Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you asked someone to imagine the worst city in the world and put that place on a map, you get Gotham. Corrupt police, corrupt politicians, crime rate so high it shoots off the graph, constant dreary rain, et cetera. Oh, and to top it off, Gotham had its own set of superhuman criminals running about.

Even the architecture felt like it carried the spirit of the city. big, tall imposing buildings, sharp iron gates on every window (that never seemed to stop break-ins...) and menacing gargoyles on the corners of every other building. And weirdly enough, Adrien - aka Chat Noir felt... strangely at home. Gotham was no Paris, not by a long shot. In Paris, you could get delicious pastries from some of the best bakeries in the world, visit historical landmarks and, most importantly, walk around without the constant fear of getting mugged. In Gotham, local businesses were fighting a losing battle to Big Belly Burger and the like, the historical landmarks were falling to pieces and, well, it's Gotham. Crime was a local hobby.

"At least the view's not bad." Chat Noir sighed, standing up. Gotham had skyscrapers and tall buildings in spades, especially in the newer parts. He really wished he had something like Ladybug's yo-yo lately. He was getting better climbing huge towers with just his claws and the staff, but God was it time consuming.

He took a running leap to divebomb off the tower he was in, catching himself with his tail around a lamppost. He made quick work of hopping over to the shorter buildings, weaving out of sight seamlessly. Adrien wasn't too keen on letting the entire city know a French superhero was here yet, even though the French model side had been out and about for a few days now. Despite what Ladybug thought, Chat did actually put effort into hiding his identity. He needed to build a disconnect between himself and, well, himself before he really got involved in Gotham's super-criminals. 

As Chat neared his temporary penthouse apartment, his senses, both smell and hearing, picked up the sound of his bodyguard, Placide, knocking on the door (Thank God Adrien stopped calling him Gorilla before the man ever heard of it, that would be mortifying). With the grace of a practiced cat, he slithered between the crack of a window he left askew and detransformed in a short flash of green light.

"Ugh, finally! Thought we'd stay up therefore- MMMFF!!?" Plagg, the billions-of-years-old god that gave Adrien powers, and the world's most annoying roomie, was cut off by a pillow flying over him just as Placide knocked. The tiny force of nature phased though the pillow with hiss, glaring at Adrien before flying to his minifridge. The blond sent an apologetic glance, before he donned the most plastic smile possible, opening the door. "Hey Placide, good morning! Sorry I didn't hear you. I was in the bathroom."

"Breakfast." The bodyguard grumbled. He took a short glance into Adrien's room before walking off without another word, and Adrien closed the door behind him with a sigh. 

"Oh, that was close."

Plagg emerged with a mocking laugh. "The bathroom? how many times have you used that excuse?"

Adrien rolled his eyes. He began to change into day clothes. "Shush. What else was I gonna say? That I just ignored him the first time he knocked?" 

 "Eh. At least you didn't say you were in the shower." The cat-god dodged a flying pillow, snickering. "So, what's the plan? is Chat Noir making a grand debut tonight?"

Adrien was unsure. "Isn't it a bit soon to go public? We've only been here a few days." Plagg however, scoffed as if offended. "My quantum masking game is flawless. Nobody short of the guardians could figure you out, and I'm so bored!" He whined.

"I thought you hated going out?" Adrien raised his eyebrow, to which Plagg shrugged. "Yeah, in Paris. I've been in Paris for 80 years, Adrien. Gotham, on the other hand... last time I was here, America was at war with itself. Running around on buildings is fun and all, but..."

"Yeah, I get what you mean." Adrien nodded. Fighting akumas was getting painfully repetitive. Not that they weren't dangerous, but anyone would go stir-crazy dealing with the same three angry Parisians every few days. People were getting wiser on how to protect themselves from Hawkmoth's butterflies, so the super terrorist was relying largely on a revolving set of villains with a new one every now and then.

Akuma fights were like clockwork. The alert comes through, and within a minute or two there was a Miraculous hero on sight. Ladybug was either there first or arrived right after the fight to cast her cure. Hell, lately, the akuma was dealt with before Adrien even knew about it. It was a bit frustrating honestly. The... argument he'd had with ladybug before he left certainly didn't help matters.

"...Okay. We'll go looking for trouble tonight. For now, though, I have work."

Later that day when the sun had fully set, Chat Noir came out. He didn't have a destination at the moment, but he imagined the real nitty-gritty elements of Gotham preferred the less shiny parts of the city. Leaping over apartments and slingshotting with power lines and streetlights, the streets began to shift. trash and filth became more present, and vice versa, the amount of people walking about. The scent of smoke was almost overpowering to him, but though the intense smell he picked up a feint trace...

Gunpowder.

It was coming from an alleyway tucked tightly between two apartments. Closer now, Chat could make out four beating hearts. He stayed above, eyes shining green against the dark sky. If any of them looked up for even a second, they would have spotted him easily. Too bad they were all locked in a tense standoff.

One of the men aimed a pistol directly at another, whose arms were raised in a terrified gesture. The other two stood back, flanking the armed man. Their shoulders were squared and tense, nervous. Afraid of something. "You think I'm stupid, Frankie? You think Black Mask was just gonna let you walk? Nah, that isn’t how it works. See, we make examples outta folks like you."

One of the grunts put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hey dude, I don't think we should be around here. I think we're on the edge of Red Hood's territory..."

"So?" He barked. "The Hood can't be everywhere at once. Not a chance the Bat freak shows up."

"No bats tonight, my friends." Chat quipped, dropping down a with only the faintest thud of his boots. He extended the staff like second nature, twirling it. "Just a cat, sorry to disappoint. Now, what seems to be the problem here?"

Frankie fell to the floor, crawling towards Chat. "You’ve got to help me, man! They want to kill me - Black Mask wants to kill me!" He begged. The mafia grunt whipped his between Chat and the beggar. One of the other grunts, clearly either less experienced or utterly terrified, pulled his own gun out and fired. Adrien easily dodged out of the way of with a sigh. 

"Excuse me, I was talking to Frankie." He rolled his eyes, lifting said man easily. "Sorry about that. Just stay here for a few while I deal with these gentlemen, yeah?"

Frankie nodded rapidly, looking back to the three grunts before running down the alley. The head grunt yelled. "Oh, screw off, vigilante! There's already a billion of you freaks!" He shot his gun, which prompted the others to fire as well. Chat fell into a rhythm of flipping over and dodging around the bullets. A fist against one head, heel against another and a quick, final whip of his baton brought the three down easily.

"Well boys, this was fun, but I believe it's time we wrapped this up!" He wiped his hands, standing over the three downed gang members. "Frankie! you can come out!" 

The man slowly emerged from behind a dumpster. "Wow... thanks, uh..."

"Oh, my name's Chat Noir. "

"...Chat Noir. You wouldn't happen to know Catwoman?"

Chat laughed. "Oh, is there another cat-themed hero in Gotham?"

"Well," Frankie rubbed his neck. "Not a hero, exactly..."

"Ah, man... Well, we can't all be as charming as me, I guess."

"Nope. Guess not-" Suddenly, Frankie paled. He wasted no time in turning tail and booking it down the alley. For a second, Chat was stunned by the sheer audacity.

"Frankie, what are you doing!? We were getting along so well!" He prepared to chase after him-

-and froze when the cold steel of a gun pressed into his skull, followed by the hammer cocking back. A deep, raspy voice echoed from behind, muffled as if covered beneath a helmet.

"You're a ways away from your litter, aren't you kitty cat?" 

Chapter Text

It was an open secret to most of Gotham that the Red Hood was the king of Crime Alley and a large section of the Narrows. Batman and his assortment of vigilantes had stayed largely out of that area unless it was necessary, which was all but a glowing 'okay' from the Dark Knight himself, one that was only more cemented when Red Hood began to work with the other vigilantes. Still, Crime Alley was Red Hood's territory. Even the old-school gangs and mafias were hesitant to dispute that. So, whenever another super came along, be they hero or villain, it didn't take for them to get chased out by the former Robin.

"Catwoman didn't teach you about respecting territory, little kitten?" Jason asked, but the underlying menace in his tone hopefully made it clear it wasn't just a question. The kid was maybe, 6'2 or 6'3, with a decently muscled if a touch lanky build. The form-fitting but not skintight leather was bold, but it didn't border on kinky like Selina's suit did. It seemed more for the sake of simplicity. The glowing green accents were a nice touch, but Jason was certain they weren't there earlier. Some kind of reactive material, probably. 

Blond, scruffy hair with two black cat ears tucked between the locks, twitching. It was an impressive effect, and so was the weird belt-tail that swished on its own. The kid (who called himself Chat Noir) tensed even harder. With his two hands raised, he slowly, slowly, turned around to face Jason. His smile was friendly, but it had a glint of unnaturally sharp teeth, and his literal green catlike eyes were narrowed into slits. Jason had fed enough alley cats to know that usually meant they were about to pounce or run. Chat Noir stared down the barrel of the gun for all of a few moments before he turned his attention to the man holding it. 

"If I had a penny for every time someone thought I knew this Madame Catwoman tonight alone I would have 5 already," The joke slid off his tongue easily, posture relaxing ever so slightly. Jason didn't miss the slip of a French accent, putting it aside. "I'm afraid I haven't been in the city long, Mister...?"

He kept it matter of fact. "Name’s Red Hood. Here's a little tour. Everything from Crime Alley to the Narrows is my territory, no vigilantes without my say-so. But seeing as you were kind enough to clean out those assholes for me," pointing his hand back to the downed gang members. He'd have to investigate that later, couldn't have some upstarts crossing borders. "I'll let you go without a fuss. But come back here again..." The threat went unsaid, but Chat Noir seemed unbothered. Hell, he looked disappointed.

"Please don't tell me a name like Red Hood was wasted on a gangster." The blonde bemoaned. In a move that would've made Red Robin blush, he slammed his bo-staff into Jason's stomach just hard enough to make the bigger man stumble back, caught off guard by the sudden movement. Jason was left stunned as fully leapt up to the roof of a building, catching the ledge with one hand two look down at him. "Sorry monsieur Capot Rouge, I'll have to cut this short. But I'll see you later, don't you worry!" 

"Cheeky little shit," He glared. "Batcave, come in. I've got a live one, hot on the trail." Pressing the concealed button on his helmet activated the built-in camera. He spared a moment to double check if he was recording, then bringing out the grapple. "Enhanced, possibly a metahuman. I watched him jump to 4 stories with almost no build up."

["Batcave receiving your signal." Tim was the first to respond in her all-business tone.]

["You sure Catwoman doesn't have a son we don't know about?" Steph is next, which made sense. Bruce grounded her after she nearly broke her ankle, but he probably couldn't keep her out of the Cave. She was probably next to Tim by the computer.]

He let the chatter fade into the background, focused on keeping close to Chat Noir. God, this kid was zippy - barely a minute of chasing after him and Jason was already feeling his breath run short. The grapple found purchase on a taller building, allowing him to freefall so he could build up momentum for a swing. Meanwhile, Chat Noir's bo-staff fucking extended, which he then used to pole vault - and thanks to his presumed superhuman strength, he made nearly ten blocks with a single leap.

Red Hood paused for a minute, breath uneven. "Holy shit."

["A collapsible vaulting pole!?" Grayson yelled. "That's so unfair!"]

["Definitely enhanced, no way a normal acrobat could pull that off." Drake spoke, pausing. "Sorry, Nightwing."]

[Barbara hummed. "I couldn't get a clear view... Not even on any surveillance feeds. This one knows his stuff. I'll keep looking."]

["Good work, Oracle." Bruce complimented her easily. "Red Hood, are you still fit to follow him?"]

"Yeah, yeah..." He muttered, grapple already hoked onto the next anchor. "But, ah, some help would be appreciated."

[NEARBY is what Cass's morse code read. INTERCEPT?]

"It's a plan." Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. Cass was, out of the entire family, probably the best at pursuing targets. And probably the fastest, barring maybe Damien. It didn't take long for Oracle to relay said plan. Black Bat was rapidly approaching from the west side, which meant all Jason had to keep Chat Noir's attention away from that direction. Thankfully, he had the perfect tool to keep him distracted. With one hand occupied by the grapple, he used his other to take out a pistol and fire. it wasn't a perfect shot, moving at the grapple's speed and with the gun in his off hand, but it struck against the brick wall Chat was scaling. A full-bodied flinch took him over, and once he reached the top of the wall he looked back in surprise as Red Hood rolled onto the same rooftop.

"Well, aren't you purr-sistent?" The little shit had the gall to make a crappy pun while Jason was trying his damndest to hide the shallow breaths he was taking. He could hear Dick's laughter echo over the comms before Bruce put an end to it. 

Jason groaned loudly." A cat pun? Couldn't be any more on the nose?" He snarked.

"Eh, everyone's entitled to an opinion. But seriously, why are you following me? How are you following me?" 

"Call it professional curiosity. You jumped 4 stories in one go, not something you see every day." Red Hood shrugged. 

Chat Noir laughed. "A gangster with professionalism? Now I've seen everything. Listen dude, I'll come back and deal with you tomorrow. Don't get impatient." That made Red Hood blink. Did this kid think Jason was a mobster? Well, he was for like, 6 months, but pretty much everyone knew he was associated with the Batclan. Then again, this kid didn’t seem like a native.

 He felt the need to correct the assumption but before he got the chance, a grapple line flying in from the left connected to the wall behind Chat. The kid's eyes blew wide open, startled, as he looked back at the hook then to where it came from. Black Bat came zipping on the other end, flying out of the shadows to land a brutal flying haymaker that Chat Noir couldn't dodge, and Jason winced. He'd been on the receiving end of Cass's grapple hits in the past and his jaw still ached from the last time. 

The fist landed square on his jaw, followed by Black Bat slamming her feet into his chest and leaping down to Jason's level gracefully. It didn't keep the cat down for long - the second Cass's feet hit the ground, he was up. He held his bo-staff tight in his right hand; every muscle of his body tensed with that same inhuman power. He looked up at them with eyes narrowed. "...Okay."

There's a split second of silence before Chat leaps, aiming to kick Jason. He managed to roll out of the way more sloppily than he intended, unsheathing his pistols. Chat didn't wait for Red to take aim, extending his staff and moving towards him for a hit. Cass took the advantage, hitting Chat from behind. From there, a sort of rhythm fell over them. 

Chat Noir seemed to have decided that Red Hood was less of a threat than Black Bat, which, fair enough. Cass was far better martial artist than he was, and Jason was perfectly fine with that. he was the best marksman of the family, after all. He was fine with a secondary role to Cass, taking occasional pot shots to keep Chat off-kilter, not that it seemed to do much. With his enhanced strength and agility, he managed to stay in the fight without interruption.

Hood fired at his feet, and he yelped, glaring back at the masked vigilante while using his staff to redirect Cass's fist. He made a sound of frustration before turning his focus back to Black Bat. He slammed down and embedded one end his staff into the ground, then used it as a springboard to punch Cass. The hit sent her reeling, but he didn't give her any respite, grabbing her by the cape and throwing her against the wall with enough force that Jason was pretty sure he heard her ribs crack. With his main threat incapacitated, he grabbed the staff and collapsed it into its baton state.

"Ah, shit." Hood swore and took aim again, but Chat was faster. He jumped up to Hood's vantage point and kicked straight into Hood's chest, following up by swiping him off his feet with the staff and grabbing his guns. Jason groaned, attempting to get back up, but Chat kept him down with a foot. Pain spiked though his chest and he coughed, looking up at the Cat.

["Hood!" Babs broke through the comms. They weren't supposed to talk during combat, but Bruce didn't seem particularly upset.]

["Me and Robin are on route." Bruce spoke - the distant rumbling of the Batmobile through the comms meant they would be here in... five minutes, if they were still on their patrol route.]

His eyes seemed to burn neon now, face scrunched up and angry. He held a gun in each hand by the barrel, crushing one in his left to scrap. He then held the other hand up and very faintly whispered - Jason was barely able to hear him over the general nighttime noise - "Cataclysm."

The gun he was holding... broke. Or maybe it rusted away, like it passed through decades in the span of a few seconds. It dissolved into dust just a second after, carried off by the breeze. "Don't follow me, man. For your own good." And just like that, he was gone, catapulting himself off his staff.

"...Ah, shit." He coughed. "Been a while since I got my shit rocked like that."

[Dick sighed in relief. "Thank god. You good, RH?"]

"I can walk, at least." He stumbled to his feet. "God, that kid hits like a freight train. It's like getting tapped by Superman's pinkie."

[Steph muttered. "Not to even mention that thing he did with your gun. It looked like it just rusted away.”]

["I'm not eager to find out what that could have done to a person." Tim’s shudder was audible.]

"Me neither." He grunted. He realized he felt naked without his weapons. It wasn't every day he got separated from them and he decided that he did not like it. "You good, BB?"

Cass, who managed to pry herself out of the distinctly Cass shaped crater in the wall, threw a thumbs up.

["Everyone, head back to the Batcave. We have a lot to discuss." Bruce ended any chattering. "Red Hood, Black Bat, can we give you a lift?"]

[Cass's morse came alive. PLEASE.]

"Sure. I don't really feel like lugging it back to the Cave on my own."

When the Batmobile stops, Alfred is already there with a med kit and a cart of after patrol snacks, and Cass would have hugged him if she wasn't certain doing so would have shattered her ribs. As it turns out, getting tossed into a brick wall was not fun. And neither was getting stitches for the cut on her shoulder from said toss (but that was normal. Stitches always suck.) "Well Miss Cassandra, I can confidently say that between you and Master Jason, you had the worse go of it." Alfred commented, pulling on the string enough to make Cass wince.

He continued. "Aside from the stitches, you have two cracked ribs and quite possibly a case of minor internal bleeding. I'd recommend a week off from patrol, but I know you won't be taking my advice..." Cass smiled and released a trilling noise before hopping off the stretcher and pulling a shirt on. She made her way to the central landing, where most of the family was already gathered around Tim, who sat in the main chair. Everyone barring Cass and Duke were still in uniform - Duke because he was still asleep when they came home, so he was still half-drowsy and in his pyjamas. She noted Oracle's weird little green face symbol in the corner of the screen, meaning she was listening in from the Clocktower. The only other Batclan member not present was aunt Katherine but she was busy with League business, so for all intents-and-purposes, the whole family was here.

"Cass! Alfred gave you a clean bill of health?" Steph rolled by on a stool, giving her a half hug around the waist. She returned it with a happy noise. Alfred coughed from behind them, who made Steph flinch.

"Miss Stephanie, might I remind you that Miss Cassandra's ribs are bordering on broken?" Steph gave an awkward laugh and slowly rolled back.

"Sorry, Alf."

Bruce cleared his throat, drawing his focus. "Let's begin. Tim?"

"Right." Tim cracked his knuckles. "Jason, memory test. What does 'Chat Noir' look like?"

Jason, in response, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Five-foot-nine, brown hair, blue eyes. Wait, that's... not right." He paused, looking a bit startled. Cass paused and ran through the image of Chat in her head - 195 centimetres, black hair, brown eyes, Asian decent. A full body shudder ran through her when she thought back again, only to get a different answer; Latino, brown hair, et cetera. Ugh, that was... unsettling.

"Woah, trippy..." Steph said with wide eyes, and judging by the rest of the families' expressions (barring Tim; He had a great big smirk, Duke; He just looked lost, and Barbara; She just made huffing noise) everyone was just as startled.

"Can someone just fill me in?" Duke asked to which Tim happily agreed as he swivelled around.

"This is the best still I could get before Cass shows up," he said. "And I noticed something weird; every time I looked away, I forgot what he looked like."

The image was decent. Grainy, and brightened, but it showed Chat Noir off best. Blonde hair and big green eyes were the most notable, followed by his pale white skin. European decent. Jeez, that messed with her. looking at the photo, it felt so clear in hindsight, but she knew

"Yes, we all experienced the same, Drake." Damien grunted, but Cass could tell he was disturbed by how set his jaw was. He wasn't used to having his perception messed with, even though Bruce had trained them all in how to pick up on manipulation, the Robin had the least experience with putting that to the test. Well, all of them did. Bruce seemed the least effected, but he was also the best at hiding his micro expressions.

"Relax, I'm getting there." Tim soothed. "I went and made a shorthand list for all of the big identifiable traits while I looked at the photo, then double checked. As far as I could tell, these are his actual attributes." A short list showed up next to the photo, confirming what she already knew. "Memorize these. Even when you look away and try to remember what he looks like, Ignore your first reaction."

"How is that even... possible?" Dick questioned, eyes straining. Tim shrugged "Eh, no clue. my money's on some kind of memetic effect in his mask, but I don't think we'll know unless we ask him real nice." Code for beat him up.

"Okay, freaky memory manipulation to protect his identity... And that weird shit he did to my gun?" Jason ignored Bruce's quiet admonishment, who gestured to Damian.

"That, admittedly, was harder to figure out, but it goes hand in hand with who 'Chat Noir is," his fingers flew over the keyboard again, this time bringing up a selection of headlines, all from a selection of French news outlets; TVi, Le Monde, Paris 24, et cetera. They were all in French (duh), and Cass had enough trouble with English as it is, but she could recognize Chat Noir, at least. Some headlines had photos of him standing next to a girl wearing a deep red onesie covered in black dots - Cass winced. Who ever made their costumes clearly like Chat Noir more than his friend, going by design alone.

"Chat Noir, civvie name unknown, is a French superhero based out of Paris. He and his partner, La Coccinelle, appeared four years ago, but since then their team has grown to an estimated 15 members. He has the power to destroy literally any object with a touch of his hand."

"Anything?" Was Bruce's sceptical reply.

"Anything. There's video footage of him creating fissures in the ground - hell, turning the Eiffel Tower into a pile of rust."

"No way, that's bull! surely we would have known if the freaking Eiffel Tower got destroyed." Dick denied vehemently.

"That's where his partner comes in. Coccinelle can restore everything in the city to how it was before every fight. At least, I think so. It’s kind of hard to tell."

The cave goes silent, and all eyes turn to Bruce. He's contemplating, grinding his teeth as a distraction to the plans flying through his mind. After a few seconds, he speaks up. "Oracle, find out everything you can on these heroes. Everything." He stressed.

"Tim, I want to know why I didn't know about this, considering the League has feelers out for promising talent around the planet." Tim fires a sloppy salute and spins back around to go Watchtower hunting.

"Rest of you, tomorrow night, we find him. We need to know why he's here."

Chapter Text

"...What are you saying?" Ladybug's voice came out as a whisper so soft that he wouldn't have heard it without enhanced senses. Chat inhaled again, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see her.

"I don't have a choice, Bug. Civilian identity and all that." He repeated. Tension formed between them, and Chat opened his eyes again to look at the Parisian skyline. He could hear her breath over the cold breeze. She swallowed thickly and pushed off the roof, standing to her full height. 

"So that's it?" The venom in her tone made Chat flinch, and he looked to see her face screwed in genuine anger. "You're just going to roll over?"

"Ladybug, that's not -"

"You can't leave, Chaton! You, we - we have a responsibility to Paris!"

Chat's eyes narrowed. "You think I don't know that? I've been here since the start, same as you."

"Really? Because lately, it doesn't feel like that!" She spoke with a shaky tone, fists clenched, and her words made him stand, looking down at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ladybug paced, holding her counting down her fingers one by one as she listed off; "You don't show up to akumas, you're late when you do, you're needlessly reckless -"

"Stop," He raised his hands. "The other heroes show up before I even know about them, and I have a lot on my plate, bug. I can't always slip away to an akuma on the other side of the city."

"You're a senior Miraculous holder, Chat! You should be there to supervise them whenever I can't!"

She was getting red in the face now, shoulders tense, and Adrien wasn't fairing much better. He swallowed the hiss that threatened to spill from his throat. His stomach seemed to roll with emotion, months of bottled tension suddenly threatening to spill. His suit responded in kind to his emotional state, green light illuminating the rooftop in contrast to the subtle red glow of Ladybug's suit. 

"You chose them, Ladybug." He spat, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"They're valuable members of our team, they just need... supervision." She defended. 

"Your team, Ladybug. Not ours. You might trust them, but I don't." Chat didn't mean that, not really. He's fought with every other hero at least once now and although some of them were a bit... audacious, He knew they were at least competent. Some of them, like Rena Rouge and Carapace who had been heroes for years now, he trusted more than say, Caprikid.

But it was a different kind of trust. He trusted them to protect the Miraculous they carried - hesitantly - and to an extent, that they could be relied on in a fight. It wasn't near the same kind of trust he had with ladybug. When this all began, they didn't need to speak or even look at each other to fight together. Chat trusted her to come up with the plans, and Ladybug trusted him to do the heavy lifting. He was the only one between them with combat training and an actual weapon (No matter how creatively you used it, a yo-yo was still a yo-yo). But ever since the other Miraculous heroes became full-time, that instinctual reliance was slipping. Anyone who understood their dynamic could see it. Missed cues, taking unnecessary hits, et cetera. It was wearing on Chat, but Ladybug never seemed to notice, just a reprimand here and there.

They were slipping and she didn't seem to care. 

Ladybug huffed. "Are you still on that? I trust them, and that's all you need."

"No actually, it isn't," He Chat stressed. "Because frankly Ladybug? I don't trust you all that much lately."

That made her jerk back, eyes wide. "What-"

"Remember that time you left for New York without any warning?" He stepped forward. "And that I only found out when your substitute came along? You left Paris first, Ladybug. At least I'm telling you now."

Her voice cracked. "That's not fair-"  

"Neither is getting left in the dark about everything, Ladybug. I get you're the Guardian and all, but I'm still your partner. At least I thought I was."

A sob tore out from Ladybug, and he immediately stepped back. Guilt rushed in like a flood to squash out all the anger he was feeling a moment beforehand. He wanted to apologize, say that he didn't mean it. But he did. He meant every word. Maybe not so... antagonistically, but...

He sighed, hopping onto the railing. "I'm leaving in a week. I'll... see you at the next akuma." No goodbye. She didn't say anything, didn't even move from the spot where Chat cornered her. 

He jumped off the edge, easily making it across the street.

Adrien shook the memory free from his mind. Leaving things with Ladybug on such a sour note before he left was not how he planned that conversation to go. What few words they exchanged before he left were awkward and terse, and they didn't even fist bump once. It was kind of a childish metric to base the state of their relationship, but... they'd been doing it ever since they beat Stoneheart. At least his goodbyes with his other friends went better. Nino and Alya were heading to the UK to study anyway, but Marinette was a bit more distraught at being the only one of the four to study in Paris. He chuckled at the memory of her dramatically clinging to Alya before their train left.

He glanced down once again to the communicator in his staff to see nothing. The private channel between him and Ladybug had been dead silent for a month now. 

Wallowing in his own guilt and sadness wasn't doing him any favours, he decided, and with a stretch he lunged from his resting spot towards a neon sign to use it like a jumping platform. So far, his 'patrols' around the city, if you could even call them that seeing as he was mostly just wandering. He'd stopped a few muggings and robberies by this point, but he was kind of hoping for something more... exciting? It was only the second night of him actively looking for trouble. Statistically, He would find it sooner rather than later.

And guess what? He found it. The sudden wave of heat overpowering the smell of trash and pollution.

Fire.

It didn't take long for him to spot the rising column of smoke over the rooftops radiating out from what looked like an apartment building. Between the residents who were nursing burn wounds and, people carrying their kids out of nearby buildings out of the fear that the fire might spread. Chat dropped down to street level, putting his hand on an older man who didn't seem occupied with looking after someone. The man started back but upon seeing him, he relaxed slightly. "Hey, is there anyone still in there? What happened?"

"I-I don't know," The man, stuttered, shaking his head. It was clear he got shaken from his sleep abruptly. "I think I heard something when I was running out, but I'm-I'm not sure..."

"Okay, I'm going in. Stay here, call 911 if you have a phone." Chat gave the man a reassuring pat before leaping up the the third story.

Inside, the smell of smoke choked out everything else and the wood creaked as fire tore it apart. Adrien had dealt with his fair share of fires in the past, but this felt worse. The blaze was burning hotter than any normal flame. He stumbled up through the stairs, narrowly missing a collapsing support beam from above with a curse. The fire licked his heels and even through the suit he could feel the heat, like pressing skin against a hotplate. He hissed, eyes watering, but pushed on. He just needed someone to call out to him. He yelled as loud as he could, but he could barely here his own voice even with enhanced hearing. "Is there anyone still in here!? I'm here to help!"

He didn't get that, unfortunately - what he got was a fist to the cheek as a man burst through a weakened door. The burning wood pelted him, and he hissed - honestly, the hot wood hurt more than the punch, but it still caught him off guard. The man took advantage, following up with a swift knee to the gut. Chat groaned, stumbling slightly.

The man was wearing a full body silvery suit, the only deviation from the uniform surface being the harness around his torso and the bug like red goggles. Chat could just barely make out the human eyes underneath going wide in surprise at the sight of him. "...You're not burning..."

"I'm made of tougher stuff." Chat coughed and rose to his feet. "Let me put my thinking cat on... I'm guessing you're the one who set the fire? Unless you sleep in a heatproof suit every night, in which case, good thinking." He mused. "I might start doing that myself."

The man chuckled. "First guess was right... Isn't it beautiful?" He asked, raising his hands up and sighing contentedly. "A test of my new formula, a mix of various accelerants and my special equipment..."

"Colour me im-purr-essed." Chat snarked. "But I'm going to arrest you for arson now."

"No! It's not ready yet! Gotham hasn't felt the light of Firefly!" The man - Firefly, Adrien assumed - snapped, his calm now replaced by a more manic demeanour. "You can't stop me!"

"Gotham hopefully won't be feeling any of your light from Blackgate. Or Arkham, depending on where they put you." Chat Noir began to walk towards Firefly, but he shook his head in a panic, pulling something from his pocket.

He realized a second too late that it was a flashbang of some kind that set his already overwhelmed senses off. He stumbled back and hissed in pain, his ears ringing, but by the time it stopped feeling like an alarm bell going off in his skull, the arsonist had disappeared. 

"Are you for real?" He grunted in aggravation. Whatever, he could find the little pyromaniac later - there was still a chance of survivors, however unlikely. He began to move through each apartment as fast as possible, something that was becoming increasingly difficult as the building got increasingly unstable. On the first floor, behind apartment three, he found someone. Or their body, at least. The sight made his gut roll in disgust; their skin being charred black and bonded to the burning mattress. Died in their sleep, at least... It didn't look like it. Chat Noir coughed, which then immediately turned into a hacking cough. "Okay, I need to get out of here..."

Currently transformed as he was, the Cat miraculous gave him superhuman physiology but didn't make him immortal. It was the only reason he wasn't cooking alive, but the heat and smoke inhalation was getting to him. He'd been in the fire for at least ten minutes at this point, and the breathable air was thin. The light-headedness was just the first noticeable symptom. 

All that was to say that his ungraceful crash out of the window was completely justified. Breathable air hit like a shock to his lungs and his cough worsened to expel the smoke he'd been breathing nonstop. He struggled to his knees before two firemen came to his sides helping him up. "Jesus, you were in the fire? How come you look like you just fell in a ditch?" One of them asked.

"I'm made of tougher stuff," he joked weakly, before his gaze hardened. "Listen, I found a body. first floor, the window I came out from. It was... it was bad." The two firemen shared a look before one placed his hand on Chat's shoulder. The other walked off toward what looked like the head fireman. "Thanks kid. We're trying our best but this... hell, I ain't ever seen a blaze this big come naturally."

"It wasn't natural. Some guy called Firefly, you know him? He called this his first test for some kind of formula." The fireman shook his head, disgruntled. 

"No, never heard of him before. But it's Gotham, new freaks pop up every day." He froze, eyes popping wide. "Uh, not that you're a freak-"

"It's fine, I get it. Name's Chat Noir."

"Wilkes. Pleasure." The two shook hands. Wilkes was a well-built guy. Brown hair bordering on red with specks of grey, lots of laugh lines and big green eyes that told the story of an accomplished career. "I need to go help with the extraction, but I'd think you'd be better off talking with Batman."

Chat Noir jumped slightly, following Wilkes' finger as he pointed toward the Dark Knight himself, who was making a beeline for him. He was tailed closely by the much more colourful Robin, though with the scowl the younger vigilante wore, you'd imagine Batman was the friendly one.

 When Chat flipped his head back Wilkes was long gone, and now the protector of Gotham was standing just a few feet away. His lips were drawn in a tight line, white eyes gleaming a soft yellow to the ongoing fire. Robin, in contrast, made his apparent dislike of Adrien clear. His scowl seemed deeper now, arms crossed as he sized the cat hero up and down. Tense silence carried for almost a minute before Batman spoke, his voice rough and gravely.

"What happened?"

At those two words, Adrien retold the events of the last 20 minutes. Batman's expression didn't change for the entire time he spoke, but at the mention of Firefly his nose twitched imperceptibly. "- And that's about it."

Batman grunted, then nodded. Short, barely a full movement of his head. "...Good work."

Robin seemed to have other ideas. He uncrossed his arms and looked at Batman in disbelief, waving a vague gesture at Chat. "Surely you are joking. He allowed a new enemy to go free! how can we be sure he wasn't collaborating with this Firefly? If he even exists."

"Hey, I'd like to see you walk through a fire and not get roasted!" Chat realized he was being ridiculously defensive against a literal child. Did that stop him? No. “If I was working with him, why would I be here?”

Batman turned his gaze to Robin sharply before the younger assassin could speak, cutting any further argument off. "Meet us at the roof of the Raneleigh Ferry Terminal in thirty minutes."

That sounded less like a command and more like a statement. 'You will be there'. Adrien swallowed thickly - he really shouldn't be this intimidated, he'd gone up against much scarier akumas than a guy in a bat-themed costume - and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Batman and Robin left without another word. Batman did, at least, but Robin sent one last nasty glare his direction before he fired a grappling line after the other Vigilante. 

Chapter Text

"...bin!"

"Robin!"

"Robin, wake up!" 

Damian startled, immediately trying to rise only to groan. His head throbbed in pain, and his body felt sluggish. He slowly brought a hand up to his face and sighed in relief when he realized his mask was still in place, but the warm liquid that seeped through his gloves made him freeze. Blood, and with how quick it seemed to be flowing, a head wound. 

"Good, you're alive." Damian snapped to the strained voice near him - the French hero, Chat Noir. The glowing green lining of the suit provided the only lighting in the dark space they were trapped in. Chat Noir's posture was stiff, and Damian realized that he his hands were pressed against the roof. the rubble above them shifted in tandem as Chat Noir repositioned his hands. He was... he was holding up the rubble.

"What... happened?" He questioned sluggishly. His thoughts were cloudy, and he couldn't seem to recall anything after he and Batman left the scene. A common symptom of a concussion, likely explained by what he now noticed to be a gash in his hair from which the blood seemed to be flowing. He hissed as he depressed the wound. It seemed the shock was beginning to fade as the wound started to sting, but he kept his fingers in place - he needed to stop the bleeding.

"Firefly happened. How much do you remember?"

"Nothing after we left the scene of the apartment."

"Shit," The blond cursed. "Okay. Firefly set another building on fire - the Gotham Gazette. We changed course from the Ferry Terminal. Do you remember?"

-"Father, how can we trust him?" Damian made no attempts to hide the venom in his tone as he glared towards the figure leaping across the rooftops. Chat Noir managed to keep pace with the Batmobile even as it raced past the late-night traffic at full speed. From the driver's side, Batman remained stoic. 

"We can't." He said honestly. "But consider this an opportunity for him to prove himself, if he can help us capture Firefly."

His father did believe in second chances, after all. Chat Noir still managed to let the arsonist escape the first time. He was willing to concede that none of the Batclan would have been able to encounter him in the first place, but for such a supposedly experienced hero, it was suspicious to Damian that Firefly simply managed to disappear. Still, he would defer to the Batman for now.-

"Yes, I recall." His mind was slowly coming clearer.

"Good," The cat nodded, a smile forming. "We arrived early; the fire was still young. Batman told you to stay put-"

"But I disobeyed. I followed after you."

-The rebreather slotted over his face with a short hiss, forming a seal. The rebreather would allow him to move through the smoke more easily, but the heat, which was rapidly climbing, would soon become unbearable. The Robin suit was fire resistant but not fireproof - the underlayer could withstand exactly ninety seconds in direct contact with flames before it began to break down. Batman estimated the building would be consumed soon, but the rate at which the fire spread was unprecedented. In just a few short minutes flames were already licking at the walls, burning away the wallpaper.

"Robin?" Chat Noir yelped in surprise once he realized he was being tailed.-

"Yes... You and I took the lower levels. And then - the floor destabilized. The fire ate through the supports." Damian realized. "We're in the basement."

With a more focused mind, he took in their surroundings again. Chat wasn't the only thing keeping the rubble above them stable, metal beams in combination with massive piles of debris were likely supporting most of the weight. Still, however, without Chat Noir, Damian would likely be buried under several tons. He would likely be dead.

-"Robin, stay here." Batman commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Chat Noir, you take the lower floors. Leave the second you can confirm no one's still trapped inside."

"Understood." Damian answered easily. Chat Noir, however, paused to look back at the Dark Knight. "And what are you going to do?"

"There are people trapped on the roof. I'm going to evacuate them."-

"Yep. On the plus side, I don't think the fire can reach us." Was the weak reply.

"-Tt- This is no time for jokes." Damian held his bloodstained hand to his ear. "Robin to all points, can anyone hear me? I repeat, can anyone hear me?"

[...]

Static was all he received. He pried the earbud out and tossed it. "My communications are damaged."

"You don't have a spare?" 

"The earbud is not the comm," He explained, pointing to the satchel on his utility belt that housed the communications hardware. The earbud would remotely connect to the system, which in turn broadcasted over the encrypted channels the Batclan made use of as a redundancy. Static over an open line likely meant that the fall damaged the system in some way, which made it useless.

Something shifted above them - followed by a heavy thud as more debris piled on top of them. The metal beams whined in protest, and Chat Noir released a pained yell, squeezing his eyes shut, teeth gritting. His posture was more hunched now, knees visibly buckling. With a hard grunt he rose up, straightening his posture, but there was a notable tenseness now - his body tensed visibly even under the tight suit he wore. Jon and his father, Superman, they were both inhumanly strong to the point where nothing short of a meteorite would make them break a sweat. On the opposite side, he'd seen Todd, and his father use the heavy training equipment in the Cave many times, and they always wore the same face of exertion, made the same sound of effort. Realizing he had never truly seen the middle ground, the strength to lift several hundred times what a normal man can but not toss it away like it weighed nothing. It was, in a way, unsettling. 

"My baton," Chat Noir realized. He flipped his gaze toward Damian. "My baton can function as a communicator! Press the centre paw pad - there. Just have to put in a number."

Damian studied the green screen carefully. No one on the field had their personal devices with them and likewise those working support likely wouldn't answer their own. There was only one number that guarantee answer right now.

["You've reached Wayne manor." a cool British voice rolled through the baton.]

Chat Noir's ears perked, and Damian cursed under his breath. Of course, Pennyworth would answer the manor phone as a butler, why wouldn't he? Damian should have seen this coming. If Chat Noir had half a brain, he would be able to deduce the connection between the Wayne's and the Batclan. There was a chance that the blonde might miss the mark or assume something else was afoot, but Damian knew not to rely on luck. He would have to operate as if their identities were compromised.

Despite all the safeguards his father and Gordon maintained, their entire network of cover had a major Achilles heel; because their civilian identities were so intertwined that once you knew one secret identity, you knew -or could assume- them all. That's why Batman demanded the use of codenames both on the field and through comms in the case of unwanted listeners. 

"Agent A," Damian hissed. "This is Robin, my comms are disabled and I'm with Chat Noir. We are currently trapped in the basement of the Gotham Gazette building."

[Oh- apologies, Master Robin. Shall I connect this line to the main channel?" Pennyworth's voice was tight.]

"Direct line to Batman - he's closest." Pennyworth made a sound in affirmative as the line went silent. 

Chat Noir chuckled. "So… Wayne. I suppose that makes you Damian, then? Similar height, hair colour, kind of obvious in hindsight. So, Batman is-"

"We are about to die under several tons of rubble. Now is not the time." Damian tried to ignore the sudden hammering in his chest. His father would punish him for his mistake, both the reveal and for disobeying direct orders (which in hindsight was foolish), that much was certain. No one in the Batclan had ever compromised their identities because you simply didn't. Bruce Wayne had been lenient over the last year, but surely this would be the line. The thought almost upset him almost more than the imminent death hanging above.

"We're not going to die." Chat Noir scoffed like the very thought was ridiculous. As if fate decided to challenge him, the rubble of shifted again. This time, Chat Noir didn't stand fully. His legs tremored and Damian noticed a thin sheen of sweat trailing along his forehead. "Okay..." He huffed. "We might, possibly, maybe, die."

"You have powers, do you not?" Damian questioned. "Can you not just destroy the rubble?"

"I'm not an arch-cat-ect," Chat punned, nodding his head to the beams. "But seeing as we're in the basement, there's a pretty high chance the stuff above us is keeping the rest of the building from caving in. I need to be sure it won't come down on us the second I do it."

That was a fair point. If he was right and the building did collapse on top of them, well, Chat Noir was already struggling. He likely wouldn't be able to hold up a several thousand tons.

[The baton soon crackled to life with Batman's voice. "Robin, are you there?"]

"Yes, I hear you."

["Stay calm, I'm coming down to your level." The succinctness of his words belayed the stress in his voice. He was worried.]

"I can get us free!" Chat Noir yelled loud enough for his (admittedly impressive) baton to pick up. "You need to escape!"

["I'm not leaving you-"]

"Batman, I can save Robin." Chat Noir insisted.

["...Fine." Batman growled.]

"Okay," He exhaled. "Robin, you need to hold on to me."

Damian grimaced. It was demeaning, yes, but necessary. He flipped his hood up, wiping blood off his forehead for the last time before he climbed on to Chat Noir's back, closing his hands around the French hero's neck. "Do not get us killed, Cat."

Chat laughed. "I'll try my best, kid." Damian barely restrained himself from choking the hero for that remark, mostly due to his father's voice over the baton, confirming he was ready.

"Hold on tight... Cataclysm!"

"I really hate this town." James Gordon sighed as he climbed out of the police cruiser, eyes locked on what was left of the Gotham Gazette. The ten-story structure looked like it was going through the ringer, with most of the eastern side collapsing. The fire crews were doing their damndest to stop it, but even from the street Gordon could feel the heat. Thankfully, everyone working tonight had been safely evacuated with the worst injury seeming to be a broken leg and some burns.

He set his officers to work in getting statements and keeping the crowd under control while he came to a stop next to the fire chief, who was barking orders down his radio. "I don't give a damn about the budget! We need station 17's trucks here now!" 

"Long night, Ray?" Jim asked. Raymond Underhill was the chief of the Fire Department for about as long as Jim had been Commissioner, ever since most of the old guard from both departments had been cleared out for the corruption. people used to say that Gordon was the last honest Cop in Gotham before the reform - following that logic, Raymond was the only honest firefighter. Some of the shit the FD got on with even made the bad cops shudder. Working with arsonists to burn historic buildings, extorting people in poor neighbourhoods. Back then, people called the fire department a state-sanctioned mafia. It was impressive how quick Ray managed to turn the tide when he was put in charge. There was still a lot of bad blood between the PD and Gotham public but ask any civilian and they'd tell you to run to the nearest fire station if you had a problem.

"Two buildings in one night," Ray dragged a hand along his face and sighed. "With a specially formulated accelerant - God, I've never seen anything like it. You know we got the call about this place fifteen minutes ago?"

"Jesus..." Jim breathed. He was no expert, but 10 story buildings don't burn down in a quarter of an hour. "Arsonist must have a deep understanding of chemistry, then. And access to high-grade chemicals."

"ACE worker?" Ray asked to which Jim made a non-committal noise. "I just hope Batman can catch the son of a bitch."

"Batman was here?" 

"Yeah, went in before we could stop him. Him an a new guy, never seen him before."

"And Robin?"

"He was on that..." Ray pointed to a low building, distinctly lacking anything Robin-shaped. "...Shit. He wouldn’t...?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he would." Jim felt a lump form in his throat. "Kid's always out to prove himself." Shit. Shit. Please don't go like the second Robin. Please, let him not go home without the weight of another dead boy on his heart. Please-

A sound like cement bursting made Jim flinch. From the eastern side, it caused the outer wall to crack and fall apart as glowing hot brick and glass rained down. His beat cops pushed the crowd even further back, but it was pointless - their focus was elsewhere. In the heart of the collapsed structure was a figure in black, and Jim's first thought was 'thank god, Batman's alive' but on another glance, there was no cape. It was hard to make out precisely, but the fire wrapped around them like a blanket. They were carrying something on their back, a yellow and grey bundle. The figure jumped just in time to avoid being crushed by the upper floors as they destabilized.

The crowd (and Jim) watched in suspense as dust and flames spilled out, only to release a collective bated breath as the figure stumbled out.

God, his body was already aching - he was going to soak in a hot bath till sunrise the second he got back to the apartment. But for now, there was still worked to be done. with a groan, he pulled Robin (Freaking Damian Wayne!) off his back. 

"Two fires in one night," he muttered sarcastically. "You'd think there was an arsonist in town."

"Now is not the time for your jokes, Cat." The younger of the two bit out, struggling in Adrien's grip. Adrien tutted.

"Jeez. can't make jokes in a hole, can't make jokes when I save you. What's a cat like me to do?"

"Shut up?"

"Tell you what, let's get you checked out and I'll zip my mouth shut."

"No hospitals!" Robin immediately declared, redoubling his efforts to escape. He finally seemed to notice that Adrien was leading him to an ambulance, where an EMT was ready and waiting.

"Hey, relax. I doubt you're hurt enough to warrant a trip to the doctors." The EMT looked hesitant to agree but realized this was a sensitive situation. Still, Damian didn't calm down.

Adrien sighed, turning to the EMT with an apologetic look and pointed away. He got the message clearly, nodding and stepping away. Adrien sat the boy down, hands on his shoulders to keep him still.

"Look," He began. "You're smart, Robin - I can see it, anyone with eyes can see it. So I know you understand what I'm going to say." He stared the young hero vigilante down.

"What you did was dumb. You went against Batman's orders and put yourself in danger. I'm sure the man himself is going to give you a dressing down as both hero and hopefully father, so let me say that I understand."

Damian, who had up until now been ignoring him, froze. 

"You feel you have something to prove. Not just as Robin, but as the kid underneath. And you think that showing any kind of weakness, physical or mental or emotional, is going to invalidate what you'd done, so you bottle everything up. Except the cracks are starting to show, so you push harder, try harder, to live up to that impossible goal, but it just keeps getting harder to reach. Am I getting close? "

"...How could you possibly-"

"You aren't the only prodigal son, Robin." Hopefully Bruce Wayne was more attentive than Gabriel Agreste. "My advice? talk to somebody. Someone you trust. It'll help more than you think. Look, Batman's on his way. Just consider it. Please?"

At some point between when they escaped and now, Batman had reappeared. He was standing a ways away near a police car, speaking with some man with a moustache, glasses a and a cigarette in his lips (Adrien thought it was a bit distasteful to smoke at the scene of an arson). They exchanged a few words before looking over to Adrien. The smoking man gave the Bat what looked like a pat on the back and an encouragement that set the Dark Knight on his way to them, but before he could speak, Robin had already bowed his head.

"I am sorry, Batman." He said with that unnatural maturity. "I have failed you tonight. I... I accept whatever punishment you deem fitting."

"Your punishment is to let a paramedic conduct a field examination." He said, nodding to the EMT who had returned. He seemed a bit nervous to be in the presence of the Bat, but knelt down next to Damian, who's eyes were wide. "Batman-"

"I'm upset, Robin. But not now. Now, I'm glad that you're okay." he turned to the EMT. "You understand nothing you examine can go on the record."

"Ethically, it's abhorrent." The medic mumbled. "but yes. You have my word, Batman."

"Thank you," The cowl wearer nodded. He lastly turned to Adrien, who stood with arms crossed and tail swishing.

"You know." 

"Yep. I am sorry, by the way. I understand the importance of a secret identity." Adrien nodded. "I don't know if it will make you feel any better, but it wasn't my intention to find out or reveal it to the public."

"It... helps more than you think." Batman grunted. He pulled something from behind his belt and held it out to Adrien. "A communicator. I'll contact you if I find anything out about Firefly." 

"Woah, wait..." Adrien marvelled at the device - resembling a normal smartphone but armoured to hell and back, with the signature bat-motif and a sleek UI. "Why are you... giving this to me?"

"Consider it a sign of trust." 

Chapter Text

"So that thing is definitely bugged, right?"

"Of course it is. It's Bruce we're talking about."

Bruce heard his children's heckling but he paid them no mind, eyes fixed on the map of Gotham currently displayed on the table. New tech that Lucius installed just a few weeks ago - Wayne enterprises' proprietary new 3D hologram tech. The 'table' and the overhead light display held the specially designed projectors that created the drone-scanned replica of Gotham, everything from Burnside to Arkham and every alleyway in between. Bruce had been collecting the scans for the map since before Dick had joined the fold but back then, it was just renders on the screen. 

It also made tracking targets much easier. Like all Bat tech, the trackers integrated with Wayne enterprises systems perfectly, using cell and radio towers to feed live location data back to the Cave in real time, give or take a few milliseconds. He should get Lucius a raise soon as thanks - this really was impressive work. But for now, his eyes were fixed on the small red dot that represented the communicator, and by extension, Chat Noir. The foreigner had been moving about the Bowery for an hour or so after he and Damien had left, before he made the trek back to what Bruce assumed had to have been his base of operations, seeing as he had been moving in a straight line for about ten minutes.

"Master Bruce, you realize this is a massive breach of trust?" Alfred's voice made Bruce sigh, running a hand down his face. He needed to shave soon.

"He knows Damien is Robin. He knows who I am. If he's half as smart as I think he is, He'll figure out the rest, too." Bruce barely bit back the accusation. 'you let him find out'. He knew it was unfair to Alfred. If Damien hadn't called the manor, Bruce wouldn't even know the danger his son was in until Chat Noir had saved him or they both died beneath that building. He would let his identity be known a million times if it kept his family safe.

"And did he not promise to keep the secret? Did you not give him the communicator as a sign of trust?" 

"You know I can't take that risk, Alfred."

"No, I suppose you cannot." The butler sighed. "I still have some Robin uniforms to secure, as it were."

Alfred walked off, but Bruce's focus didn't break. The dot was slowing down.

"Huh," Tim mumbled. "Wasn't expecting Diamond District. Last two times we've seen him it was in the worse side of Gotham. I kind of figured he'd be living around there."

"He can keep pace with the Batmobile. He just knows where the real action is." Jason shrugged.

Chat Noir came to stop on the roof of what looked like a 10 story building to the east, just about separate from the massive skyscrapers that defined the district. The building bordered the line between the Financial District and Little Italy so close it practically belonged to both neighbourhoods, In Bruce's opinion. He waved his hand and the system responded, bringing up pertinent details about the building itself - A Highrise apartment complex built in the 70's, currently owned by Gothcorp Holdings with some ties to the Bertinelli family. Nowadays, it was usually reserved for housing out-of-state VIP's that stuck around for more than a few weeks at a time.

“Orchid Apartments? That’s real swanky digs.” Jason commented. “And he’s been sticking to the penthouse floor.”

“Do you really think Chat could afford to live in that place?” Asked Stephanie. “Penthouses don’t come cheap.”

“He doesn’t have to be the one paying for it,” Jason shrugged. “Maybe he’s got a rich buddy. Or he’s a squatter with expensive taste.”

Bruce new all about cats with pricy habits. “Barbara, can you find out who’s living here?”

The sound of knuckles cracking flowed through the speaker system, followed by Barbara’s voice. “Gimme a second… Hm, interesting.”

“What? What do you mean ‘interesting’? Is that like, good interesting or bad interesting?”

“Eh, depends. according to Gotham Merchant’s Bank, Orchid sold the penthouse to Gabriel Fashion House three weeks ago.”

“Wha- Gabriel?!” Steph nearly jumped out of her seat, only to be caught by Cass who pushed her back down.

"You know?" Cass asked, and Steph rolled her eyes. "Where do you think the shoes I got you come from?"

Cass looked down to her feet and blinked. Sure enough, the same butterfly logo was stamped on the side of the black sneakers Steph gave her as a birthday gift. They were about the only shoes Cass was comfortable in aside form her uniform boots , Bruce remembered - he'd seen her wear them practically every day since.

"Would have been nice to know," Steph grumbled. "Getting them sent over from Europe was nightmare. Why would they buy a penthouse and not like, a factory or store or something?"

“Gabriel Fashion is going to make new company merch for Wayne Enterprises.” Tim added helpfully. "Bruce signed the deal a few weeks ago."

Right. The Martha Wayne foundation had been complaining about the poor state of a lot of the merch the previous partners provided. Bruce, of course, ended up discovering how corrupt said partner actually was and terminated the deal a whole four years ahead of time.

It ended up being a bit rash in hindsight. Now Neither WE or the Foundation had any supply of company wear. He scoured most of the US but didn't find any company that could match his requirements, so he ended up looking across the sea to Europe and Asia, and after a few terse video calls with the CEO Gabriel Agreste (terse didn't begin to describe it, but he paid his employees well, credited their ideas, and all their books looked clean) They signed the contract, with the explicit caveat that Gabriel's son would model the male line.

If Bruce remembered correctly the first photoshoot was about a week away, as they were still waiting on the first shipment to arrive.

“They’ve been keeping it under wraps until the launch. I still don’t see the connection though- What’s Chat Noir’s got to do with it?”

“Aside from also being French?” Oracle chimed in. “Not a clue.”

“All this tells us is who owns the suite, not who lives in it.” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “Does the Orchid have some kind of ID system? Check who they were issued to.”

Barbara hummed. “Good idea. Looks like they issued two cards – one to former French spec-ops turned bodyguard Placide I.T."

The screen lit up with several photos, showing the giant of a man either dressed in a suit, or in full tactical gear. He looked almost as large as Bane did without a Venom, if not slightly taller. middle-aged, with black hair and lighter sideburns.

"Looks like he was formerly an employee of Colt Fathom, then got traded to Gabriel for 'undisclosed services.'" Barbara huffed. "He's been working as private detail ever since."

"Wasn't Colt Fathom a huge deal here in the States?"

"It was around the same time that I took in Dick," Bruce explained. "He was all around healthy until he suddenly fell ill and passed away. Never found out quite what the cause was, they kept it under wraps. The other card?"

"Issued to Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste and well-respected model. Really respected, by younger girls." He heard Barbara's shudder. "Ugh. Some of this is just creepy."

The bodyguard's information was replaced by his charge's - Blonde, green eyes, similar build. He couldn't be sure, not without definitive proof, but the odds that Agreste and Chat Noir were one in the same were beginning to look overwhelming.

"Now that you're paranoia's satisfied, you're going to let this go, right?" Bruce didn't answer Stephanie's probing question. "...Who am I kidding."

"He's going to Gotham U this semester," Tim said idly. "I could keep tabs on him there, maybe fiddle with our schedules to line us up."

"Thank you, Tim. I'm going to set up a meeting as Bruce, try to goad him into revealing anything."

"I'll help." Cass offered. Bruce considered for a minute - Between the two of them, Cass was far better at reading people's body language. Loathe as he was to admit it, Bruce had a tendency to push too far in interrogations, which would be working against him in what would hopefully be a slightly invasive but all around normal meeting. Plus, having someone of Chat Noir's age present would hopefully keep him calm.

"This family is crazy." Jason sighed.

Chapter Text

Adrien was six years old when he became a model.

It was less modelling and more sitting in his mom's lap while somebody took photos, but it was fun. After every shoot, his mom would spend time with him for hours - whether they watched TV, drew, played with action figures, or played tag. Adrien could still vividly remember the smell of the flowers in his mom's garden, where she'd read stories to him while she tended to her plants. 

Then she started getting sick.

Then the photoshoots stopped being just a thing he did with his mom. It became a chore, then a job, and then it began to consume every second of his life. Every second not spent studying, learning, perfecting, was a second wasted, his father said. With Plagg, it became easier to push back in all the little ways, learning what buttons to press to get what he wanted. Say what you will about Gabriel Agreste, he was a good employer - so when Adrien began made demands for a full salary, to be treated as an employee, he agreed.

And maybe that's what bit present-day Adrien in the ass, because now his contract, and his tuition, lied in the hands of the goddamn Batman, aka Bruce freaking Wayne.

"I'm so not ready for this," Adrien groaned, dragging his hands down his face. 

Wayne Tower really had some impressive public bathrooms. Nice, clean and tasteful. Each stall was sealed from floor to ceiling, so there was no chance of any Peeping Toms. Not that Plagg cared, flying out of Adrien's laptop bag. The Kwami put his little hands akimbo and flapped them.

"What are you, chicken?" Plagg clucked mockingly, before pausing and licking his lips. "Actually, some chicken sounds pretty good right now. Topped with some barbecue sauce and blue cheese dip... mhmmm..." 

Adrien grumbled, pushing Plagg away. "Plagg. Kind of in the middle of a crisis here."

 "And this is news, why...?" The glare he received made the cat roll his eyes. "Fine, fine... lay it on old uncle Plagg." 

"I know that Bruce Wayne is Batman, but he doesn't know I'm Chat Noir. Except, the very next day after I find out, Bruce Wayne arranges a meeting with me as Adrien Agreste. That doesn't seem... suspicious?"

"Oh, very." Plagg agreed easily, shrugging. "I've had enough holders to know that stuff like this is never a coincidence."

"So, what do I do?" Adrien slumped. "What if he's figured out my identity? Ladybug would probably find a way to choke me out from halfway across the world."

"Again, my masking game is impeccable. Maybe that's not a bad thing." The blond shot up with a half bewildered, have terrified expression. "The identity thing, not the choking thing, you numbskull."

"Elaborate."

Plagg, in a mirror of his holder, slumped and released a long-suffering sigh. "...Look, if you ever tell the other Kwami I said this, I will neuter you. But I've been worried about you. Ever since Ladybug promoted the others full-time, you've been acting strange."

"If this is about the missed fights-"

"-No, not that. I mean you've been closing off, Adrien. You were just... there. The only time you smiled - genuinely - was at school, with your friends. But the second you came home your face just... drops." Plagg spoke.

It was obvious Plagg wasn't used to talking like this. And frankly, neither was Adrien. This really didn't feel like the conversation you should have in a public toilet stall. "Plagg, I..." Was it really that bad? Adrien tried to think back to those last few months in Paris and came to the startling realization that Plagg was right. He had been going through the motions for the entire time, waiting for... something. Maybe a message from Hawkmoth, or a call from Ladybug (why did that feel worse?). 

Maybe a message from Natalie, telling him he was going to Gotham.

"Look, I'm no good at this whole pep talk thing, you know that." Plagg continued. "I'm just saying, we're a seven-hour flight from Paris, and here's a hero - a whole bunch of them - who know what it's like to lead the double life. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from them. "

"I don't..." Adrien hesitated. The reason the old Guardian and by extension, Ladybug enforced the No-identities rule so rigidly wasn't for any historical precedence - but the risk of Hawkmoth finding them out by pure chance was too big to ignore. Adrien had grown to accept that as a necessity, especially as he got older. 

"Okay," He relaxed. "If he figures it out, I'll come clean."

Adrien Agreste was a walking contradiction in Cass' mind. 

It was honestly kind of impressive, the sheer tonal difference between the famous model and the cat-themed superhero. Adrien walked like he was trying to be the least noticeable person in the room at any given moment until someone addressed him directly.  Chat Noir walked like he was the reason the sun rose, all ego and attention seeking, from what she remembered. He moved too fluidly for his build, like he decided when his bones mattered, and vice versa his strength was on the same level as Killer Croc.  In a way, it was like they were both masks. There were moments where one bled into another, like when Adrien's smirk was a fraction too smug. When Chat Noir began to fight her and Jason, where his eyes were too narrowed. It was such a convincing façade, she was certain that Adrien didn't even realize it.

he was a lot like her dad in that sense, but the difference was that he had moments where he wasn't Brucie Wayne or batman - just Bruce, parts from both sides of the mask put together. Alfred told her once that that Bruce only started showing himself when Dick came into the fold.

But Adrien didn't have that, did he? A place where he could let both masks slip and just be himself. 

"So, Adrien, I see you're going to Gotham University soon! Any idea what you'll be majoring?" Bruce asked conversationally, shaking the blonde's hand before sitting

"Probably chemistry, but father urged me to study Business."

"Not really a fan?"

Adrien shrugged. "He wants me to take over the company. I'm not sure I'd make a good fit; I didn't inherit the knack for design."

"I understand. My mother was a hobby painter, but you couldn't ask me to draw a straight line." Bruce chuckled. An easy lie - he's an expert sketch artist. "This is my daughter, Cassandra. I hope you won't mind if she sits in?"

"Not at all. It's a pleasure." Adrien reached his hand out to her, which she took with a nod and hum.

"Cass is non-verbal, so I'll interpret for us." Bruce added. 

"Oh, that's not a problem." Adrien smiled genuinely, then looked at her again. This time, he raised his hands and signed nice to meet you. Cass returned the gesture with an equal smile.

"You know ASL?" Bruce questioned.

"I'm better at LSF," Adrien admitted, "But I like learning new languages. I started picking up a few phrases before I came to Gotham."

"Remind me to introduce you to my son Richard. He's a polyglot too." As was... most of the family, barring Cass. Even Steph spoke five of them. Cass was quite comfortable with her grasp of ASL, Morse and English, thank you very much.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what's this meeting about?" Adrien asked carefully. "Your email was vague and as far as I'm aware, I'm not officially employed until next week."

"You're taking a very important role, Mister Agreste. WE isn't known for having fashion shoots, so you'll essentially become a brand ambassador." Bruce leaned forward. "I just want to personally make sure you're ready for the job."

"I've been the face of my father's company for six years now, sir." 

"Of course, but the Gabriel brand isn't on the same level as Wayne Enterprises."

That was the wrong thing to say, and Cass communicated that observation by kicking Bruce's leg as hard as she could without making noise. His eyes twitched toward her for all of a second before turning back to Adrien, who's brow was furrowed as is he was trying to figure out the politest way to say 'screw you' without getting fired.

"Well... I'm happy to answer any questions you have." He said instead.

"Great! I hope you don't mind if I put on some music? It helps me stay on track."

"Not at all."

Bruce stood up, approaching to the antique record player in the corner of the room. Cass remembered it belonging to Grandpa Thomas, but she's never heard it actually play. It was a very beautiful thing, but Bruce always kept it here at the tower, and he never listens to music - the collection of vinyl next to it went untouched since before her time. Except her dad didn't take one from the set- he grabbed a new record sitting on a nearby table. The second the needle made contact, and the slow, classical jazz began to roll, Adrien collapsed out of his chair with a cry.

Cass jumped in surprise, looking between her dad and the blonde writhing in pain.

"An old precaution against metahumans with enhanced senses," Bruce explained calmly, Batman beginning to leak out from under his mask. "The player produces sound far beyond the human range of hearing."

Cass sent her dad a harsh glare as she moved to Adrien's side, helping him rise on unsteady feat. She hoped it would be enough to demonstrate to Bruce that she was not on board with this.

"I feel like there was a better way to do that. Like, you know, asking?" The blonde spat, pulling away from Cass. he was still unsteady on his feet, breathing shallow and uneven. Cass hesitated, but relented, stepping back. He was already recovering faster than most did after a sonic attack.

"It's effective." Bruce said unapologetically. "Now I know for certain, Chat Noir."

Adrien tensed, before sighing. "You figured it out."

"Two blonde, green-eyed white men of similar build and height, both French nationals, appear in Gotham within a few days of each other?" Bruce retorted like it was the most obvious thing ever, and that he totally didn't cheat by way of a listening device. He returned to his chair, but all the forced kindness and cheer was gone, replaced by cold focus. It was Batman in a suit and tie.

"You can't just figure it out," Adrien shot back, bewildered. "There are protections in place that keep my identity more secure."

Batman ignored him, steamrolling forward. "Let me make something clear; Gotham is my city. So, you're going to tell me exactly why Chat Noir is here, and don't bother lying, both Cassandra and I will know."

Adrien looked back at her as if revaluating - he was trying to figure out who she was. 'Good luck' was her first thought - of all the vigilantes in Gotham, Black Bat was the least known about to anyone who wasn't a major criminal. Even then, they barely had time to see her batsymbol before they were knocked out and tied up. Adrien had probably gotten the longest continuous view of her alter ego in out of most in the last few months. The only digital evidence that she existed were they few scattered photo of her online, usually taken by traffic cams. When he realized he wasn't going to place her, his brow furrowed but turned back to Bruce.

"Chat Noir is here for the same reason Adrien Agreste is. I had to come here to keep my identity!"

"And in coming here, you left your partner alone against a dangerous superterrorist-"

"Ladybug has the means to contact and bring me to Paris if the situation requires it, and she's hardly alone-"

"That doesn't change the fact-"

The 'interrogation' quickly dissolved into a shouting match as Bruce and Adrien spoke over each other, each becoming more aggressively red in the face. It was honestly impressive how quick Bruce had gone into a rather petty level of arguing, if it weren't for the fact that it made Cass want to tear her hair out. Ever since this started - which hadn't been more than 5 minutes - nothing had been going right. Fed up, Cass slammed her hand down on the desk hard enough to splinter the wood and send a pen flying. "ENOUGH! Sit, both!" 

Both froze, staring at her. Bruce because he knew how rarely Cass yelled, which was almost exclusively when she was pissed. Adrien, probably because he hasn't heard her say anything since they met -again, 5 minutes ago - and she was very attention-grabbing.  Suitably cowed, they both sat back down, Adrien on the chair that he hadn't knocked over. "Good. Now, talk. Calmly." She stressed, before sitting down herself.

A moment of awkward silence passed before Bruce coughed, speaking with far more befitting poise. "You... said your partner isn't alone."

"Because she isn't. Our 'Dynamic Duo'," He said with air quotes, "Is more like a dynamic eighteen."

She and Bruce shared a subtle glance. All the info Tim had gathered didn't make any mention of other heroes. Come to think of it, Reporting on such public figures was barebones to say the least - there was almost no news of the 'Miraculous' heroes beyond fights.

"None of our intel said anything about other heroes." Bruce voiced their thoughts. Adrien seemed similarly confused, before he seemed to come to a realization. 

"Your 'intel' might be way out of date." He began. "A few weeks after the first Akuma, the government hired Lexcorp to build some kind of... Information firewall. Any publicly available information that has anything to do with the akumas or such gets blocked."

"That's..." Bruce tried to find the right words for how mind-bogglingly stupid that sounded. First, who trusted Lexcorp to design something like that? Adrien seemed to detect their shared expression and added. "It doesn't stop anything private! calls, messages, links - stuff like that. Just news and stuff."

"If I had a week, I couldn't explain all the reasons that doesn't make it better."

"Look, nobody likes it, but it's necessary. Until we get rid of Hawkmoth, we can't risk vulnerable people coming to Paris." Adrien defended.

"The League can help you find and stop him." Bruce tried, but Adrien immediately shook his head. 

"No way. Look, the Akumas we've fought are all civilians. I don't really want to know what an akumatized Superman looks like - do you?"

Silence was the answer. Superman had been mind controlled plenty of times according to Dick. The ones she remembers best are of Ultra-Humanite turning the Man of Steel against the Justice League on several occasions, and it got so bad that Batman apparently forced the whole League to go through the same mental resistance training he had. It turned out for the better, but no amount of training can protect you against a highly powerful psychic or brainwashing magic. It was like a layer of Kevlar against a sniper rifle.  But all those times had superman working at his (already ridiculous) peak, and Hawkmoth seemed to give powers to people via akumatization. She wondered what an even stronger Superman would be like. Could Hawkmoth even make the mightiest hero on earth more powerful?

Bruce hadn't spoken again, so Cass took the opportunity. She tapped the table to get Adrien's attention and quickly signed Hawkmoth, how?

"You're asking how his...powers work?" Adrien asked, to which she nodded. "It's sort of like mind control, but Hawkmoth doesn't make you do anything you don't want to do, not really. He goes after people feeling an intense negative emotion. Sadness, grief, but most frequently anger. He... amplifies that feeling a hundredfold, makes it feel like the only thing that matters. Then he makes you a deal; he gives you powers to do what you want, like getting revenge or fulfilling some desire, and in exchange, you bring him-"

Adrien paused, realizing he was likely stepping into territory he wasn't supposed to, but Bruce was nosy (and loathe to admit it, but so was she). He leaned forward, grabbing onto the crumb like a shark. "Bring him what? What does Hawkmoth want?"

The French hero didn't respond, opening and closing his mouth. He looked to Cass briefly, eyes narrowing slightly, then back to Bruce.

"Why do you care?"

That caught both of them off guard. "What?"

"I mean, you've got enough on your plate in Gotham. Firefly, not to mention however many other supervillains are running around right now. And I imagine Justice League keeps you busy as well. You have no real stake either - so why are you so insistent on helping?"

Cass looked to her dad, his face pulled as he tried to decide on the answer to the question. 

"Because innocent people are in danger."

Over the years, Plagg and Adrien had developed a sort of code - well, more accurately, whenever Plagg needed to add his two cents, he would kick his little feet straight through Adrien's ribs. Literally. Having something phase through your body was more attention grabbing than a tiny kick. So, whenever Adrien came close to digging himself a proverbial grave, Plagg 'gently reminded him not to spill too much.

It helped, but sometimes Adrien's moth worked faster than his brain, like right now.

He hoped Mr. Wayne's answer satisfied the tiny god in his shirt pocket; he looked up at him with beady green eyes. Adrien couldn't see much else of his face, but he gave two blinks before retreating, phasing through Adrien again. He supressed the shiver as much as possible, then looked up at the two vigilantes (One known, one assumed).

"I cannot stress enough how what I'm about to say is a secret." He began. He presented his right hand, the soft yellow light glinting on the silver sheen of his miraculous in its disguised form. "This is the Black Cat Miraculous. It's one of a set of very, very old magical relics. This one gives the user the power of Destruction, Ladybug's the power of Creation. Legend has it when combined, the two Miraculous can grant a wish."

"I assume that's dangerous?" Wayne's eyebrow raised. At the same time, Cassandra made the sign for bad?

"Depends. The thing about this wish is it comes with a caveat - it has to maintain the Balance." He emphasized the last word, hoping to convey that he wasn't talking about some cookie-cutter stuff, the Balance was a scary concept in and of itself from what Plagg told him, being the literal only force in existence that he and Tikki had to obey. "Say you want to bring someone to life - someone else has to die in their place."

Bruce stiffened and Cass pulled a face - Adrien didn't blame them. He never saw the wish as worth it, not for the price it demanded.

"Why," said Cass, with an edge of disdain in her voice. She continued in Sign. Why does he want it?

"He's willing to become France's public enemy number one. Whatever it is, it isn't worth it."