"You know you really love someone when you don't hate them for breaking your heart."
Monarch is dead. Paris is in shambles. Trouble is brewing.
Trouble by the name of Lila Rossi.
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Marinette flexed her taut muscles, suppressed anxiety simmering beneath a layer of orange latex.
Her fingers, clad in black gloves, closed around the rod at her back, twirling it in an attempt to acclimate.
Alya smiled encouragingly, ushering her towards the door after checking beyond it for stray students.
“Remember Marinette, you're still Ladybug. With or without the mask,” Alya said firmly before Marinette took off running, a split second of hesitation at the doorway before she pushed off the ground and launched through the air.
She had no yo-yo to support her, only the trust in her own leap to direct her as she landed on a rooftop, spinning on her heel to locate the Akuma.
A moment of silence loaded the air, before a deafening crash shook Paris from just behind the school.
Muscle memory kicked in, and Marinette found herself behind the school building, where, in the middle of the road, standing deathly still, was a young girl, no older than Marinette herself, wearing regular civilian clothes and surrounded by chasms in the road snaking out from her feet.
Crouched in a secluded shadow, Marinette considered calling the rest of her team, before the girl suddenly jerked, a high wail piercing the air, her leg stamping hard on the cracked concrete and sending a shockwave out from the impact.
A choked scream tore from Marinette's throat when the building she leaned against cleaved in two, the trembles wrought by whatever supernatural ability this akuma presented, shaking the city to its very core.
Marinette flustered for a half second longer, pulling her flute off her back to call her team when she became acutely aware of the silence.
The earth was still shaking, but its cause was dead silent.
She looked up to find the girl once again in a statue-like stance, arms pinned to her side and gaze locked on the dark corner where Marinette cowered.
Her face was blank, seconds spreading thickly until she nodded at whatever propaganda had been whispered in her ear by the butterfly holder.
Marinette, knowing she'd been discovered, twirled her flute in her hand and attempted to look nonchalant as she met the villain in the middle of the street.
“And here I thought Monarch was dead,” she announced, painfully aware of the listening ears.
“And here I thought Ladybug and Chat Noir were the heroes of Paris,” The girl countered, lips twitching upwards at Marinette's less than subtle flinch, “you are?”
Marinette ignored her and shifted her grip on her weapon, envisioning herself as Ladynoire with the slim rod as she launched herself forwards, aiming for the girl's head.
