World On Fire: No More Heroes

by DrTwit

Marinette never thought there'd come a time where her only ally was Hawkmoth, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Three years after his death, Gabriel Agreste awakens to a Paris ruled by akumas and no heroes left to defend it. To save his son, and perhaps even his soul, he must team up with his arch nemesis, Ladybug, to save a future built by their mistakes.

18. Gabbi Grassette's Bizzare Adventure

This was going to be more than one chapter, but I figured I didn't want to spend multiple chapters in a flashback when this story is already split between two points in time. So, here's one big chapter for you.

---

Paris, 1991 – 29 Years ago

Gabriel Grassette had committed his fair share of crimes throughout his life. He drank before legal age, smoked one cigarette and nearly choked to death in front of the police, he stole his fair share of scraps from people who didn't deserve it and he'd been publicly pummelled into a bloody mess in scraps he started.

But it was only after meeting Colt Fathom that it became a career.

The night was still young and flush with activity, leaving a sea of bodies and a cacophony of screeching chairs and raspy coughs to drown out any other senses. It wasn't exactly Gabriel's scene. Not that he turned his nose up at it or anything, but Gabriel never liked big gatherings – growing up in the gutter, Gabriel found himself seeing any stranger as a potential threat, and crowds were an army of strangers leering over him, waiting for him to show something they could use.

He preferred to do his drinking somewhere quiet, where few people could see him, where he could pretend the rest of the world was dead. It kept his mind ordered, stopped his focus from wavering towards unhelpful tangents.

Naturally, he had exceptions. He'd stomach Harry's stand-up notes (and rarely he'd even manage to laugh), and he'd never mind any distraction Emilie would offer, but other than them he'd be quite content to let the rest of the world cease to exist.

Gabriel found the only way to avoid being overwhelmed by the waves of activity was to focus on the two people sitting across from him. Despite how belligerent Colt's general demeanour proved to be, he was the closest thing to an anchor Gabriel had.

They'd eased themselves into the drinking at first, a few cursory sips, enough to dull Gabriel's sharp tongue and open him to a game of poker over some light conversation. Early in the night, Gabriel made the crucial mistake of challenging Nathalie to a game. She'd had the gall to pretend she didn't play the game much. Now, the only hope of winning back his materials budget was getting Colt to bet high while Nathalie was ordering them more drinks.

Colt peered over the rim of his cards, "So, how'd a pan handler end up with a foreign heiress anyhow?"

Gabriel frowned, shuffling through his hand. "I work in a tailor's shop, thank you very much."

"Fancy." Colt chuckled, knocking back his drink.

The advantage of playing against Colt compared to Nathalie is that, where Nathalie was a mask of ice and stone, Colt was as subtle as a bullhorn. He was an honest person, and Gabriel didn't mean that as a compliment. He was honest in that his eyes couldn't help but betray the raw thoughts crossing his mind. Gabriel could practically see Colt's winning or losing hand reflected in his iris'.

Gabriel sighed, laying his cards down on the table. "I knew her back when we were children, if you must know."

A mocking, and childish, 'ooo' escaped Colt. "Aw, love at first sight then?"

"Well, no, I thought she was wretched, spoilt cretin when we first met." Gabriel paused, a light flush reaching his cheeks. "Her friends used to throw things at us, poked at people like me as if we were zoo animals." He decided to leave out the particular memory he had of accidentally hitting her with an egg when a much younger him tried egging her car. That had been back when he still died his hair and wasted his pittance wages on hair gel.

Colt scoffed, "She sounds like a real charmer."

"She wasn't like that!" Gabriel said a little too forcefully, his instincts urging him to defend Emilie. He reeled it back in a little, adding on in a lower tone, "At least, I only thought so at the time."

"What happened?"

"Then one night things changed."

"Ah." Colt nodded sagely, "Puberty."

Gabriel shook his head, "Classy."

Still not showing his cards, Colt was content to pull them back, tapping them against his chin thoughtfully. "What? It's a natural part of human nature. We hate girls until we realize that delicate features ain't that bad."

Gabriel found himself resting his chin on his palm, a slight, sarcastic grin tugging at his lips. "You have the heart of a true romantic, I can tell."

The low, raspy noise that came from Colt's throat could only be described as verbal spitting. Gabriel assumed it was a gesture of disgust. "Romance is for suckers. Whets your appetite, sure, but that well runs dry when it comes time to actually start their life." He waved his hand back and forth, lazily, as if he were struck by a foul odour wafting in. "Proper ladies ain't gonna be able to live their life on sweet words and poetry."

Finally, Colt revealed his hand with a satisfying grunt. Satisfying for Gabriel, not for Colt, as he recognised that he'd won this round.

With a thin sneer mixing in with the sarcasm, Gabriel pulled his winnings over to his side as Colt began reshuffling the cards. "How many rejections was it before you started coping this hard?"

"Mock me now, but I've seen your story in a hundred drunk bums." Colt leaned back in his chair, which looked especially precarious when the man was so broadly built, an elephant balancing on a spindly wooden stool. "Sweet lil' rich girl grows up with the mediocrity of high society, hits her rebellious phase and seeks out a rough, hapless street rat that'll piss off daddy."

He pulls a card from the deck, letting it fall between two fingers. Twirling it around idly, he waved the King of Hearts, shielding his own face from Gabriel's perspective outside of the edge of his grin. "Sure, she'll have her fun for a few years, but sooner or later she realizes she needs a sugar daddy who'll enable the lifestyle she's used to."

Suddenly, that grin tightened. It grew heavier, straining it until it was clearly fake. The card turned it's back to Gabriel, for one split-second he could only see the generic red backside. Somehow, by the time it finished it's turn, the King had become a Joker. "And that poor sap? Chucked out like last week's garbage."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, "You don't know Emilie." He didn't know Gabriel either, Gabriel noted to himself, but the man sure did like talking like he did. Like he knew anything about what Gabriel and Emilie were willing to sacrifice for their future, about how much Emilie hated her home life.

"I know her family." Colt snapped, his voice betraying a hot, bitter edge. "Pampered Peacocks, the lot of 'em. The elite never stop looking down on you, Gabe. Even when they find you entertaining."

Gabriel grinned, but there was no mirth in full range of teeth he put on display. "Present company included?"

"Heh, my family ain't ever gonna be one of them." Colt shook his head, an unnatural gravitas to his tone that made it easy to forget the boisterous buffoon from a mere minute ago.

He knew right then that he hated this look on Colt, the burning stare that hid below the carefree, drunken exterior. It clashed against Gabriel's cold contrast, revealed something about him an inch too deep, increasing that sense of unwanted vulnerability in such an exposed position. In that moment, it almost felt like a deliberate act, a warning from Colt that he wasn't as clueless as he acted.

The moment Nathalie sat down, Colt's lesser demeanour disappeared behind the rim of his next drink. "The old man sure likes to try and kiss up to 'em, but no amount of money, especially new money, is gonna stop those fucks from seeing us as scum getting dirt on their floor."

Gabriel leaned forward. He was curious, and he dreaded having the spotlight remain on him, so he pried. "So, your father sent you to the party?"

Nathalie nodded for Colt, sliding a glass over to Gabriel. "Mr. Fathom's business is technical innovation; cars, computers, arms dealing."

Colt chuckled, "France ain't exactly that eager for that last part, so I'm sent ahead to shake some hands, set up some stone foundations and dazzle a few suckers with tales of America's new premier super."

Gabriel found himself stuck on that last word, a pause that left him staring into the dull contents of his glass. He knew exactly who Colt was talking about. "Ah, you're from New York?"

It had not been so long ago that Superheroes were a childish fantasy reserved for the pages of comic books. There had always been rumours, of course. Grainy footage of a silhouette carrying a truck through the sky, news stories about a blur tearing through the streets at speeds no human could possibly reach, tall tales of magical healers, historical figures who inherited magical titles and artifacts – things that could be overlooked, dismissed as dreams or superstition.

But all of it became reality that day, two years ago, when New York was attacked by the first official super villain – Madame Mayhem – and, after one month of the military response accomplishing nothing, saved by the first official superhero – Majestia. The Battle of New York, he'd heard it called.

Colt let out a satisfied whistle, nostalgia washing over his face. "That's right, I had front row seats to Majestia's debut. Got to see her smack Madame Mayhem right across the ocean."

For a moment, Gabriel just sat there in stunned silence. The Battle of New York had been a well-documented event, Majestia's public career after the event was no secret by any means, and the news was reporting on new supers popping up across the globe. But none of this activity touched France. Colt, sitting across from him, was the first time it was well and truly real in Gabriel's world.

Eventually, Gabriel's mind caught up with him, and his brows furrowed. Colt was roughly the same age as him, wasn't he? "You served? But wouldn't you have been-"

Colt rolled his eyes, lips trembling under the pressure of a laugh restrained. "Plenty of patriots lie about their age to serve their country, Gabe."

Gabriel could only quirk a brow at that, letting his judgement stay silent. You'd lie to get yourself blown to smithereens in a hopeless battle? Maybe American's are just suicidal gloryhounds…

Colt had taken to staring down at his glass too, his current thought making him squint at the drink as he swirled it about. "…Anyway, it was an easy pitch. America has superheroes, what has France got, huh?"

Gabriel grinned for real this time, for perhaps the first time this night. "No supervillains. Naturally." He did tend to become more genuine whenever the opportunity to be smug arose.

Their two glasses clinked together, and the two shared a small laugh. Though neither really knew the true joke they were laughing at. "Not yet anyway."

---

A couple more drinks into the night, Gabriel was willing to admit that he was slightly tipsy. Not enough to be a complete blubbering wreck, but when he found himself hopping up on the table top to snatch Colt's hat, with only Nathalie's quick hand stopping him from tumbling off the edge; he did have to ask himself how he allowed this night to get this far.

Colt stumbled to his feet to make a grab for the hat but, unlike Gabriel, he did not have Nathalie's support to save him from gravity when his blind swipe turned into an impromptu dive across the table. He did manage to get his hat, along with a couple of concussions.

Shamelessly, Gabriel found his hand pressing down on Nathalie's head (even with his senses muddled, he did not dare try to glimpse what expression she was making while he did this), keeping himself steady as he stepped off the table.

However, as he went, he found his toe smacking against something small, but heavy. He was on Colt's side of the table, squinting down at where his foot met a brown blur.

After a few seconds to let his vision catch up with his gaze, he found himself staring down at a thick, leather-bound book. One of those books where the material crinkled at just the angles to make the subconscious mind imagine a screaming face in its texture.

He vaguely recalled Colt pulling it out and idly perusing it with an irritated look between rounds of poker, it was the only thing Colt dared to put in his hand that wasn't a card or a drink.

All Gabriel's inebriated mind processed was that the book looked spooky. So, naturally, he took this opportunity to snatch it up as he slid back into his seat.

"Wash dis?" He slurred curiously, flipping through the withered pages with reckless abandon.

It was a difficult read, and not just because the alcohol was still fresh in his mind. There were paragraphs wrapping around photographs and news clippings glued into the pages, and it was all written in English.

Gabriel had little knowledge of the English language, and 90% of that was from Emilie teaching him different English insults. Some words popped out at him, names of political figures and mythical heroes – he recognised the likes of Joan of Arc and what he assumed to be the three musketeers depicted in inked paintings.

He didn't miss how the butterfly broach, nestled comfortably under his tie, suddenly seemed to thrum to life at this. As if it were eagerly looking through the pages just like him.

Colt groaned from under the table, eventually rising over the edge with a hand over his head. However, the moment he caught sight of Gabriel palming through his book, the man managed to straighten up. "N-Noah. Dat's my… My book!"

He lunged to grab it, but Gabriel darted out of the way, the two initiating a drunken dance of sluggish swaying and delayed jumps. Nathalie watched on with a blank expression, probably wishing for the world to swallow her whole and spare her this embarrassment.

"What's all this mean then?" Gabriel stretched his long arms out of Colt's desperate reach, turning the pages with his thumb. "Is it… Like, an art…. Art thing?"

By the fifth time Gabriel caught a glimpse of a picture depicting someone in Ladybug or Cat themed costumes, Gabriel had to wonder if he really did want to know what the hell Colt was writing in this journal.

"Noooo, give it." Colt missed the book, but his swipe didn't miss Gabriel's nose, knocking the man back into his chair. "Gabriel, I'm serious. That's important- Ah, work."

The book dropped from Gabriel's hand and fell flat against the table, opened on the latest page. This page was actually legible to Gabriel's eye, the notes and the writing in the newspaper clipping being straight up French. With a cursory glance, the article was about some guy going around Paris and carving symbols into the ground.

"What's so impooortant about it?" He asked.

Colt tried to stand, but his weight killed any hope of managing to balance his drunken movement, ending with him just slumping over the table and letting his head land just above the book. "It's about the footur."

Curiosity seemed to win out against Gabriel's drunken state, the writing suddenly looking crystal clear as he thirst for understanding grew. The notes started off with a quote taking up half the page, with different words underlined and then an arrow drawn between them and relevant sections of the news article.

At the edge of a new era,

A champion of the world's secrets will escape the northern lands,

He who with his last breath will carve his legacy into the flesh of Paris;

He who will guide the chosen to his fate.

Gabriel scoffed, "Oh, I get it. It's bad poetry?"

Colt grunted, "No, it's a prophecy. From… Ah…" He groaned, the very effort of thought giving the man a headache.

"Nostril Anus." He said proudly, lazily tapping two fingers against Gabriel's arm. "One of you people."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "Nostradamus."

Michel de Nostredame, legendary seer of the 15th century who, later in life, proclaimed to have been gifted foreknowledge of the future for events centuries in advance. Naturally, these prophecies managed to find great success in the modern world, mostly due to mistranslations and vague wording that allowed any event to technically prove them right.

So, Colt was into the occult. What Gabriel would otherwise describe as 'a sucker'.

"That's what I said. He's magic."

Gabriel peered down at the so-called prophecy, unimpressed. "I've never seen this one. Must be fake." He may not believe in the ancient physician's foresight, but he had extensively researched the subject growing up.

"It was never published." Colt crossed him arms, looking as smug as the only kid who got a lollipop.

Gabriel scoffed, "Then how do you have it?"

Colt shrugged, swaying uncomfortably. "I know a lot of guys."

Leaning closer in, Gabriel skimmed over what he could make of the symbols, thinking to himself how he'd walked those very streets without noticing these additions. "What does this have to do with graffiti?"

The article was dated about last year, depicting symbols that reminded Gabriel of a tic-tac-toe board. 1990, ten years until a new century. Gabriel pondered, I suppose that would count as the 'edge of a new era'.

Colt pulls the book back a bit, tapping his finger against a picture of the perpetrator – an older, Asian, gentleman as far as Gabriel could see. "The… The man here… He was a convict. Escaped. From the Northen Way."

Nathalie sighs, "He means Norway."

A convict from a prison north of France. That certainly fitted with escaping from the northern lands. Gabriel narrowed his eyes, the puzzle before him doing wonders to sober his mind for the moment. So this convict is some important secret keeper? The world's secrets could be anything.

"The viking place." Colt grumbles, waving his hand dismissively, "He drew the symbols, and then died while drawing the last one."

His last breath used to draw the symbols. His legacy. That meant the final line was identifying these symbols as a guide to something.

"Ooo, spooky." Gabriel threw himself back against his chair, his mind struggling to maintain focus as the alcohol bubbled up once more. He needed questions, mental stimulation; his only life line in an inebriated storm. "So, the symbols are supposed to be… Duuuurections?"

Colt nodded, "To the fate-y place. With the magic stuff."

Gabriel muttered, "To the fate-y place."

It clicked immediately. Even with the alcohol's tight grip on his thought process, it was so blindingly obvious to Gabriel. The symbols were directions, they simply needed to cross-reference them. How could Colt and Nathalie have not have seen it?

Then again, if this truly was a prophecy, and only a proclaimed chosen was to be led to his fate, then perhaps only one person could be allowed to consider the solution even against all odds of logic.

If it were truly a prophecy. If it were truly real. There was no amount of alcohol that could make Gabriel believe in such fancy.

Still, he flipped to the back of the journal, retrieving a handy map of Paris Colt had stuffed into the last page.

"Heeeey, my map!"

"Maps give directions." Garbiel said unevenly, drunkenly fiddling with the map for the next minute to unravel it across the table top. "Nathalie?"

She peered over to him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Sir?"

"Draw…" He stumbled over his words, repeatedly smacking his fingers against the paper. "Draw the locations."

"Of the symbol sightings?" She said slowly, waiting for Gabriel's chin to dip into an agonizingly delayed nod. "Alright."

She went over the map with a red marker. Gabriel didn't question it, his thoughts idly deciding to note that she looked like someone who always had a pen. She was very well put together, he admitted to himself, both physically and emotionally.

What was he thinking about again?

The loud snap of Nathalie sliding the marker's cap back on pulled Gabriel back into the moment, into the curiosity. Right, the map.

He dragged his finger around where Nathalie had marked the rough position of the symbols, stretching across the entire city. Just as he suspected, they were almost mathematically perfect, evenly distanced with the same angle offset. "See? It makes a circle."

Colt leered over him, staring at him blankly, "I don't get it."

Nathalie gently pushed Colt aside, making a clear effort to take on a more diplomatic tone. She'd only known Gabriel for a couple of hours, and he could already see she'd picked up on how volatile his ego could be when challenged. "The locations have no relevance to each other, Mr. Grassinette. We've checked."

"It makes a circle." Gabriel repeated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Which means, they all… Meet in the middle."

He picked up the marker and drew a (mostly) straight line between all the points of interest. "His legacy ends at…" The endeavour ended with a crude x drawn over the point they all intersected. "Notre-Dame."

For a moment, it felt like the world had gone silent. The bar and it's patrons faded out of existence, leaving only a dark void where a disembodied spotlight shined down on the three. Gabriel could hear, no, feel, Colt's heartbeat like a constant drumming in the back of his mind.

Something flashed in Colt's eyes, a mixture of surprise and suspicion, like Gabriel had just confirmed an unsaid theory. He wasn't angry, or joyful, he was just stunned, taking whatever it was in.

Colt, suddenly looking impossibly sober, shot to his feet. "Nathalie. Get the car." He tossed out his keys without so much as sparing a look at her, resulting in the keys bouncing off her shoulder before she scooped them up. "We might be doing something criminal tonight."

For once, Nathalie's stone-cold mask broke to an exasperated groan. This was not the first, or last, time Colt has tested her resolve. "Sir, you're intoxicated."

Gabriel felt himself yanked out of his seat by his forearm, swept up in Colt's sudden force of presence. "We can sober up on the way over."

---

Cathedrals were spoken of as a place of respite, a sanctuary where the children of God could gather under for guidance and assurance. Notre-Dame filled Gabriel with nothing but dread, stepping foot on it's hallowed grounds igniting a sense of unending pressure.

He'd like to think the unpleasantness stemmed from knowing his mother was buried not far from where he stood, but he knew it was more than that. He saw this towering, ancient structure that made all surrounding landmarks bow before it, drenched in an everlasting downpour, the howl of the belltower sweeping over the city as easily as the wind. He saw the gargoyles peering out from the arched adorning the towers through parapets of stone.

From the stone foundation to the highest point, he could feel the eyes of Notre-Dame look down upon him, he could feel judgement weighing on his shoulders, with a scowl at the lowly creature who did not belong in the halls of saints and the repentant.

He never considered himself a God-fearing man, but… Well, he hoped that God wouldn't judge him too harshly for breaking and entering.

"I can't believe you're doing this." Gabriel swept his hair back, splattering water droplets behind him. "This is a holy place…"

Colt patted him on the back, his boisterous chuckle returning in full force. "Hey, nobody forced you to come."

Gabriel crossed his arms, "You literally dragged me into the car."

"And you let me." Colt smacked his shoulder, "Now grab the crowbar."

Nathalie remained in the car back over by the street, positioned right by the gate for quick access in case they needed to haul out of there quick. Gabriel assumed Colt told her to stay back, but he wouldn't be surprised if she simply had too much self-respect to venture any further into this act of borderline desecration.

All he knew for sure was that he'd feel a whole lot safer with Nathalie around. He realized the moment he left the car, when heat abandoned him and the cold consumed him, that she had a certain aura about her. A steel stability that radiated from her, that influenced the gravity around you to keep you grounded. Without her there, it was as if he was adrift on an uneasy ocean without an anchor.

Everything about this place, every bone in his body, screamed at him to leave, and yet he still rocked up by Colt's side at the entrance, the crowbar hefted over his shoulder.

"What if somebody catches us?" Gabriel asked.

Colt shrugged, urging Gabriel towards the marble steps. "We start talking gibberish and convince them we've been possessed."

There were three arches that marked the front of the cathedral, each curving inwards to form multiple layers of indents held up by twin pillars. Each of these arches contained a pair of doors, which were almost as big as the walls themselves, as if they were made for giants to use instead of humans.

Gabriel took position in the centre arch, aiming the flat end of the crowbar towards the seam between the door and the wall. "This is a terrible idea."

Colt scoffed, leaning against the wall beside Gabriel. "Like you have anywhere better to be."

It struck Gabriel in that moment that Colt, built like a freight train, would have been more suited to busting open the door. But he also suspected that Colt knew this as well, and just wanted to see Gabriel squirm.

Gabriel rolled his eyes before plunging the crowbar into the seam, jiggling it back and forth, seeing just how far he could push it before he met too much resistance. "A gas station toilet would be better than breaking into one of Paris' most sacred locations."

There was that annoying, incessant little noise of Colt clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was simultaneously disgusting and demeaning. "And yet here you are."

"Only because this Nostradamus story has piqued my curiosity."

It wasn't a complete lie, the prophecy's accuracy certainly drew Gabriel's interest, but that wasn't the whole truth. What Gabriel left out was the sense of purpose he'd divined subconsciously the moment he laid his eyes upon those pictures, a sensation that had only strengthened to close he came to Notre-Dame.

The broach, his little butterfly charm, thrummed with activity. Ever since he'd come to possess it, he had felt connected to it in small waves. What he told Nathalie earlier about it was no exaggeration, there were times he could swear that it was alive, that it spoke to him on a level that far surpassed human interaction. It was something private and personal, something he could never fully explain or prove to anyone else, something he many times feared was a delusion born from desperation.

But tonight, his butterfly called out to him, urging him forward. Within Notre-Dame lied a purpose, perhaps an answer to a question he never wanted to ask. Whatever path he had stumbled upon, he was sure it was his path alone.

After a minute of grunting and ignoring Colt's amused gaze, the door finally gave way to the pressure of his prying and limply slid open.

Colt clapped his hands together, just loud enough to hurt Gabriel's ear and make him jump. From his front pocket, he fished out two flashlights, tossing one Gabriel's way as he clicked his to life. "Hope you're not afraid of the dark."

Gabriel huffed before stumbling after Colt into the dark expanse of the interior. "I still think it's all just some insane coincidence, or the deluded prank of a dying man."

Gazing upon the halls of Notre Dame for the first-time enveloped Gabriel in a sense of awe and reverence. The vast nave stretched out before him, flanked by rows of towering columns upholding the ribbed vaults of the arched ceiling adorned with intricate carvings and delicate tracery. A dim light filters through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours upon the stone walls.

With one glance, he could feel the weight of the building's history bare down upon him, a insignificant peon within a grand design.

Colt's voice called from up ahead, shaking Gabriel from his awe. "Don't you believe in magic, Gabe?"

Gabriel coughed, jogging onwards to catch up with Colt. "Hardly."

Colt shot him an odd look, "We were literally discussing superheroes hours ago."

"Majestia isn't magic." Gabriel shot back, asserting that condescending tone that flowed from his mouth as easily as water. "She's some freak experiment or alien species or whatever."

It was almost comical watching such a large shape, shrouded by the dim glow of the moonlight, relax his shoulders and let his head fall limp to give Gabriel the side-eye. "What's the difference? She's a girl that can fly into space and throw hands with little green men. Sounds like magic to me – even if it comes from some out-of-this-world tech, or a needle."

"Magic is not just incredible feats, it's a lie." Gabriel scoffed, "Magic, miracles, they're all just nonsense we make up to tell ourselves there's some grand point to the hopelessness in our lives, something without rules or sense so it can neatly fit whatever problem we deny."

Colt didn't care enough to offer a rebuttal, stalking ahead with what Gabriel would call unearned confidence. It was only as the minutes drew on, and their thunderous footsteps echoing through the empty space became the only sound Gabriel could hear, that Gabriel started to question what Colt's plan was.

The man strode with confidence and consideration, idly peering around corners and through pews as if he were comparing the location to a map in his head, as if there was a path he was following.

As if this wasn't location he only knew about due to Gabriel's recent revelation.

Their journey took them past the main hall, slipping through the side passages flanked by arches and the echoes of organ music. Eventually, they found themselves ascending the staircase up to the bell tower, each step releasing a harsh hiss from the old wooden boards and making Gabriel jump.

With the final step, Gabriel took point, hurrying along and just wanting to be on solid ground again. However, the moment he escaped out into to the bell tower, he hadn't even had a chance to glance over the surroundings before his view was obscured by a towering figure.

At first, there was a sudden sensation that something was not right, a primal instinct triggered by the grotesque silhouette looming before him. The shape, perched high on the edge of the darkness. seemed to come alive in his mind, baring jagged features that morphed into menacing claws and fangs in the shadows.

The creature lunged forward, and in the back of his mind Gabriel heard a viscous roar. He stumbled back, losing his footing with a sharp gasp that was quickly swallowed by the air. It was only Colt's hand pressed against his lower back that stopped him from tumbling down the staircase.

With Colt's flashlight aimed over his shoulder, the darkness scurried away like rats, leaving the intimidating figure bare. Under this light, the chiselled, defined features were quite motionless, and the putrid skin clearly had the texture of stone. It was closed off to Gabriel, arms crossed over and head lowered to hide it's gaze.

Gabriel let out a sigh of relief.

He could practically hear Colt roll his eyes as he pushed past. "Relax, it's just a statue."

Gabriel grumbled to himself, "A scary statue…" and followed suit.

The statue was further away than Gabriel realized, perched atop the balcony with it's fellow gargoyles, overlooking the beautiful expanse of Paris. He had to admit, being so far up that the world below was reduced to flattened roofs, twinkling lights and the distant rolling hills under the night's sky, even with the rain hammering down, he could see a bit of the majesty that everyone boasted about.

Turning away from the view, he spotted that Colt had come to a stop, dumping his bag in front of the Gargoyle and flipping through the pages of his journal. It seemed he had a destination in mind after all.

Gabriel propped himself up against the railing, enjoying the sensation of the cold downpour slightly brushing the back of his head. "What exactly do you expect to find?"

Colt didn't look up from his work, instead opting to rasp his knuckle against the nearest wall, letting out a disappointed hum as the subdued sound he got in response. "A keyhole. It'll be marked with a symbol, looks kind of like the silhouette of a small house or something."

Gabriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Colt knew more than he reasonably should, more than Garbiel, and that annoyed Gabriel more than anything. "Okay, seriously, how do you know all this?"

The outline of Colt's cheekbones became more prominent as he sucked in sharply, a particularly sour expression overtaking him. "I told you, I know some guys. A lot of guys." A bump formed in his left cheek, his tongue running over the inside of his mouth, prodding at the unease that had set in. "Let's just say I may or may not be in a little group of collectors who have a vested interest in recovering objects of a certain… Miraculous Nature."

Oh, a secret cabal of rich asshats hunting down magical artifacts? That sounds about right. Gabriel would laugh if he even half-believed they'd be finding more than meaningless trinkets. So, in actuality, it was a bunch of rich morons getting scammed looking for some local legend the tourism board probably made up.

Instead, he restrained himself to a smug, mocking grin. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Is that why you're really in Paris?"

"I'm still doing my old man's bidding. I'm just good at multi-tasking." Colt moved further inward, dragging his fingers across the wall, peeling through layers of dust. "Doesn't hurt that my pals can be quite generous when you prove your worth."

Gabriel chewed on that thought for a second. He'd probably be willing to bite his tongue and buy any magical mumbo jumbo spiel if there was a good paycheck in it too. The question was, was Colt a true believer, or was this simply his side hustle?

The cynic in Gabriel assumed the former, but then he recalled the intense determination that flashed in Colt's eyes when he realized Gabriel uncovered the location. And turned his attention to how methodically the man scanned the length of the room. That wasn't the look of a man just in it for the cheap thrills or the paycheck, that was a man who saw something of worth there.

"Is Nathalie apart of this group too?"

"Nathalie gets to keep plausible deniability. She knows some weird shit is going down, but I try to keep her out of it." Colt shook his head, "My father wouldn't approve, and she's too good at her job to let this slide if she knew all the details."

"At the end of the day, I don't need much of a reason." Colt shrugged, sighing as he pulled his hand back, staring down at the dust being rubbed between his forefinger and his thumb. "Trust me, sometimes discovery is it's own reward."

Gabriel almost scoffed out loud, but managed to resist, instead just peering back at Colt quizzically. The man didn't exactly strike Gabriel as a history buff who'd care about the importance of uncovering a previously unknown history or anything. But then it seemed that Colt had only become more and more inconsistent with the image Gabriel had in his head the longer the night went on.

Maybe there was more to this cowboy.

Or Gabriel was just too eager to make surface level assumptions.

The two continued to search amongst the room, combing through old tables, kicking up stone fragments, peering behind little nooks and crannies. It didn't take long. The room was large, but the twin bells that adorned the centre made the space feel cramped.

Gabriel ended up leaning against one of the bells very cautiously, imagining with a slight shiver how the sound of their ringing would shatter his eardrums if he dared to accidentally set them off. It was only by sheer luck that this position just so happened to place him at the perfect angle to see a discrepancy on the bell's surface, a patch of the material that flushed a darker shade of gold.

He swept his thumb over it, gathering a clump of dust under his finger. Underneath, he found that the material had been chipped away at, forming a symbol.

"Is that what you're looking for?" He called over to Colt, pointing at the engraving.

Colt practically threw himself at Gabriel, his chin carelessly smacking Gabriel upside the head as he leaned over Gabriel's shoulder. For a split second there was just Colt's rampant breathing, his eyes going over the symbol again and again until-

"Bingo!" He suddenly cried out to Gabriel's dismay.

Gabriel shoved Colt off him with a scowl, gently massaging his ears. "Okay, we found it. Now what do we do?"

Colt lightly punched Gabriel in the shoulder before puling back and shooting Gabriel some finger gun motions. "Told you, it's a keyhole, and I just so happen to have the-" One hand dropped down to his side, grasping at air until he grumbled. "Ah, crap, I left my bag back by the Gargoyle."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, sliding past Colt and heading back towards the balcony. "I'll get it. You find your keyhole."

He held the flashlight over his head, scanning the floor for the fallen satchel. As he crept through the room, he could see patches of upturned dust piles that had scattered under his footsteps, revealing a deeper brown colour underneath. It was like disfigured footprints.

Oddly enough, the size was wildly inconsistent. Some would be a small disturbance, something that made sense with the width of his foot and how tentatively he stepped, but then others would stretch up to double that size, as if someone had awkwardly swept through them with a broom.

He didn't find any reason to focus on this particular detail, yet it remained in the back of his head until he reached the balcony. Despite how few places the satchel could have been, he still couldn't see it anywhere by the foot of the railing.

Grumbling to himself, he crouched down, thinking that maybe it's dark colour matched the floorboards enough to blend in under the thin beam of light. "No bag. I could have sworn this was where-"

Suddenly, he felt his head bump into something soft. He tilted his head up to find himself face-to-face with the aged leather of the satchel hanging loosely in front of him. "Oh, there it is."

Standing up, he got a bigger picture. With his focus on the floor, he'd completely missed that the satchel was had been hanged on long, open arm of the Gargoyle statue perched on the railing.

He paused for a moment, catching the red glint of the statue's glare and feel a shiver take hold of him. The apprehension from earlier still weighed down on him, even if he knew it was just some old stone sculpture. It took a shake of his head and a few deep breaths, trying to focus his senses on the loud downpour battering the exterior of the cathedral, before he reached for the satchel.

He tugged on it, only to find it stuck. The straps were trapped under the Gargoyle's fingers. Fortunately, after a few failed tugs, the Gargoyle loosened it's grip to allow him to pull the satchel free and turn aw-

Gabriel slowly turned back. He met it's red gaze that had been hidden before. He watched it's open arms that had been closed before. He noted the slight movement, an imitation of breath, of the shoulders that had been dead stiff before.

Gabriel's mind overloaded with panic, a sensation that drowned out all other senses so much he couldn't even muster a scream. All he could do was let his mouth hang open, lips wobbling like jelly as he slowly, awkwardly, backed away.

The Gargoyle moved but did not pursue. It just continued to stare and breathe.

Eventually, Gabriel's shoulder collided with Colt's head, the man crouched down beside the bell with his hat hanging off his neck.

"…Colt." Gabriel whispered in a harsh hiss.

Colt did not look up. "Did you find it?"

Gabriel reached back and tugged on Colt's coat, just repeating his name over and over under his breath.

Colt growled, eventually growing tired enough of the incessant poking and prodding and lurching to his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest, glowering down at Gabriel with a furrowed brow. "You okay there? You're looking like you've seen a-"

Gabriel's hand grabbed Colt by the nose and yanked it forward, turning his entire head to face the Gargoyle.

"Ah." Exclaimed Colt, slowly.

"Yup." Gabriel added.

"So, uh…" Colt leaned in close, every movement slow, deliberate and filled with the hope that the gargoyle worked like a T-Rex. "What's your scientific explanation for this?"

"Not. The. Time." Gabriel hissed.

The mad bastard had the gall to roll his eyes at Gabriel's discomfort. "I got this, god." He pulled his coat aside, sweeping it around and over his hip to reveal a gun holster on his belt. In one quick move, Colt held a silver revolver in his hand, pushing Gabriel behind him as he pulled back the hammer.

The damn fool had been armed this entire time.

Now Gabriel couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Of course, you snuck in a gun. How American."

Colt's free hand came down to smack Gabriel's shoulder, followed by a harsh whisper. "If you want to lead the charge with a white flag, be my guest. Otherwise, I'm gonna trust the handy old revolver on this one."

The living statue's head slowly followed the arc of Colt's hand as he brandished the weapon in an almost curious fashion, making no attempt to defend itself. Gabriel could swear that the gargoyle's lips almost resembled an amused grin. It either didn't see Colt as a threat, or it knew Colt wasn't a threat.

An ear-piercing bang exploded from the revolver's barrel, causing Gabriel to lurch back and clasp his ears.

It was then followed by a weak, dankly little ting noise as the bullet harmlessly bounced off the gargoyle's forehead and tapering to the floor.

Oh yeah, it was most certainly grinning.

"…You wanna try that again, Cowboy?"

The gargoyle threw itself off it's perch with a mighty roar, it's wingspan stretching far enough to snuff out the view of the balcony. The force of its landing reverbed across the tight space, knocking both men off balance. In Gabriel's case, this meant the man that was twice his size was thrown right up against him, crushing Gabriel's body against the wall and thwacking him upside the head.

"Okay, mistakes were made. I can admit that." Colt called out as he fired three more shots, none of which so much as slowed the creature's advanced – all it accomplished was pissing the gargoyle off.

The five stages of grief passed through Colt's eyes in a matter of seconds, forced to accept that guns couldn't help him here. Instead, he grabbed hold of Gabriel's shoulder and shoved him towards the stairs. "Maybe it's time we take inspiration from your people's great history and run."

One last push sent Gabriel off his feet, tumbling down the first few steps and slamming his nose against the wall. It would be a miracle if Gabriel didn't have a flattened, crooked nose for the rest of his life after all this.

Then again, the rest of his life might only compose of two more minutes at this rate.

A pained scream tore through the stillness like a jagged blade slicing through silk. It began as a guttural moan, low and strained, before escalating into a crescendo of agony that echoed off the walls.

It demanded Gabriel's attention, stopping him in his tracks and force his head around to gaze up to the top of the stairs. Colt hadn't made it past the first step, leaning against the banister with blood dripping from a freshly mauled wound on his arm. The gargoyle loomed over him, the rest of Colt's blood staining it's teeth as it let out a low growl at him.

"That's… That's the only hit you're gonna get." Colt huffed, wobbling as he tried to push himself back onto the support of his legs. "I've taken on bulls bigger than you… C-Come on then!"

Despite the lack of strength in his words, or his body language, Colt showed that he was determined to carry them through. He crouched down, glaring up at the beast as it's ragged roaring, which sounded almost like laughter, washed over him.

Wounded pride seemed to sting Colt more than the physical wound, urging him through the pain as he pushed off his feet and rushed towards the gargoyle. In an amazing feat of strength and stupidity, Colt proceeded to full on tackle to creature, managing to knock it off balance just enough to slam both of them through the balcony railing and over the edge.

Mid-tackle, the creature fully extended it's wings, taking flight with Colt now in it's grip before Gabriel could even hope it would be dragged down into a deadly drop.

Where that took them next, Gabriel couldn't say as he'd already ripped his gaze away from the scene and took off sprinting down the staircase. His body fell into autopilot, working solely on adrenaline and the command of 'Be literally anywhere else', as his mind launched into fractured, panicked, berating thoughts at five hundred words a minute.

How did I get here? He cried to himself, hopping down an extra two steps. How did I get talked into this? I should be at home, in bed, dreading that Mr. Burke is going to be drunk when we open the shop tomorrow. Not running for my life from mythological beasts!

As he slinked through the length of the winding staircase, he could hear the battle raging outside of his perception. Even over the overwhelming howl of the rainfall, the brutal sound of roof panels and stone ramparts being smashed through and bestial roars calling for blood struck loud and clear.

He shouldn't be here. He repeated this to himself like a prayer, swearing that he'll never drink again, that he'll find the nearest exit, run out into the rain and not look back until he found himself in the safety of his own bed again.

He always feared strangers as potential threats, that they only bring trouble, and this only further lent credence to that idea. Sure, it was not at all in the way he expected it to be proven, but that didn't make it any less of a confirmation.

Soon enough, he broke free of the tight confines of the staircase, finding a fraction of relief in the wide, open berth of the Cathedral's base. More space to move, more space to hide, and more space to breathe – perfect when facing down a monster.

As he rushed in the direction of the entrance, he heard the guttural roar of the gargoyle's battle cry rapidly gaining volume. He had a split second to throw his arms over his head like a shield before the stained-glass window just above him shattered, a large grey, wriggling shape smashing through it and diving into the pews.

Gabriel only caught a brief glance at the scene, witnessing a battered and beaten Colt crawl away from under the gargoyle. A bit away from the landing site, Gabriel spotted one of the gargoyle's wings, broken apart and severed during whatever struggle it had in the air.

The gargoyle thrashed about for a moment before rolling itself back to it's feet, cracks now decorating it's seemingly impenetrable fake flesh. No longer laughing but screaming bloody murder.

Again, Gabriel's look was only brief before he turned back to his objective, not daring to pause his stride for even a moment. There was no finer opportunity to escape than when your pursuer is distracted by another.

His body collapsed the moment he broke through the doors and cleared the steps, as if the rain hammering down upon him until his knees hit the mud signalled he was out of the danger area. There was no logic to assuming that the gargoyle was limited to the Cathedral, but he feared any attempt to deter his own deluded reassurance would surely cause his rapidly beating heart to implode.

"I've never been so happy to see the rain!" He gasped, leaning back and letting the downpour wash over him.

In the distance, as he tried to regain the breath the chase had stolen from him, his eyes made out the beams of light from Nathalie's car. All of the sudden he felt a sharp sting in his chest. He frowned, pulling back the layers of his coat to gaze down at- The broach. His butterfly, it almost sounded like it was buzzing.

"A shame what happened to Colt, but he's the one who wanted to come here in the first place. It's not my fault it got him into trouble."

He didn't intend to say that thought out loud, but peering down at the butterfly suddenly made him feel self-conscious, as if he had to explain himself to it.

A loud crash escapes the Cathedral through the thin seams of a door left ajar.

"I mean, he's probably fine. Big man like that, he can find his way out."

Without eyes, the butterfly somehow stared back at him, judging him. Gabriel sat back on the grass, paying no mind to how the mud ruined his clothes or how the rain tore apart his hair; all that mattered was this opinionated piece of jewellery.

He dropped the broach into his palm, holding it up to his eyes to agnify his glare.

"And it's not like I could do anything to help him."

He snapped, a fierce tongue without reason to cover up the cowardice dripping from it's edge.

Coward. That's what the butterfly would be calling him if it wasn't so polite, and quiet. Quiet, not silent. He didn't know how he could differentiate when he couldn't hear a single word, but there was just an understanding, an instinct that told him there was noise. He just knew.

Not that he was entertaining this delusion.

"I could die in there. Emilie can't marry a dead man, can she?"

It wiggled, but that might have just been Gabriel curling his fingers. But she wouldn't want to marry a man who leaves another for dead.

But what does he – this little, quivering voice he couldn't accept was real – know about Emilie?

The same as you. It seemed to retort so easily.

Gabriel frowned, even his delusions were smart asses. Couldn't he imagine someone who'd be content to validate and praise him for not running headfirst into danger?

Another shot rang out. Gabriel blinked. It was loud enough to snap Gabriel out of his conversation and make him realize he was standing back by the entrance, hand on the side of the door.

Gabriel looked down at his hands, at his feet, at these bodyparts that had betrayed his natural survival instinct and dragged him back towards the threat. "…Am I seriously considering this?"

He could leave.

He should leave.

He has to leave.

Why wasn't he running the other way? Gabriel Grassette didn't feel shame, nor guilt, nor honour, nor anything that would make sense of this. Logically, he shouldn't die for some country bumpkin's thrill-seeking foolishness.

The only conclusion that made sense, as he pushed his way back through the doors, was that Gabriel had suffered irreparable brain damage. This theory only became more plausible when Gabriel launched himself back into the main hall, spotted the gargoyle sweeping Colt aside, and decided to throw rocks at it.

They weren't even big rocks, they were chunks of the gargoyle's very own skin knocked off in the scuffle, broken down to the size of a pebble. When the second one managed to strike it across the snout (the first pathetic throw had barely closed half the distance), the beast reacted with incredulous surprise more than anything.

Gabriel watched as it stopped, slowly inclined it's head to observe the tiny weapon he'd fruitlessly attacked it with, and then turned to look at him with almost pity. First my broach, now the statue; maybe the Cathedral really is judging me.

Colt, instead of using this opportunity to escape like a sane man, fired off another ineffective shot. You know, like a fucking moron.

"Colt, stop shooting it!" Gabriel hissed. "It's not working!"

The gargoyle turned back to the cowboy that was determined to stay standing, snapping it's jaws with an annoyed growl. Claws stabbed into the ground, throwing the beast into a charge with a noise akin to nails on a chalkboard punctuating every step.

Colt finally chucked the revolver to the floor with a grunt, dropping down into a roll to avoid the charging beast. "Do you have any better ideas?" He called back over to Gabriel, warily watching the gargoyle collide with the wall, making a big enough hole to get it's arm stuck in.

Gabriel desperately looked around the room, desperately searching for any source of inspiration that would overcome the rational part of his mind that just repeated 'RUN. AWAY'. Over and over again. "I'm working on it…"

More rocks pooled at his feet. They were useless, not even enough to capture the beast's attention.

The pillars looked strong, sturdy. If they came down they could bring the roof on the beast's head. If they had any way of breaking the pillars without getting themselves buried alive as well.

The full force of Nathalie's car had to be enough to break it apart. Assuming they could make it over to her, and assuming she had a good strip of land to get a head start, and… Assuming the beast didn't just fly over it.

"There's got to be something…" Gabriel rasped his knuckles against his forehead, hoping he could knock the answers out into the open. "Think, Gabi. Think! What do you know about the creature? Why is it even attacking us?"

Okay, maybe magic was real, he could admit that. But maybe it wasn't real in the way other's thought of it? It was just science that hadn't been studied yet, right? It had to have rules, reasonings, a purpose, right?

The creature didn't attack us straight away, did it? Gabriel reasoned with himself, thinking back to his first scare by the statue. He clicked his fingers together, stimulating the gears in his brain. Yes, he was scared by the statue. The statue didn't become a creature, not until they found that symbol Colt was looking for.

The creature is a guard dog for whatever secret Colt was after.

At that same moment, Gabriel looked back over the beast as it bounced between pulling it's arm out and blindly swiping at Colt. At that moment, he observed a glowing, familiar symbol on it's forehead. A series of blocks that looked like an upside-down house.

"So, it carries the same symbol as the 'keyhole'..." Gabriel pondered, "What if…"

He snapped his fingers, the realization lighting up his face. He bit back the urge to laugh at how obvious it seemed in hindsight. They just needed to prove to the 'guard dog' that they were allowed to be there.

Gabriel waved Colt over just as the gargoyle finally escaped it's self-made prison, "Colt, that key you were talking about. Whip it out!"

Colt bolted from the spot, retreating to the other side of the room. His face fell, taking a moment to process and catch up to Gabriel's words. "He's not a dog, Gabe. He's not interested in playing fetch." He said, exasperated.

Gabriel doesn't reply with anything more than his eyes, just insisting 'trust me' over and over until Colt let out a grouchy sigh. "It's in the satchel, remember?"

A pregnant pause allowed for Gabriel to both mentally and physically slap himself.

The next instant was him dropping to the floor, hastily flipping open the satchel bag and desperately rifling through it's contents.

"What does it look like?" Gabriel asked.

Colt's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, forming a high arch above his eyes. His lips parted slightly in a faint grimace, letting out an exasperated raspy call. "A fucking key! What else?"

The next minute was nothing but tense air carrying the noise of rustling leather and the gargoyle's hammer-like footsteps.

Some old compass.

Lots of ammo.

Gabriel could glimpse Colt from the corner of his eye, barely keeping a step out of the beast's maw.

Whiskey bottle.

Books.

Pictures of a very ugly looking child that may or may not be Colt.

Colt tried to dodge the gargoyle by running around it, which would have worked swimmingly… If the gargoyle didn't still have a tail. In an instant it whipped around, hitting his stomach dead on and slamming him into the wall.

Gabriel muttered curse words under his breath like a prayer, turning the satchel upside-down in frustration and dumping it's contents by his knees.

How much ammo did one man need!? And how did Colt manage to stuff all this into such a tiny satchel?

Thankfully, it didn't take much sifting through the pile to notice the bright glimmer that powered through everything. Gabriel knew long before he picked it up and held it up before the moonlight that he found it.

In looks, it was a simple, if enlarged, golden key with that same symbol on it's base. But there was something ethereal about its presence, like approaching a glitchy image flicker in and out of it's shape, yet knowing it was as solid as your touch.

He plucked it from the pile and shot to his feet, kicking aside everything in his way and pumping his body faster than his long, stocky legs could have ever dreamed of. On his approach, the gargoyle loomed over Colt, it's foot, which might as well have been a dumbbell, pinning him to the ground.

Just as it opened it's mouth wide, lunging in to take Colt's head off with the final, definitive blow, Gabriel made his move. He dove through the air, closing the distance with a split second to spare and landing on top of Colt, the sole barrier between Colt and the beast.

By his theory, he was sure that just brandishing the key would do, but Gabriel decided to smack the gargoyle across the nose with it instead.

Fortunately, it had the same effect.

It was instantaneous. The moment the monster caught sight of the key, it froze on the spot, as if the scene was a recording someone had paused.

Gabriel and Colt wasted no time scrambling off the nearest corner, out of the beast's grasp, unable to express anything other than their own choking gasps.

Colt patted down his own body, checking everything was still in place, that this wasn't just the last neurons in his brain firing. His voice was barely understandable – kicked up to a high pitched, gasping whine. "Holy sh- How did that work?"

"A little bit of ingenuity." Gabriel leaned back against the wall, still unable to believe it had worked himself. "And a lot of dumb luck, I suppose."

Suddenly Colt rounded on him, a mad glint in his eye and the height difference making for a rather intimidating figure now that Gabriel was fresh from a near-death experience. Before Gabriel could say anything, gloved hands shot out to grab him by the shoulders and yank him into a full on bear hug.

"I'll be, you got some grit in ya after all." Colt called out, a boisterous laugh breaking through his coughing lungs. "You bloody genius you!"

For the first time in a long time, Gabriel felt almost sheepish. "Well, I… Uh... I wouldn't have had time to figure it out if you hadn't played bait."

Though maybe it was because he had been seconds away from abandoning the very man that was praising him.

"True, very true." Colt took on a face of fake contemplation, switching the hug to leave one arm over Gabriel's shoulder, pulling Gabriel tight against his side. "We did it 'cus we're geniuses. Hehe, we make one hell of a pair, ey?"

Gabriel scoffed, trying to maintain his composure. "I guess you could say that."

"Even if you are French."

Gabriel felt utterly embarrassed that Colt's comment actually managed to make him crack a smile. "Show some respect to your betters, American. You got us into this situation in the first place."

Feeling more confident now, the two cautiously approached the frozen gargoyle. Immediately they noticed that the symbol on it's forehead was still glowing, only now, on closer inspection, Gabriel could see an indent in the centre. An indent that looked almost like a keyhole.

The two men shared a tense look. This was really happening.

Colt slapped Gabriel on the shoulder. "Well, go on then. Open the door."

"This is your prize," Gabriel said back, unable to tell if he said it out of fear or fair play. "Don't you want to do the honours?"

Another minute passed, just waiting, anticipation gnawing on every second, staring down at the key – neither man having the guts to take that final step alone. So, instead, they put on hand over the other and took that step together.

The moment the key's tip brushed up against the lock it was swallowed by the stone, ripped out of their hands before they could blink.

However, after they blinked, they were no longer in the main hall. Gabriel opened his eyes to find himself back in the bell tower. The statue had returned to it's original position, in it's original pose, and with it's wing back in place. In fact, the railing was intact too, right down to maintaining the layer of dust Gabriel had swept up before.

Colt stood beside him, not a spec of dirt or bruise to his name, gasping in shock as he gripped his arm. His arm that was no longer bleeding.

It was as if their fight had never happened.

The real change came when they turned away, back to the twin bells. The bell they had found the symbol engraved into now sat on it's side, presenting it's interior to them. However, there was no reflection of the gold surface past it's base. The bell's bottom was outlined in a thin, blue hue – and inside this circle of blue there were a set of stairs that couldn't possibly be there.

Gabriel couldn't stop himself chuckling as he pushed past Colt. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

Colt rolled his eyes, but was quick to follow. "Someone's sounding much more eager now."

Gabriel crouched down by the portal, sticking his head into it just to show himself it was real. A few minutes earlier he would have scolded himself for acting so reckless, but now? Magic was real, and a childish part of him he'd left forgotten was eager to see more of it.

Still, he kept his voice even and his expression cold. "I think I reserve the right to be interested in what I almost died for."

The journey down the staircase was short, but impactful. It wasn't until they were fully submerged in the portal that they realized there were no walls, no ceiling, nothing but the steps and the ethereal blue void around them.

Gabriel would pause a few steps down, holding his breath to gaze over the abyss in utter awe, spotting webs of vibrating, flashing lines that looked like some sort of nerves system display. If he squinted, he could almost make out the faded outline of landmarks in the distance, peaking through the layers of the web. In his heart, he'd imagine it was the entire world compressed into the link between these two destinations.

Colt was far less enthused. In fact, glancing back at him, Gabriel found the man's face had paled and his walk had dwindled to cautious, hunched-over steps.

"Afraid of heights?" Gabriel teased.

"There should be some damn railings on this thing." Colt grumbled, "I barely fit on these tiny steps, and I don't wanna know where all that crap ends."

Eventually, they found themselves at another portal, this one a rectangle door shaped outline that peered into a dimly lit room. Stepping inside, Gabriel found himself immediately embraced by a refreshing warmth that seemed to instantly dissolve all evidence the rain had left on his clothes.

Peering around, it was a cozy little space that showed some signs of age. A wide circular room wrapping around a massive pillar in the centre, which the two had just walked out of. The floor was wooden panels while the walls were built from stone slabs varying in shades of red and brown.

Cobwebs hung amongst wooden rafters, dust clung to tables and bookshelves that hadn't been used in years, the carpet's lush red colour had long since faded to a darker shade. And yet, the first thing Gabriel was met with was the fresh fireplace bellowing out to them.

Every corner of the room was fitted with a torch carrying a similar crimson fire, and Gabriel noticed from each that it wasn't coal or wood that burned at their centre, but a strange crystal.

Gabriel moved forward with caution. There was no sign of life in the room, but who knew how quickly one of these inanimate objects could suddenly be possessed to guard these possessions.

Idly, he ran his fingers over the shelves, noting how none of the titles on the books' spines were legible. Drawing closer to the fireplace, he spotted stacks of scrolls, chests and opened books. He still couldn't read them, they weren't in French and he was certain they weren't in any normal language, but he could make out an image or two.

The one that caught his eye depicted a puzzle box, once again baring that damn symbol, that unfolded to reveal many hidden compartments that housed strange trinkets.

"It looks like a study." He said, moving closer to the table.

However, the moment he rounded on the table, he made the mistake of looking up towards the chair positioned in front of it. The chair was wooden, but almost looked like a large throne. When they had first entered, they could only see the back of it, they couldn't see that it was occupied.

A body, barely any flesh left clinging to it, sat slumped in the throne, its eyeless sockets staring blankly back at Gabriel. It was adorned in a robe, the symbol prominently displayed on the chest.

"Hello there, Mr. Skeleton." Colt whistled, leaning down to get a better look. "Those are some mighty odd robes you're wearing."

How did we not smell a rotten corpse when we came in? Gabriel thought to himself, the questions overwhelming his desire to panic or jump back. His gaze moved around the room again, once more noting the flames and the strange crystal fuel. The man had been here long enough to decompose, for dust to settle, for things to age, and yet the fire was fresh. Was this another wonder of magic? To preserve the room, but not the life?

With no respect or shame, Colt poked the dead man's head, much to Gabriel's disgust. "This is our 'secret keeper' then?"

Distracting himself with more queries, Gabriel focused on the man's robes. He made a curious hum, thinking back to the many styles of clothing he'd studied over the years. It certainly wasn't of French design, and he was sure that Norway lacked this sort of flair. "Looks like something you'd find further east. What was this guy doing so far from home?"

Colt rubbed his hands together. "Protecting something important, I'll bet."

Tearing his eyes away from the corpse, Gabriel returned to the table, plucking the parchment depicting the puzzle box. He still didn't recognise the writing, but he noticed a pattern with the trinkets being depicted, they were all connected to an animal. A ladybug, a cat, a turtle, a bee… A butterfly.

He sifted through more parchments, finding that someone had written down additional notes on them in what he thought might have been mandarin. More images of figures seemingly wielding magic of their own, of being blessed by animals, of facing down monsters. But without the ability to read any of the descriptions, all it was to him was nonsense without context.

At least, until he got to the last page. That page made him freeze for a moment, a new wave of understanding threatening to knock the wind out of him then and there. But he didn't alert Colt to this, he rather quickly and silently folded up the parchment and stuffed it in his pocket.

"This doesn't look like any language I've ever seen." Gabriel remarked, squinting down at the table.

"It's a message written in code." Colt said with full confidence. Not boisterous or arrogant confidence, but the confidence of a man who already knew. "And only the friends of our dead guy here would have the cypher for it."

Gabriel turned to him, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What do you know, Colt?"

Colt sucked in his breath, holding that tension in his throat until he finished pushing back his hair. His pale eyes avoided looking to Gabriel, averted to focus on something else, something in his mind. Or, Gabriel speculated, someone. Someone who might have forbade Colt from answering this sort of question.

Gabriel wondered what Colt's collector friends would think of Colt enlisting the help of the common rabble to help explore this new world. He had to imagine that such groups liked to remain secret, keep their relations distant and tidy. Certainly not sharing their knowledge with some low class tailor they stumbled across at a party.

Then Colt shrugged it off and met Gabriel's gaze, his face as serious as such an unserious man could allow. "There's been theories of some ancient society that hoards powerful objects." Colt leaned closer, one hand raised to limply gesture to the portal behind them. "And we ain't talking card tricks and rabbits in hats, we're talking cats and dogs living together – real wrath of god shit."

Shamelessly, he reached down to tug on the dead man's robe, pulling the fabric around the symbol taught to make it even clearer to Gabriel's gaze. "That's their symbol. We've found bits and pieces of them, but this… This is the first solid evidence we've had to go on."

A secret organisation guarding the world's secrets from the shadows, hoarding everything a man needs to rule the world? It wasn't the first or last time Gabriel would hear such an idea, but it's the only time it felt real.

Looking upon the proof, reflecting upon the fight that nearly claimed his life a moment before, and the prophecy that had certainly been proven; this was more than fanciful conspiracies slung between desperate hooligans looking for purpose.

And if the gargoyle was only a mere taste of the power they were holding, an expendable pawn that could be used to protect a greater power; then what else did this world of magic and miracles have to offer him?

Gabriel bent down, picking up the small chest and cautiously opening the lid. Inside, resting atop plush red fabric, was two gold cuffs. They almost looked like thick shackles that had their chains broken off, leaving small remnant of the chains hanging from them. The material was adorned in dark symbols depicting chains being linked together by squares.

"This looks fancy."

Colt cautiously pulled the box away from Gabriel's hand, holding it close to his chest like it was a fragile vase. "Careful with that!"

Gabriel peered up at him, confused and blinking at the sudden protective outburst.

Colt opened the lid slightly, peering into the contents through the thin slits, laughing to himself. "I've read about these, it's called a 'Dealer'."

He pushed his arm beside Gabriel's, making a closing motion over Gabriel's wrist. "They say it's some sort of magical fine print. People make an agreement or wager or whatever while holding it, and it ensures that whatever rules proposed are followed to the letter, and that any agreed prizes are exchanged."

"How does that work?" Gabriel asked curiously, partially annoyed that he'd found a subject that Colt knew more about than him.

"Not entirely sure," Colt shrugged. A teasing grin reached his lips before he leaned closer and presented the 'dealers' to Gabriel's face, letting Gabriel see the chain parts lightly gleam menacingly. "You wanna test it out?"

Gabriel scowled back, "I think it's time we take our leave."

---

"You two sure didn't waste any time." Nathalie watched them approach from under an umbrella, cold eyes unwavering despite the storm.

"We had quite the night." Gabriel noticed her eyes waver for a moment, a flicker of surprise, at his suddenly chipper tone.

Colt ran past the two towards the car, sheltering the chest now stuffed with documents under his coat. Gabriel fell in lock step with Nathalie on their walk back.

"Are you okay?" He asked, quietly. He wasn't sure if she'd been close enough to hear any of the commotion, but surely she caught sight of the gargoyle tossing Colt through a window. "See anything strange tonight?"

"No?" Nathalie's expression remained unflappable, but a flicker of curiosity betrayed that it wasn't just a front; she had no idea what he was talking about. "Should I have?"

"You didn't hear any noises? See anyone enter the cathedral?"

"Nothing but rain and cars passing by." She shrugged, "Though I was only watching the front entrance."

The effects of the fight hadn't just been repaired, they'd been erased, like nothing happened. Or, perhaps, they hadn't happened. Perhaps Gabriel and Colt never left the bell tower, and the actual fight took place somewhere else.

So many questions, and Gabriel was ready to find the answers.

"Did something happen?" She pursed her lips slightly, a touch of concern so subtle it was almost adorable.

Gabriel paused before he replied, remembering what Colt said about keeping Nathalie with plausible deniability. "Nothing we couldn't handle." He assured her.

They arrived at the back of the car just as Colt slammed the boot shut, not even registering the rain beating down upon him.

"This is a fine haul." He cackled, clapping his hands together just to have an outlet to all this renewed energy.

"If it works." Gabriel reminded him.

Colt shot him a snide smile, "You can still test it."

"I'm good."

Colt leaned back against the car, one hand over his heart while the other held his hat. Upon Nathalie's approach he inclined his head back over to the car, silently telling her to give him and Gabriel some space. Her eyes tried to ask the sense of carrying this conversation outside in the rain, but quickly gave up trying to talk sense into the man, retreating into the warmth of the car.

He pulled the bottle of whiskey from his satchel, popping off the cap and holding it up in a toast. Gabriel hesitated for a moment, but came around eventually, gratefully taking the bottle and knocking back a strong swig that left his throat burning something fierce.

The bottle was passed back, letting Colt take a sip after laughing at the disgusted face Gabriel pulled. "Not bad for your first time." He jeered.

Gabriel scoffed, "Implying that there'll be a next time and I don't pretend this night never happened for the rest of my life."

"Don't try to bullshit me, Gabe." Colt snapped back. It was aggressive, but not angry, not unkind, just blunt like a hammer. "I saw that spark in your eye the minute we got in there."

He paused to take his next gulp of whiskey, practically inhaling the alcohol before passing it to Gabriel. His fingers curled around the bottle neck, leaving his forefinger to rise up to Gabriel's eye-level and point right through him. "You got a taste of power tonight, and there's so much more out there ripe for the taking."

A mad, wolfish grin took over Colt's face, and it suddenly felt like the only thing Gabriel could see. "You're already hooked."

Gabriel squinted into the bottle, admiring the brief glitter of the moon reflected in the rain droplets splashing against the glass. What was inside, what he thirsted for, what he desired; nothing in the outside world could reach it. "That's what you're after: power."

"That's what matters." Colt snapped his fingers, tapping his thumb against the underside of the bottle to gesture for Gabriel to take his drink. "That's what everyone's scrambling for now."

Gabriel tipped the bottle back, eyes burning as he swallowed the liquid fire, blurring his vision until the world became as insignificant visually as it was in his heart. In this twisted perspective of vague shapes and unfocused colours, all he could focus on was Colt's voice.

"During the battle of New York, I had my eyes opened to an entirely new world of possibilities." Colt's cold rasp took hold of him, pulling Gabriel back there, into that place he could only hear about from Colt. "There was a woman who could bench-press a mountain, and I was just some guy with a stick. Then in the years after we got new freak shows popping up every other month all around the world, heroes and villains."

New York, the streets engulfed in flames, beset by the foot soldiers of a super villain, larger-than-life beings wielding powers beyond human capability fighting above the streets. In that position, Gabriel could only imagine himself as a lowly ant hiding under the rubble, witnessing what could only be described as the battle of gods taking place in the sky.

One day, the biggest threat to humanity was nuclear warfare, the worst an individual person was capable of required money, technology and equipment. The next, one woman outclassed weapons of mass destruction just by being born right. Yes, Gabriel could imagine the sheer impact of such a revelation on the battlefield.

"Did any of them have anything like this?" Gabriel gestured vaguely in the direction of the cathedral, of where they left the gargoyle.

"Just one." Gabriel wasn't looking at Colt, yet the image of Colt raising his finger for that definitive number was all his mind's eye could see. "On my last day in the field, we were getting hammered from all sides. We were one foot away from the grave."

It wasn't until Gabriel heard the crinkle of paper that he realized Colt was now holding a parchment under his nose, the one depicting the puzzle box. Colt's thumb pointed to one of the trinkets, one representing the turtle.

"I was on my back, coughing up shrapnel and crying my eyes out when it happened." Colt's voice fell quiet, a soft reverence pushing through. "A man – an old guy, dressed up in green, looking like a fucking turtle or something. Puts up this barrier around me and cuts through those armoured thugs like they were butter."

Gabriel's eyebrows furrowed, confusion weighing heavily on his brow. "I never heard about a second hero during that battle." Majestia was the only name to come from the battle of New York, the other heroes would pop up in the coming months, but she was the sole legend that was spawned in that battle.

"No one did. He showed up, did his part and then disappeared. No footage, no other witnesses. Didn't even leave a name."

Colt's laugh this time around wasn't as jovial, it was haggard, tentative, desperate. Gabriel could practically feel Colt's eyes boring into him, telling himself that his memory wasn't faulty or delusional.

Colt continued, "I was the only one to see him that night, it was so dark that all everyone else saw was a flash of green and then the enemy being knocked aside."

And suddenly Gabriel wondered how many times Colt's word had come into question, and how freeing it might have been to have someone who knows for a fact he isn't crazy.

Gabriel's imagination pulls back, dumping back into the cold, wet reality of the present. Colt had retreated to the car, now nursing his revolver again. "Escalation is just the name of the game. We get pistols to fight off knives, they get machine guns to outpace the pistols, at some point we reach the nuclear option."

He stared down at the weapon pensively, tracing a finger over the barrel, every ineffective shot flashing before his eyes. The gun hadn't been defective, his aim hadn't been off; it had simply been useless before a greater being. "Now we have superpowers, and everyone is gonna be looking to get in on that action from every source they can scrounge up."

Gabriel nodded slowly, piecing it all together. "And you make a pretty profit selling 'em to the highest bidder."

"God no." Colt cried out like a wounded animal, as if the very idea had physically struck him. Gabriel may have lightly jabbed at him for being one of the elites, but Gabriel was beginning to realize that Colt took that as a stake through the heart. "This isn't about turning a profit; this is about surviving."

Colt was a simple man. At first, Gabriel thought that made him an easy person to read, a person who wears their thoughts on short term flickers on their sleeve, whose heart was quick to expose itself, whose head thought only two steps in front of him.

Now, Gabriel pondered that Colt might be simple, but deceptively simple. Whose facets were not hidden away, but made a mess of, overlapping in chaotic ways the rational mind ignored because there was no through line to follow. Because it was all accidental. Being simple didn't make Colt easy to read, it made it easy for the perception of him to be distracted.

Colt chugged down the whiskey like he was putting out a fire in his stomach, only letting go of the bottle when his lungs begged for air. "Those stuffy snobs are gonna be the bastards who get the first pick, and the moment they do they're gonna hold it close to their chest, keep it from everyone else and lord it over all us suckers."

He spoke through gritted teeth, his tongue barbed with wire and venom, his eyes narrowed into a fine, sharp point. "They won't do crap to help the world, they'll keep their powers a secret, pass it on only to their most trusted ass-kissers, rule the world from the shadows; they'll think themselves supreme beings. And we won't be able to do shit about it."

Gabriel averted his eyes, Colt's scowl emitting a heat that not even the rain could hope to extinguish. "Couldn't you just buy it off them?"

Colt's manic laughter broke through the night. "There are some things that not even money can surpass, Gabriel. That is power."

Suddenly, Colt was up in Gabriel's face, the tip of the bottle stabbing into his chest as rancid, whiskey-coated breath punctuated Colt's every word. "You're powerless, Gabriel. You always have been. You've been stamped out, walked over, bullied and ignored. No matter how hard you work, no matter how much you scrape together, you'll always be powerless."

Colt pulled back, a dangerous glint in his eye as he raised the bottle over his head. For one horrid moment, despite how little sense it would make, Gabriel genuinely feared Colt was about to smash the bottle over his head to cap off this sudden outburst of fury.

But no, of course Colt didn't suddenly decide to murder Gabriel. Instead, he smashed the bottle against the ground with such force that the explosion of glass shards scattered to the winds just like the rain. Colt stood there, his towering stature diminishing under the storm, withering down his body language until he looked small and feeble, gazing into the world beyond through tired eyes.

"You wanna get far in life? You wanna settle down with that girl of yours?" Colt said softly, so softly Gabriel almost didn't hear him. "You need power, enough power that her father can't touch you, and you need to take that power before everyone else gets to it."

Something compelled Gabriel to stand beside Colt, staring off into the distance, into the future that was left to experience and all the tribulations it would bring. The future was a daunting prospect, where misery was guaranteed to last while all that made it worth it would be fleeting, leaving just a terrible weight on Gabriel's shoulder.

"Sounds like a bleak existence." He said, almost sounding content with that idea. "Everyone is against us then."

Colt nodded, "Pretty much."

"Doesn't that mean you're against me to?"

"Possibly." Colt shrugged, showing off his blunt edge without shame. "But I'm against everyone else even more, just like you."

"You sound awfully confident."

"You know, I'd already done all my schmoozing yesterday morning. I never needed, nor did I want to, go to that party." Colt lightly punched Gabriel's shoulder, meeting Gabriel's curious eyes with a confident grin. "My horoscope told me I'd find my key there."

Colt leaned back, throwing his arms out to gesture to the distance between them, the connection that brought them to this spot. "The horoscope. Nostradamus' prophecy. Your ability to solve the mystery that had me stumped for weeks. It's all connected."

He then held his hand out, an unspoken offer falling between them. A new life that would start the moment Gabriel took that hand in his own. "I think we were fated to meet, Gabriel. I think we were destined to be partners."

In that moment, Gabriel thought back to the parchment he hid in his pocket, the one that, unknown to Colt, showed that this began long before this night. The parchment that showed the planet being channelled through a tiny, purple creature. The creature that was drawn rising from a broach. A broach that looked just like butterfly wings.

Gabriel didn't know when he took the broach off, or when he dropped in into his palm, but now he clenched it tightly as a new connection opened between him and this trinket. There had always been a part of him that thought himself delusional or desperate, a part that held him back no longer. The truth was finally there for him to grasp, unlocking that fear in his heart and opening it up to whatever dwelled within this broach, to whoever it was that had never left his side.

Since the day he picked up this broach, he'd already been set on the path leading up to this moment, to this decision.

The day he buried his mother.

The day he found his butterfly.

The day he met the real Emilie.

The day he fell in love with her.

The day he made his vow.

Fate was for fools. A fantasy constructed to pretend there was some purpose to your life, a meaning behind the trials and tribulations of your past, proof that your life had worth. And perhaps, for a second, Gabriel was starting to feel foolish.

Gabriel reached for Colt's hand. However, inches from sealing the deal and grabbing his future, Gabriel let slip an evil grin before pulling his hand back. "I have conditions."

Colt pursed his lips, groaning "Uhuh?"

Gabriel's free hand tugged at Colt's coat, a disgusted snarl escaping his throat. "And they start with me changing your wardrobe. That suit is a crime."

Colt lightly punched Gabriel in the shoulder, a childish whine becoming even more comedic from this giant of a man. "I'm talking about great destiny and world changing developments, and all you care about is hustling me."

Gabriel didn't reply, he just crossed his arms. Colt pouted and stared right back. But ultimately, Gabriel's pride as a tailor was unbeatable.

Colt sighed, "Fine, you cheap bastard. But I'm expecting the best if you're gonna hold it over my head like this."

Gabriel's hand shook Colt's, and it felt so right, as if a burden he didn't know had been weighing him down was suddenly lifted. They shared a mad, ambitious, joyous grin.

"Then it's us against the world." Said Gabriel.

Colt chuckled, "I like the sound of that."

Later that night, after Colt had dropped Gabriel off back at his home and Nathalie had scheduled their next meeting, Gabriel found himself unable to sleep. He wasn't restless. No, he was feeling quite pleasant in the moment. The sound of the rain outside his window was almost therapeutic, and even his crummy little living space looked more alive than ever under the soft glow of the moonlight.

He was content to stay awake, gazing into the broach he held tightly in his hand. Now that he knew for sure that it was more valuable than any jewel or treasure, now that he knew how much he owed this artefact, he would never dare part with it again.

He could feel it shake in his palm, thrumming with a new energy in response to it's new connection to his heart. He could almost imagine it as a small animal curling up in his palm, absorbing the warmth overflowing from his body, peering up at him through innocent, curious eyes.

Gabriel recalled one word from the parchment, one that he knew was in a language he had no understanding of, yet could somehow feel the meaning of it in his very soul. A name.

So, your name is Nooroo, huh? Thank you. For everything. I hope that one day we can meet face-to-face.

---

Present Day

Gabriel didn't know when he fell asleep. It can't have been that long ago, the glare of the tainted sky still lingered on the boarded-up window, and the half-eaten pancakes on the table were still warm.

Colt Fathom. The very thought made him flinch, his lips squeezing tight on a sour taste. It had been so long since he remembered that horrid, despicable man. He hadn't dared to even speak that name into existence since… Since the day his obsession began.

Colt had been the last remnant of a previous life, one he had to shed himself of to become what he needed to be. It had been that day, a lifetime ago, he became Hawkmoth.

And since that day, that part of his life, and all the memories that came with it, had been stripped from him. At least, he thought. He'd gone four years sparing no thoughts towards that man, not even when Felix and Amilie had re-entered his life. Why today? Why now?

He gazed down at the open book hanging precariously between his forefinger and his thumb, knowing that the front page would have a small scribble identifying it as a gift from Colt and Amilie. It would be easy to presume that this gift is what brought those memories back to the forefront, but Gabriel couldn't help but feel that was too easy an answer.

So much has changed since then… Gabriel snapped the book shut, running his finger over the author's signature proudly scribbled on the spine. They were simpler times. Before we knew just what powers we were playing with.

A soft sigh escaped him as he tried to think that far back, to before the peacock, before his family broke, before Hawkmoth, before he ruined everything. It was difficult at first, the four-year war against Ladybug had consumed his life so much that it hurt his brain to try and recall a time when he wasn't fighting her.

A time where this mansion was filled with the laughter of friends, the life of activity, and the love of a family content.

He remembered Harry and Emilie once conspiring to fill the mansion with useless junk – 'Clutter is in vogue, Gabbi! It adds character, and it'll keep that boy of yours curious.' – and had an absolute laughing fit watching his blood vessels burst when he found the entrance hall turned into an impromptu circus.

The boys would be climbing up to the most ridiculous of spots to declare themselves the lords of the junkheap, and that they had first dibs of any of the clutter before Gabriel threw it out.

Andre would be off to the side, hiding in some vacant corner, constantly adjusting his tie as he tried to sheepishly tell Gabriel that it wasn't that bad.

Colt would mutter about not knowing which of them were nuttier followed by an obscenity that would get Emilie to scowl at him and Nathalie to tell Adrien and Felix's to cover their ears.

This mansion had once been a home. Before that, it had been something else entirely, something darker, but for a brief period it had been his home. Where he faced the day with friends and family by his side.

Now, it was just empty ruins, a tribute to all the people he lost and all the people he cut out. He was alone now, the last of his family, the last of his memory, the last of his mistakes.

Well, technically he wasn't completely alone. But he assumed that hallucinations didn't count.

The phantom had returned, watching him from the other side of the table. It's form flickered, a projection with a bad connection and bouncing between three frames of movement. It had no face to form expressions, yet he could feel the disappointment radiating from it.

Gabbi Grassette.

He didn't like hearing that name. Maybe Ladybug had been right about the pancake batter…

What. Are- Doing.

The voice in his head was disjointed, like a series of jump cuts in corrupted recording. Each word seemed to stand alone, disconnected from the one before it, creating a stuttering rhythm to it's speech.

"Waiting." Gabriel stated simply.

For. What.

"For the end, I suppose."

What else was there to do but wait? What is to become of a man after he has embraced his end? His last cling to life, his obsession with fixing what he had broken and the powers that enabled it, he had cast them away when he finally accepted Emilie's death and the fruitlessness of his fight against Ladybug.

He should be rotting in the depths of hell, set upon by maggots and filth until he forgets his very name. What ungodly reason could there be for him to still draw breath when his failures would steal it from him anyway?

Ladybug. Help.

He slammed his fist against the table, "I don't want her help."

Even he couldn't fully explain why, but that girl, just the mere mention of her, of what she's done for him, of what ties her to him, broke through his dedication to apathy. So easily she riles up his pride and irritates his ego. He decided to end it. He decided his wish. He decided to concede to her. That doesn't give that damn hero any power over him, he wouldn't allow it.

Ladybug. Danger. Senti-Monster.

"My greatest enemy is in mortal peril? Oh, my heart bleeds." He snarled. Her wellbeing meant nothing to him, it never could. She was his enemy, even when she was helping him.

If it wasn't for her, Hawkmoth would have won, he would have ended this before everything became so dark and wretched.

If she hadn't gotten in his way Monarch would have never happened, and Gabriel would be… Things would be better. Gabriel would have done it better. He knows he would have.

Coward.

He gritted his teeth, hiding the flicker of weakness in his expression with his hand, as if a figment of his own mind needed any eyes other than his own to see how pitiful he really was. "Please, it's none of my business in the first place. She was the one who stupidly decided to go down there."

She. Saved. You.

"That's her mistake." Gabriel found himself falling silent for a moment, as if even he was surprised by his own rebuke. "And even if I were of noble mind, I already paid back that debt by saving her minutes later."

You. Saved. Colt.

"And look how that ended." Gabriel snapped from behind Hawkmoth's eyes.

Gabriel was a man of many regrets, but Colt Fathom was the one that cut the deepest. He'd been a fool, blinded by his own misery and thirst for power, back then to trust that man. If he had walked away that night, if he had left Colt to be consumed by the gargoyle; maybe all of this could have been avoided.

"Why should I care about Ladybug?" He spat, slamming both palms down on the table. "Why should I care about anything? It's over. I'm done. I'm finished with… With everything."

Ladybug. Butterfly. Must be unified again.

He let out a bitter laugh, "I must make nice with her to save my immortal soul, to chase the illusion of redemption, is that it?"

No. Must be unified. Save us all. Save. Adrien.

Gabriel's eyes softened, turning his head towards the window. Adrien had to exist somewhere in this corrupted image of Paris. He had to be safe, Nathalie would have made sure Adrien didn't get involved in anything dangerous. Even at his worse, even when he destroyed her faith in him and pushed her to despise him, Gabriel knew he could trust Nathalie with Adrien.

But then Ladybug's theory came to mind, that Miss Rossi was involved in all of this. Gabriel had no love for that girl or her conniving ways, but she had her uses back in the day for a villain whose powers depended on the emotional turmoil of others. But quickly, through his connection to her mind through Volpina and the power plays she made even without his influence, he had soured on his image of her.

Hawkmoth tried not to pry too deeply into the mind of his akumas, both because even he had lines he tried not to cross and because it was oh so easy to get swept up in the ocean of someone's emotions if he tried to swim in them. But he didn't need to do that with Lila to be confronted by the flickers of a more sinister obsession in her heart, to uncover her blossoming, murderous hatred of him (and especially the woman who turned out to be Ladybug) and her… Shameless thoughts on his son.

He had cut her off with ease, fully convinced that any power she had was only what he himself had offered her. But now she had taken his power for herself, and she had free reign to do what she wished with it in a world without Ladybug.

From. Our. Mistakes.

He failed in his mission to repair his broken family, and now Adrien was at the mercy of a woman with Hawkmoth's power and an unhealthy obsession with him.

Could Nathalie protect Adrien from that? Could she protect Adrien from… Him?

Gabriel shook his head, shooting to his feet as his denial overpowered his rationality. "What am I even doing?" He laughed, clasping his head with one hand and aggressively pointing at the phantom with the other. "Arguing with my own hallucinations is a pointless effort."

He paced around the room, adjusting his bowtie again and again. "I don't care about Ladybug. I don't care about Marinette Dupain Cheng." He cried out. To the phantom, to himself, to the world; he didn't know. "She wouldn't have been worthy of Adrien anyway. She doesn't even like pancakes."

With every fumble of his tie, he couldn't help but instinctively reach out for that empty space under it all, fruitlessly scratching his nails across his chest as if he would dig out that familiar broach from under his skin. He was crying out into the void hoping that he could coax it into letting him hear Nooroo again.

He could stay.

He should stay.

He has to stay.

Gabriel Agreste didn't feel shame, nor guilt, nor honour, nor anything that would make sense of this. Gabriel Agreste was better than Gabi Grassette. Gabriel was stronger, smarter, wiser, more powerful.

Gabi was supposed to be better.

Gabriel was supposed to be better.

Hawkmoth was supposed to be better.

And yet none of them had been good enough.

"Stupid girl…" He growled, "Why did you let me live?"

---

Next Time - Marinette's Wild Ride:

What am I supposed to do? She bit down on her lip, resisting the urge to voice that thought as a cry. All she could hear now was the overwhelming thumping of her heart, but no amount of adrenaline was going to get her out of this. I've gotten out of worst situations than this, right? I've… I've always found a way.

Tikki always found a way, Ladybug always found a way, a snide little voice in the back of her head (that sounded an awful lot like Hawkmoth) chided her. And on a bitter note, she couldn't help but agree. Tikki was always the brain and the power of Ladybug, wasn't she? Marinette was just the tool Tikki channelled her wisdom through. When Marinette was in doubt, she called on Tikki for the solution, she called on Tikki to enable her. Without the powers of the ladybug, what good could Marinette do?

Sure, she had a good thing going for a while, Adrien even called her his everyday Ladybug. She smiled at the memory for a moment, but that cloud of crippling doubt came quick and hard. Before the ladybug miraculous, Marinette was nobody, she was a shut in who hid from Chloe and depended on Socqueline to fight her battles for her. She didn't fight her own battles, she didn't confront the obstacles in life, she didn't get involved with anyone or anything.

All the good she'd done, all the people she befriends or helped, all the things she achieved; that was because of the miraculous, wasn't it? Even when not fighting akumas as Ladybug, it was only the knowledge that she had that power on standby any time she needed it that allowed her to thrive.

All she was good at was running away and hiding, and she had nowhere left to run.

"I can't… I can't…" She heard her weapon clatter to the floor, freeing her hands to reach up and desperately grab at her hair. "I have to do something. Everyone's counting on me. But I just… I just-"