "I think I'm out of ideas."

"Clearly," Ladybug said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you make something that's not a public hazard or hang out with your friends like a normal person ? You know, something a bit less... explosive."

"They're all busy. And I don't want to bother them."

"But you're happy to bother random civilians?"

"Touché."

Ladybug shifted her weight. "Well, um, you remember Multimouse, right?"

"Marinette? Yeah, why?" He asked, knowing Marinette was tied up helping out in the bakery with the surge of business expected once the games start. His other friends, like Nino, were preparing to leave and go on holiday to avoid the games altogether.

Ladybug met his eyes. "Why don't you help her around the bakery? They probably need extra labour to carry all the new orders of flour ."

He wouldn't mind doing that, but… "I'm pretty sure her parents hate me."

Her father was akumatised because of me.

"Pfft, no way. I mean—if they do, then maybe if you help out, they'll forgive you?" Ladybug suggested, shrugging.

That's not a bad idea. Chat Noir did feel bad about that, especially given how well her parents treated Adrien outside of the mask. It felt like he was lying to them. But, if he could win them over as his masked self, then the guilt would be gone!

"Okay. I'll do that then."

"Good. I'll see you next time, then, kitty." She waved goodbye before zipping away.

Now, instead of rotting in his room alone or conspiring useless plans, Chat Noir found himself at the Dupain-Cheng Bakery doing some heavy lifting and baking cookies. It was nice.

Really nice.

But after the opening ceremony, his schedule would be filled again like usual, and he dreaded it more than ever before.

At least he knew the Dupain-Chengs would take him in anytime with open arms, so he wouldn't need to pull pranks for attention ever again.

(Well, except for flour fights with Marinette)

(Which, he always won)

(Unlike their Mega Strike III tournaments)

He was a cat, after all. Who could blame him?