Chapter Text
That night, Chat Noir hunted Ladybug. He crouched on a roof, watching a tracker dot blink red on his phone screen. His little parting gift had gone unnoticed, just as planned.
With all the buzz about her being such an exceptionally challenging case, he'd half hoped she'd give him more of a challenge than this. But then again, no one ever suspected Adrien. Being good at his job really took the sport out of it.
Ah, well. Chat flicked through his phone with a yawn. It was getting late. She certainly was a busy little bug. Already she'd led him all over Paris.
Did this girl never rest? Against his better judgment, he found himself idly admiring her work ethic. It was a shame she had to be captured. In another life, she'd be invaluable as a partner.
Chat sighed and shook his head, pinching the space between his eyes. He didn't need distractions. He refocused on the screen. The tracker had changed. It was blinking very near his position. Practically right above him. Chat Noir whipped his head around and fumbled for his weapon. How could she have moved so fast? His eyes darted back and forth as he searched the dark for her. Then he spotted something. A shadow undulated along the chimney siding, moving closer and closer until-
“Meow.”
Chat blinked, confused. Huh? Before he could comprehend more, the owner of the shadow appeared. Instead of bright blue eyes, he was met with the feline stare of a small tabby cat. The cat stretched languidly. Around its neck hung the tracker, and a note.
Cursing fervently in every language he knew, Chat grabbed the cat and untied the device. He nearly ripped the note opening it.
On it, written in delicate cursive, read “Better luck next time. Catch me if you can. -Xoxo, Ladybug”
“Damnit!”He crushed the letter in his fist.
“Damnit, damnit!”
-
Ladybug wove through the shadowy underbelly of Paris with lithe ease, stalking her latest victim. Victor Karaskov. The night club owner operated in Pigalle, known as Pig Alley to those who were familiar with its seedier charms. She had been trying to get close to him for months. He was a spider at the heart of a twisted web that extended all over the city, and it was high time that she squashed him.
She landed on the famous windmill sign that glowed red above the Moulin Rouge. If her intel was correct, Victor frequented the cabaret with friends and clients and would be attending tonight. In his own club, which lay nearby on the strip, he was protected by an army of guards. Here, he was but one man. Isolating him now would be the best chance she had to cross his name off her hit list.
Unfortunately for Victor, rumors swirled in the underground network that he lined his vile pockets through trafficking. If the estimates were accurate, half of the guests inside his club didn’t make it out alive. Ladybug’s fingers cut into her palms. From what she’d heard, he did not seem to discriminate in who he trafficked, which made him all the more despicable.
From her spot high above, Ladybug could observe everything. It was early. The sun was still glowing weakly along the skyline, but night was soon approaching. The mood in the crowd below was raucous and lively, with tourists milling around below. Lights shone enticingly over the lewd shops. Attractive men and women mingled arm in arm, making their way inside clubs, flashing smiles at the bouncers. The air was scented heavily with cigarette smoke, delicious food, and cologne. Music played from inside the cabaret.
Ladybug checked her weapons belt out of habit. The plan was simple. Take him out, by any means necessary. The method of which had been left up to her, which she appreciated. It allowed her to express her creative side. She ran her hands down her sides, and adjusted her mask. If she was lucky, she could slip in after him and carve his heart out in the smoky back of the theater. Her lips curved into a crooked smile. Oddly, for once, she wouldn’t stand out in her skin-tight costume and disguise amid the scantily clad performers.
Ladybug mentally mapped out every scenario in order to lock down the one that would get her out unscathed. She couldn’t die now, not before she procured pretty Agreste boy’s pretty money for the recovery of his missing mother. His solemn green eyes flicked into her mindseye. They were so familiar. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they knew each other. It irked her. The last thing an assassin needed were strings tying her to others. She waved away the images with a gloved hand. She needed to focus. One thing at a time. Don’t get distracted. Eliminate Victor first. Then you can do the Agreste job. The sooner he was out of her way, the better.
Icy breezes tickled the back of her neck. There he was. Victor. She could see him walking steadily amidst a crowd of stumbling companions, their eyes already glazed with opium and alcohol. Nearby, a young girl, barely older than Ladybug herself, was crossing the street with her friends. She tripped on a cobblestone and went down. Her pale thigh showed through the run in her fishnets. Blood trickled down onto the ground. Her eyes, full of shocked tears, seemed to meet Ladybug’s. The assassin ducked behind the windmill, heart racing. This was not the time for her cover to be blown.
Victor stood not far off. He had witnessed the fall as well. He studied the girl with a cold, calculated hunger, his gaze flicking over her curves. Ladybug watched as he locked eyes with the bouncer of his club and casually ran his thumb across his lips and bottom teeth as though he was tasting her from afar. With a subtle nod, the bouncer ran to help her to her feet. His large hand engulfed her upper arm as he hauled her toward the club.
“Come inside. We have bandages.”
As easily and quickly as that, she was ushered behind closed doors. Victor smiled at his inebriated friends and strode into the Moulin Rouge as if he hadn’t just sentenced someone to a life of misery.
Ladybug wavered. If she went after Victor now, the girl could be stuffed into a car trunk and taken halfway to London by the time she got back. But if she lost sight of him now, how many more victims would meet the same fate? The girl's tearful gaze tugged annoyingly at Ladybug’s conscience. Was she responsible for what came next? It wouldn't take long for the girl's entire life to be ruined. Ladybug could save her…
But no. She was an assassin. Time wasn't a luxury for sale. Still… she had to do something.
Grimly, Ladybug slid down the roof and texted 114. It wasn't much, it didn't guarantee the girl would be rescued in time, but it was enough to absolve her from crippling guilt. Now her own window of opportunity was truly limited. It wouldn't be long before cops swarmed the area, ruining her chances. Swearing under her breath, she slipped into the dark cabaret with blades pressed between her breasts and deadly red lipstick on her plump lips. It was thirteen seconds to midnight for Victor. Unfortunately, it'd not be the slow, agonizing end he deserved. Not with the cops on the way. But still, she could drown him in his own blood.
The music in the cabaret beat seductively through her, deafening everything. People near the bar mingled with drinks in their hands, moving in rhythm to the beat. Those closer to the stage were seated to enjoy the show. It was here that her target sat, lounging with a glass in his hand. His gaze was fixed on an undulating performer.
Ladybug deftly grabbed a drink from another table and took a sip. Then she stumbled forward, purposefully splashing bourbon over Victor.
“Sorry, Monsieur!” she gasped and pawed at him with a napkin, searching him for weapons. There were none. She couldn't help but smile behind her mask while her head was down. Victor’s over confidence would be his end.
“Stupid bitch,” he swore in a thick accent, brushing her hands aside as he shot to his feet. Then he paused, seeing her beauty. His predatory gaze darted over her slim, curvaceous frame. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he sized up her price on the black market. “Ah… apologies.” He murmured. “It's the alcohol talking. Forgive me.”
Ladybug gagged internally, but her red lips curved into a coy smile.
“Buy me another drink and I’ll consider it.”
He looked irritated but nodded. “Anything for the lady.” With his hand lingering possessively on the small of her back, they wove through the cabaret. Neither of them would be returning to finish watching the act.
Once they were far enough away, she pulled him playfully towards the bathrooms. “I need to go. I guess I had too much,” she giggled, maneuvering him inside and into the single stall with her.
“What are you doing?” He said, as she pressed herself into his chest.
“Having fun,” Ladybug flung her arms around his neck and pulled him in close. “Hold still now; this might sting.” With swift precision, she flicked a switchblade into his throat.
Blood spurted across her face as he sank, wide eyed and gurgling to his knees. His fingers clutched desperately at his throat as he choked.
“Say hello to your victims, for me.” She said, stepping over his writhing form just as sirens screamed outside. Perfect timing Ladybug's hands rested on her hips. Her next move was unsure. Did she have enough time to help the girl, or should she call it an early night and let the cops handle this one? Surely they could manage now that she'd done the grunt work.
Suddenly, Victor lunged forward. “Bitch!” he screamed, a high pitched, inhuman sound. He grabbed her wrist with surprising strength and, before Ladybug could react, he stabbed her with a thin needle.
Ladybug’s brain blared alarms. How had he gotten a needle past her? She'd taken precautions. She'd done a pat check! Stupid. She was so stupid. She stared, horrified at Victor.
“What was that?” She shook him frantically. “What did you give me?”
He laughed viciously and spat blood and spittle into her face before he slumped down, eyes still open. Dead.
Stunned, Ladybug ripped herself free from him and stumbled for the door. This was bad. Very bad. She felt her way down the hallway and past throngs of drunken customers. All the lights blurred together. The music was oddly muffled and garbled like she was underwater. What had he given her? It was fast. Everything felt off. Someone kept laughing at her. Who was laughing? The room tilted. Ladybug instinctively leaned hard to correct and fell against the bar, sending glass shattering. Muttering scattered apologies, she righted herself.
She had to get out of here before she fainted…or worse. She couldn't be here when they found Victor. Jail wasn't an option she was willing to consider. She needed to stay conscious. Her lungs were on fire. Her limbs were leaden. Whatever he'd given her was strong. Too strong.
People stared at her, unwilling to help as she struggled. She crashed into a man in a dark leather jacket. He cursed and shoved her toward the exit of the cabaret, which was exactly the break she needed.
Miraculously, she managed to escape the cabaret’s depths. Sobbing lightly in relief, she forced herself to climb up a fire escape. She needed to get higher before she was spotted. With the last ounce of strength she had left, Ladybug hauled herself onto a rooftop. As her vision went black, she found herself thinking of the boy and his uncomplicated life of luxury in his mansion on the hill. In this moment, she'd have given anything to switch places. Her heart slowed. Should've done that Agreste job first, she thought hazily. Her heartbeat sputtered. Then stopped. She knew nothing more.