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English
Series:
Part 53 of "Mind Games"-verse , Part 6 of The Colossus Saga , Part 13 of The Snake and the Dragon
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Published:
2021-06-22
Completed:
2021-07-07
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31,849
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16/16
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75
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27
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Quest for Claire

Summary:

A “Mind Games”-verse “Colossus Saga” story:

The sun had set several hours ago when Night Bat strode up to the front door of the apartment building. The end of a long, drawn-out hunt, one which had stretched over centuries.

A sign hanging on the door read “Mir Tebe” [“Peace to You”]. He scoffed, raised an eyebrow in amusement, and kicked in the door. “Demonta!” The door shattered, the black energy emanating from his foot connecting with the metal and bowing it in, pulling it off its hinges so it landed just inside the entryway. He stepped onto the caved-in door, his sword drawn, scanning the apartment for signs of life.

At the dining table sat a woman with streaks of grey in her sandy hair, the remains of a simple dinner spread out in front of her. She gasped on seeing Night Bat in her home, her eyes widening in fear. “Who–who are you?”

Night Bat sneered. “As if you do not recognize me… Olivet.”

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The sun had set several hours ago when Night Bat strode up to the front door of the apartment building. The end of a long, drawn-out hunt, one which had stretched over centuries. He had found clues before now, but to no avail – every time it had been a dead end. Twice before he had thought that he had found her, but both times they had claimed ignorance until he ran them through. He had never stopped looking, despite the setbacks and despite the false leads. And yet, they had always had ways to remain hidden.

Until now.

There was a bitter irony to this particular hunt. When he had arrived in Paris, almost exactly one year ago, he had been perfectly content to send this Hato Gozen on a wild goose chase, to allow her to expend all her efforts in following false leads throughout Paris while he watched from the shadows and investigated these rumors of the late Hawk Moth and the Heroes of Paris. Then, thanks in part to Hato Gozen herself, he had fallen into league with this Lynchpin, the petty criminal seeking to spread a network through the Paris underworld. Thus Night Bat had come to work with the Lynchpin. And thus Night Bat came to be here.

This particular clue had appeared back in the fall, when the Lynchpin’s source in the post office had taken note of a letter that had been sent to a post office box in Russia with no return address. That itself had not been enough for Night Bat to act. However, a letter with a Moscow cancellation had come to a box in Paris a couple months later, which had been followed by another letter to Russia. The postal worker had not been in a position to see the person who mailed or received the letters, but that had not mattered. While Night Bat didn’t know too much about her, he could still remember the year he had spent in Russia, chasing shadows. She had appeared no different when next they fought, but the timing aligned. He had left Paris as soon as he found out about the letters, and had spent the last two months searching Moscow from end to end, until finally he had found this apartment.

The apartment building was locked. Night Bat placed his hand on the knob and muttered, “Deschide.” With a click the locking mechanism disengaged and he threw the door open. Night Bat strode purposefully down the hallway, eyes and ears attuned for signs that the other residents were going to investigate. But none of the doors opened. He frowned as he picked his way along the filth-stained hallway. Garbage bags lined the walls, along with the remains of a destroyed television set. Given the state of the building and neighborhood, he supposed none of the residents would care or notice until he was long gone. Which suited his purposes just fine.

If he was correct, the apartment he sought was on the second floor. He sneered as the staircase creaked under his feet. Water stains and worse left streaks down the chipped paint. Dirt and grease clung to his gloves when he touched the handrails. The second-floor hallway had the remains of boxed and packing materials in front of an apartment door close to the stairwell, falling apart from age. Night Bat’s nose turned up at the smell that seemed to permeate the building. Was this all that she could afford? After all these years, she should at least have been able to find decent living quarters.

But, then, wallowing in squalor was an appropriate “retirement” for his enemy.

The apartment in question had a metal door only marginally cleaner than the other ones he had passed, with a small arc of cleanliness in the floor and walls to either side. A sign hanging on the door read “Mir Tebe” [“Peace to You”]. He scoffed, raised an eyebrow at the sign in amusement, and kicked in the door. “Demonta!” The door shattered, the black energy emanating from his foot connecting with the metal and bowing it in, pulling it off its hinges so it landed just inside the entryway. He stepped onto the caved-in door, his sword drawn, scanning the apartment for signs of life.

The apartment itself was only lightly furnished, though with a homey feel to it. A secondhand armchair and loveseat sat against one wall in front of a refinished coffee table. The bookcase beside the door held a small number of books, most in Russian with a handful more in English. A picture of a little blonde girl standing in front of a too-familiar woman and her tall, thin husband sat on the old, battered desk. Two doors opened out of the sitting room, a mean twin bed with a simple comforter visible through one and the bathroom through the other. To the right, the sitting room transitioned into a kitchenette with simple appliances and a small dining table. All told, the entire apartment was no more than 35 square meters.

At the dining table sat a woman with streaks of grey in her sandy hair, the remains of a simple dinner spread out in front of her. She gasped on seeing Night Bat in her home, her eyes widening in fear. “Who–who are you?”

Night Bat sneered. “As if you do not recognize me… Olivet.”

She furrowed her brows, cocking her head at him in confusion. “I–I have no idea what–”

He cut her off. “Do not play games with me,” he scoffed, his eyes fixed steadily on hers, searching for recognition. “I know you received letters from that whelp of yours in Paris.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any–”

“I know you lie,” he interrupted, his mouth set in a thin line and eyes narrowed. He had come too far to be stymied by such paltry excuses. “The picture? And even without that, the sign on your door was far too much of a giveaway. You are Olivet. You cannot hide any longer.”

The woman sighed heavily, all traces of fear vanishing in an instant. Calmly she picked up her glass and took a sip of the water, leaning back in her chair. “Very well, then, Bat,” she responded, spitting out his name like a curse, a dispassionate look on her face, staring him in the eye. “You tracked me down. It took you long enough.”

“You weren’t worth my time before now,” Night Bat replied, waving his hand dismissively. “I was content to allow you to… enjoy… your ‘retirement,’ my dear Olivet.” He looked around the room and let out an amused snort, knocking a porcelain figurine off a bookcase to smash on the floor as he did so. “Such as it is.”

She arched an eyebrow at him wryly. “How unexpectedly gracious of you.”

“Come now,” he scoffed. “After all these years, do you think I would be so petty as to come after you now, helpless as you now are?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “After all these years, I think you would assault your own mother if you had the chance.”

He hummed. “Yes, I suppose you would think that of me,” he mused. “And perhaps you are even correct.” He stared down at her. “So, then, what are you going to do now?”

“Are you expecting me to beg?” she demanded, her eyes flashing with anger. “It won’t work.”

“I would be disappointed if you begged, Olivet,” he told her evenly. “That would make a poor end for a foe of your tenacity. Even if you are at my mercy now.”

Her eyes flicked down to the pommel of his sword and back up to his face, her blue eyes fearless. “Then how will you do it? Long and drawn out, or quick with the sword?” She pulled aside the collar of her shirt to show a thin white line along her collarbone. “I still carry the memory of that first battle we fought, you know.”

He smirked at her maliciously. “Ah, yes… Indonesia… But no…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I will not make it so easy on you.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she agreed. “I’m sure you will drag this out as long as you can.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your death?” She nodded. “That is inevitable for one such as you,” he told her. “But no… I do not intend to kill you. Yet. I have far greater plans for you.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

He leered at her, placing his hands on the table and looming over her with all his height. “Now that I have you at my mercy and I know exactly where to find your pathetic progeny–” Her eyes widened fractionally “–I have so much more that I can do with you. After all, what is more powerful than the love of a daughter for her mother? What might your brat be willing to sacrifice to see you safe?” He leaned in closer. “And what greater triumph could there be than for me to take your daughter’s miraculous to ‘spare your life,’ only to kill you in front of her eyes? Then she will know the extent of her failure, that it was her mistake that brought about this end. And only then, when she begs me for death on seeing the magnitude of what she has done, will I finally end her life.”

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth setting in a thin line. “That’s what you think is going to happen?”

He leaned back and placed his hand on the handle of his sword. “That is how it will happen, my dear Olivet,” he informed her. “You no longer have your sash, and that troublesome spawn of yours is in Paris where she cannot save you… Without your miraculous, without the source of your power, you are nothing but a helpless old woman.”

The former Olivet scoffed, her eyes beginning to glow brilliant white. Night Bat’s eyes widened in surprise. “I may not have my miraculous, Bat,” she spat out, rising from her chair, “but you will find that I am far from a ‘helpless old woman’!”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Sitting in the main dining room on a quiet Saturday morning, Mira quietly helped herself to three fresh-baked croissants, idly skimming through one of the books from the Mansion library. Paxx sat in front of her on the table with a plate of fruit, with a few other Kwamis – Tikki, Plagg, Kheaa, and Duusu – scattered around the room. Most of the others staying at the Mansion were here this morning, providing a soft undercurrent of conversation, though Mira wasn’t paying attention to any of it. Victor and Pedro seemed to be discussing the finer points of baseball on the other side of the table. Fu had turned on the television, adding to the white noise in the background. Mira flipped a page in her book and looked closer at the illustration. It had taken her a while to find anything that interested her in the Mansion library: most of Gabriel’s books had been fashion-related; most of Emilie’s had been romances and mysteries. But off to the side, looking like they had seen little use over the last few years, Mira had found a sizable collection of history books. A note in one had included the name “Elisabeth Avereux.” According to Emilie, her family had collected these books over the years as part of their research. Some of them included annotations about possible miraculous users that had appeared throughout the centuries. Over the last year, Mira had begun steadily working her way through those books, hunting for information. In a Japanese history she had found a painting of Tomoe Gozen, which she had copied and placed in her room. Today she had started reading a compendium of Viking-Age legends. The page she had turned to – the Beowulf saga – included a note in neat lettering: “Miraculous? But which??? Maybe the Ox?”

Mira turned the book around to face Paxx and pointed to the picture. “I assume that’s not actually the Ox Miraculous,” she told the Kwami. “Any ideas?”

Paxx leaned closer, her brows furrowed in thought. Touching the picture with one wing, she nodded and leaned back. “I’m pretty sure that’s Hernn,” she answered, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

“Which miraculous is he again?”

“Reindeer.” Paxx pursed her beak-lips and folded her wings, looking down at her plate.

“I know,” Mira agreed, patting the Kwami’s head and stroking the feathers down her back. She sighed heavily. “I don’t like it either. If I’d known about the others sooner…”

Paxx’s head drooped. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, her lip quivering. “I really wasn’t supposed to explain it at all – apart from Guardians, we keep that information as secret as possible. That way if a miraculous falls into the wrong hands, that danger can’t compound into a catastrophe!” She paused and her shoulders slumped. “But I almost did tell. I thought about explaining everything so many times over the years. I almost told Tomoe Gozen when I realized Levii might have been in Japan at the same time. But I couldn’t be sure it really was him. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Or distract her from the battle with Bella’s… holder. Or–”

“No, I understand,” Mira assured her. “If I had known about the others before meeting Ryoku and Viperion, I don’t know how I would have focused on the Bat. But now–” She paused, cocking her head. Voices from the hallway drew her attention to the doorway.

“I don’t know, Princess. This rainstorm could force us to cancel the photoshoot today, and then what would we do?” Adrien stepped aside and ushered Marinette in, one hand on her back.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “We are not asking Sabrina to bring back Stormy Weather just to make sure it doesn’t rain today!”

“Oh, fine,” he grumbled as they found seats near Emilie. “But can we ask Kagami instead? I don’t think she’d mind.”

“I’m pretty sure her miraculous only lets her create storms, not prevent them!” Mira interjected, stifling a laugh.

“You’re no fun,” Adrien pouted, folding his arms until Marinette shoved a croissant into his mouth.

“Kid, I’ve been telling you that for years now,” Plagg called, tossing a piece of cheese into the air and catching it in his mouth. “But do you listen to me? Noooo…” As he tossed another piece of cheese, Tikki flicked a piece of croissant into his mouth. Plagg glared at her, spluttering.

Marinette giggled, watching them. “If today doesn’t work out, then we can do tomorrow,” she told Adrien. “I already checked, and the park is free between 3 and 4 tomorrow, as long as Marcel can make it – Juleka is free already.”

“What would I do without you?”

“What indeed?” mused Fu, eyeing them carefully.

Marinette smirked impishly and kissed Adrien’s cheek. “Probably forget how to match clothes!”

He shrugged. “These days I have people for that!”

Mira shook her head in amusement. Everything in the Mansion was so different than what she remembered growing up. She had lived her first few years with her father before Mother returned for her to begin her training. It had just been the two of them for years, and then it had been Mira by herself. And when she had moved into the Mansion after living on her own and looking out for herself for so long, it had taken months for her to get used to the idea of eating with a large group of other people who were so… comfortable together. Even still, she couldn’t believe that she had found a home here.

Fu chuckled and started to say something else, but suddenly sneezed into his elbow. He shook his head and rubbed his forehead before letting out another cough. Kheaa patted him on the back a couple times in concern. Waving the Kwami away, Fu took a drink of water and groaned. “I apologize; it must be my allergies.”

“I don’t recall you ever having allergies before, though,” Marianne commented, looking at him in some concern.

“Try some green tea with the local honey,” Emilie suggested, pouring herself some more orange juice. “I always find that that helps when the pollen gets to me.”

Fu hummed. “It is that time of the year, is it not?”

Further down the table, Jalil glanced away from his own book and scoffed. “There is a reason I stay inside most days,” he noted.

“Sure that’s not because it fits the wise old hermit vibe you’re going for?” Pedro asked, snorting.

Mira was about to comment when the office door slammed against the wall, echoing down the entryway into the dining room, and footsteps pounded against the marble staircase. Mira looked over at the doorway in surprise and confusion, her transformation phrase already on her lips. Around her, everyone else in the room had tensed and Adrien was halfway out of his chair.

“No – yes – yes, I know. No – we had nothing to do with it. But we will look into it and report back.” Max burst into the dining room, tablet in hand, both Turing and Markov hovering beside his head. He groaned in frustration and jammed his phone into his pocket.

“Um… you okay there, Max?” Adrien began hesitantly. “Do you need a coffee? Maybe some of Father’s brandy?”

Max glanced at him in surprise. “Huh? Oh! No… That was RSA. Their satellites picked something up last night.”

Marinette was already on her feet. “What’s the situation?” she demanded in a voice that allowed no argument.

Max grimaced. “That would be the thing – they are unsure.”

“Uh, guys?” Jalil cut in, staring at the television. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?”

Mira followed his gaze toward the television, and her heart stopped. The scene on the screen was one of utter destruction: a rundown tenement building with one entire corner of the structure blown out as though from an explosion. Smoke continued to float out through the opening; loose papers and bits of insulation fluttered in the breeze as police and rescue workers scurried around the scene. The caption at the bottom of the broadcast identified a neighborhood on the south side of Moscow. Mira swallowed. “Mom…” she whispered. She didn’t know where her mother actually lived – her mail only went to a post office box, and neither of them ever included street addresses with their correspondence. But if she had followed her own instructions, her mother would have chosen an apartment building like this one to live in.

“They’re calling it a gas leak,” Adrien read, frowning. “Why are they contacting us?”

“That is the official story,” Max confirmed, his mouth set in a thin line. “However, the news services have not gotten the full story. Here are two images captured by an RSA satellite that was overhead at that time. The resolution is poor, but I think it is sufficient.” He nodded to Turing, who activated his holographic projector to show an image of that same apartment building. At another command he shifted to show that apartment building as the corner erupted outward, sending a shower of debris over the street. But that was not was captured Mira’s attention.

The explosion was tinged with mingled dark and light energy.

Mira’s stomach clenched into a tight knot. She swallowed hard, her heart racing. From across the table she could feel Emilie’s eyes boring into her soul, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the shimmery image. Adrien, Marinette, and Max’s voices came to her, as though from a distance, but she didn’t pay them any heed. “I – I have to go,” she mumbled to no one in particular, pushing herself away from the table and speed-walking out of the room. Paxx landed on her shoulder and nuzzled against her cheek as she pulled out her cell phone and typed in a number she had memorized years ago but had never saved. “Come on, come on,” she muttered as the phone rang, pacing the entryway in agitation. No answer. Mira could feel her panic building as she called the number again, with the same result. After her fourth failed attempt, she almost threw the phone across the room in frustration. But that wouldn’t do anything.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” Paxx consoled her. “Olivet was one of the most adept magic users I’ve seen in centuries.”

Mira swallowed hard. “I – I have to go. Right now. I have to be there.”

Paxx flitted in front of her face and shook her head adamantly. “No! That would be playing right into his hands! He wants to get to you!” she squeaked, eyes wide. “He wants to get your miraculous!”

Mira couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. “But she needs help. I’m here, and she needs help.”

“She needs more help than just you.”

Mira nodded jerkily and glanced back into the dining room. She could hear Adrien and Marinette arguing about whether an Atlantean Miraculous could have caused the explosion. Max interjected that it could have been a Shunjar sleeper agent. Pedro was adamant that the Dark Acolytes didn’t have a presence in Russia. Mira forced herself to take a breath and dialed Kagami’s number.

Luka let out a groan as the call connected. “Hello?”


“–And so the Bat must have tracked her down somehow.” Mira paced the Liberty’s lower deck in agitation, wringing her hands while Paxx rubbed her wings against the side of her neck. Luka and Kagami had been joined by Juleka, Rose, and Anarka, who sat quietly on the bench along the wall, watching her. “But I can’t imagine how he–” Mira froze and stared at the wall. “The letters…” she gasped, eyes wide. “I sent her two letters!”

“How could he have tracked you?” wondered Rose. “Could he have seen you?”

Mira shook her head. “No – of course not. I was careful both times. No one could have seen my face.”

Luka frowned, a troubled look in his eyes. “If that’s the case, Night Bat must have someone in the postal service,” he pointed out.

Juleka groaned. “Lynchpin. That’s the only explanation.”

“We need to let the others know,” Luka decided. “They need to track down the leak.”

“Is that really what’s important right now?” Mira stared at the others, her heart pounding. “I–we–I have to do something! He went after my mother!”

Kagami glanced at Luka, nodded firmly, and stood up. Placing a hand on Mira’s shoulder, she asked, “So when do we leave?”

“‘We’?” Mira stared at them, hardly daring to hope.

“I said ‘they’ need to track down the leak,” Luka clarified. “The rest of the Heroes can do that, while we handle this situation. But we are going to help you. And your mom.”

“You don’t think we’re letting you go off on your own to find your mom, do you?” Rose asked, walking over and giving Mira a big hug. “You’re part of the family, and that means we’re coming with you.”

“Just as long as you don’t run off on us again!” added Juleka, smirking.

“Thanks, guys.” Mira let out a breath and pulled all of them into a hug, choking back a sniffle. “It–it means a lot that I have you.”

Anarka cleared her throat and stood up. “You lot ain’t going anywhere…” she began, folding her arms. “Leastways, not without me!”

Luka cocked his head in confusion. “Mom?”

Anarka raised an eyebrow at him. “It sounds like you need all the help you can get,” she informed them. “And considering that last time you left, one of my daughters was sick as a seadog for a week afterward, and the time before that you broke my other daughter–”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he grumbled, as Kagami patted his back consolingly.

“–what’s going to happen to Juleka or Mira if I let you run off alone this time?” Anarka continued, ignoring his interruption. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you five out of my sight again!”

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Night Bat stood in the shadow of an alley across from the devastated apartment building, watching as rescue workers ran in and out of the building, escorting shell-shocked residents to the waiting buses. Others pounded on the doors to the buildings on either side of Olivet’s, trying to evacuate them just in case the devastation spread. A news van had stopped on the other side of the street, the cameraman with his oversized camera pointed at a reporter in far too much makeup and standing in front of the rubble. Night Bat’s jaw clenched. Ever since the news media had begun to adapt, he had found it harder and harder to operate from the shadows as he preferred: flashbulbs could illuminate darkness that should have been left alone.

Unfortunately, the news was the least of his problems at the moment.

The battle with Olivet had been furious but brief, leaving her apartment in shambled, without a stick of furniture left undamaged. She had fought with a tenacity he had not seen from her in many years, since before the birth of her accursed offspring. The fight had concluded less than an hour ago, leaving him without his prize. He frowned, stroking his chin in contemplation as a group of firefighters picked through the rubble at the base of the building. He had not counted on Olivet retaining any of her magic without the miraculous to fuel it – nothing in the last millennium of this cat-and-mouse game had ever suggested that as a possibility. That had been an unpleasant discovery. And unfortunately, this miscalculation meant that he would have to reevaluate his plan for cornering and capturing his quarry. Furrowing his brows in contemplation, Night Bat withdrew the cell phone that Lynchpin had given him and pressed a button.

A mechanical voice answered moments later. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“The time is unimportant,” he retorted shortly. “My investigation in Moscow hit a snag. I am going to bring in some assistance from Paris.”

“No.”

“I did not phrase that as a question.”

“With your extended absence, I need my ‘Lynchpin-ions’–” Night Bat scoffed to himself “–here, not running errands for you two time zones away.”

“And I need my team giving me support here,” he answered, glaring darkly at the brickwork of the alley. “Need I remind you that you asked me to lead this team?”

“I also recall giving you that position to lead my superhuman team – formed using my money and my people – after you had nearly been captured by a trio of miraculous users,” Lynchpin pointed out. “And I recall forming this team to facilitate my operations in Paris and secure my position here. Need I remind you that you do not dictate the terms to me?”

Night Bat pinched the bridge of his nose. He had spent the better part of a millennium propping up petty warlords and dictators and crime bosses, most often manipulating them from behind the scenes through their basest desires. He had given them subtle nudges in the direction that he wanted them to go and perfected his craft to the point that he rarely needed to exert his full strength against his “patrons.” Before now, he had only rarely left the shadows to act in a more public manner, but the circumstances of Paris had necessitated that change of strategy. His decision to work with the Lynchpin had been predicated on their partly-aligned objective of building a team that could act against a miraculous user like the Dove. Here and now he had a prime opportunity – exactly the reason that he had built up this team.

And yet, this Lynchpin lacked vision. He thought that he could build a criminal empire in the face of an organized group of “heroes” like the Heroes of Paris, and just use his miraculous users and other superhumans as little more than glorified muscle. Hitler had been the same way: he had seen his superhuman soldiers as a testament to his own power and failed to see the bigger picture, the sheer potential of being able to deploy soldiers like the Knight to cut through Allied lines singlehandedly. He had been far too interested in pageantry.

Of course, even though Hitler had proven to be singularly inept as a “patron,” their partnership had still provided Night Bat with many years of power, among other prizes.

But this Lynchpin required more of a delicate touch, to feel far greater control than he perhaps had. Finally Night Bat answered him, “With sufficient assistance right now, I will deal a severe blow to the Heroes of Paris, leaving their ability to fight us in Paris crippled. And it would happen outside of Paris, thus avoiding any more press coverage of your operation.”

Lynchpin let out a breath. “How long?”

“Long enough to capture at least one miraculous, and possibly more.”

“Fine. But Ladybug is still mine if she shows up.”

Night Bat shrugged. “I have no interest in her or her miraculous. Have your plane standing by.” The moment the call had ended, he dialed again.

“What do you want, Bat?” the Prior demanded irritably.

“Get on a plane. You are to be in Moscow in the morning. Bring a few of the other ‘Lynchpin-ions’.”

“What’s going on?”

“I have a lead that will get us one step closer to defeating the Heroes of Paris.”

“And this lead is…”

“The former Dove Miraculous holder.”

The Prior scoffed. “No. I have no interest in devoting resources to someone who does not have a miraculous when there are about twenty of the miraculous abusers right here in Paris, and only one in Moscow!”

Night Bat clenched his jaw. How much he wished he could simply Kiss the Prior and be done with the man and his insolence. “Yet again you show your lack of forward thinking,” he told him irritably. “You only know of one way to carry out your ‘crusade’ against miraculous users. Matching the Heroes of Paris with strength against strength has not worked. Attempting to ambush them in Paris has failed you. In both cases you have attempted to fight them on their own turf, where they are expecting a fight, and they have somehow succeeded in outmaneuvering you. However, this is a prime opportunity to gain an advantage. Not only is this woman a former miraculous user, but she is the mother of the current Dove Miraculous holder. Once we have captured her, we will be able to use her as bait to lure the Heroes of Paris into a trap.”

The Prior was silent for a moment. “Moscow, you say? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the news, would it?”

“Word has gotten out internationally?” Night Bat stifled a groan and glared at the news van on the other side of the street. The thought of electrocuting the van, decapitating the cameraman to destroy his camera, and using his Kiss on the reporter passed through his mind, but he dismissed it as a needless complication. Nonetheless, this would complicate matters. He had hoped for at least a little more time to prepare before the Heroes learned of this situation. “In that case you must get on the plane all the sooner. The Heroes of Paris will come here as soon as they realize what has happened. But with the right assistance, I believe we can lure them – and this Dove – into a trap.”


After six hours of fruitless searching through the city, Night Bat idled in front of Sheremetyevo Airport in a rented van, de-transformed to avoid drawing attention to himself. After centuries of working alone, this was the second time in 80 years that he had found himself working with other powered individuals, and still he was unaccustomed to the change to his preferred method. It was better for him to avoid drawing attention, while his teammates so often preferred the spotlight. Thus, the Doves so often found him when he led a group. And yet, there were so many ways that his millennium-long rivalry against the Dove could be furthered when he had the greater resources of a team.

But all the same: at least when he’d worked with Hitler, he’d had a driver of his own.

“Why did you not tell me that Doves retain their magic after relinquishing their miraculous?”

“Excuse me?” Bella looked up from the meager portion of dried fruit that he had poured out for her and fixed him with a look of wide-eyed surprise. “What makes you think that?”

Night Bat’s eyes narrowed darkly. “I fought one last night,” he informed her shortly. Bella dropped the dried apricot she had been holding between her paper-thin wings. “And she fought back – with her magic.”

An indecipherable look passed across Bella’s eyes. “It is most unusual for a miraculous holder to retain any of their abilities after relinquishing their miraculous,” she told him.

“And would I?”

She furrowed her brows. “You would find out for certain if you relinquished your miraculous, Vojnus.”

His eyes flashed. “You will tell me the answer to my questions!”

Bella shrank back and looked away from him, down into her pile of raisins. “You would retain your magic without your miraculous.”

“And what more do I not know about the Dove?”

“There is much that you do not know,” she answered, her voice trembling. “Purity is able to do many things in the hands of a trained wielder… just as Corruption can.”

“Yes, the myth of your last Atlantean holder, who was so much more powerful than myself when I first found you.” He leered at her in amusement. “And how do my powers compare now?”

“You have done things with my miraculous the likes of which she had never dreamed.”

Night Bat smirked maliciously and turned his attention to the terminal. “You would do well to remember that, old friend.”

Finally the Prior walked out through the exit doors, followed by his Deacon and Deaconess, as well as Cerna and the Bearator, all in their civilian attire. Night Bat frowned on seeing the assortment that the Prior had brought. Cerna would be a great asset in scouring the city, and the Deacon had proven himself reasonably well against miraculous users in the past. These four could blend into their surroundings better than some others, but would they be the most useful in the coming fight. Perhaps he should have specified that he would prefer Tyran-X and Mecha-Man over the Bearator or the Deaconess. Although it could have been worse: the Prior could have brought Killer Bee. He flashed his headlights, and the five moved in his direction.

“I don’t know…” the Deaconess was saying as she tossed her bag into the van in front of her and climbed all the way to the back seat, followed by Cerna. “I wasn’t a huge fan of the premise.”

“What’s not to like?” Cerna demanded, raising an eyebrow. Hernn phased out of Cerna’s purse and landed on her shoulder. “It’s a vampire girl who has to try to fit in with Paris society.”

“And I get that, but why does vampirism have to be a genetic mutation?”

Cerna hummed. “It’s just a story; there are a lot of ways to get to the idea of vampires. But would you rather watch something else, then?” asked Cerna as the other three piled into the van.

The Deaconess shrugged. “I mean, we already started it; it seems like a shame not to watch the last couple episodes. Though after that, I’m picking something for us to watch for the rest of the flight home.”

“Deal!”

In the seat in front of them, the Deacon resolutely stared out the window, examining the buildings of the airport. The Bearator took the seat next to him but slid as far as he could away from him. Watching him in the reflection on the window, the Deacon’s eyes flicked over toward the Bearator and settled on his miraculous, narrowing predatorily. Night Bat caught his gaze in the rearview mirror, and his mouth set in a thin line.

Claiming the passenger seat for himself, the Prior gave Night Bat a nod of greeting. “I have a plan for this manhunt,” he began.

“Oh, really,” Night Bat sneered, pulling out into traffic and driving south through the city, back to the neighborhood where Olivet had lived. “You have a plan to defeat a former miraculous user and her miraculous-wielding allies?”

“My people have been battling miraculous users for millennia. I know what I’m doing.”

Night Bat hummed. “After all of the success you have enjoyed over the years, I’m sure you do.” He jerked his head into the backseat toward the Bearator.

The Prior glared at him. “And I suppose you are the expert on fighting these particular miraculous?” he shot back.

“I have been fighting Doves for a millennium.”

“And there’s your answer: fighting, rather than defeating, for a millennium.”

Night Bat cleared his throat as he pulled to a stop in a parking lot several blocks from the apartment building. That Kiss was looking more appealing with every word the Prior spoke. “Split up and search,” he ordered the five others. “Olivet was living in a building down that street to the south. If you find anyone acting suspicious, contact me immediately. And if you see any of the Heroes of Paris, do not engage them until I say.”

Cerna nodded obediently and hopped out with the Deaconess. The two of them left together in the direction of the apartment building, talking animatedly as they walked. The Prior and Deacon split up, going east and west along the side streets. The Bearator, however, gave Night Bat a curious look and leaned back in his seat. “So where are we going to go, boss?”

Night Bat hummed, examining him contemplatively. “Are you not going to follow my directions?”

The Bearator shrugged. “It’s not like Cerna and those Acolytes can’t search the city blindly just as well as I can,” he pointed out. “You’re not out there hunting, so I think that means you already have an idea. And I’d rather stick close and back you up.”

“You think I need backup?” Night Bat arched an eyebrow in amusement, and the Bearator gulped. Night Bat smirked. “But perhaps company would not be amiss. We are going to find an old friend.”

Bearator raised an eyebrow, examining the rundown tenement buildings around them with some interest. “I haven’t been out of the country before.”

“I have been all over the world in my many years,” Night Bat replied, driving east and following the rings around toward the farthest east in the city proper.

“Do you think I’ll get more chances to travel, working for you and Lynchpin?” asked the Bearator.

Night Bat grinned maliciously. “If you stay with me, then perhaps you will get to see more,” he agreed. “I was last here in Moscow… twenty years ago?” He shrugged. “I think the time before was at least forty. At a certain point it’s easier to remember decades than years. But I have found in my experience that the more things change, the more they stay the same.” Bearator nodded. “And so, for example, if you are looking for someone who doesn’t wish to be found, you need to check with other people who likewise don’t wish to be found.” Night Bat parked the car outside of a rundown old building and muttered his transformation phrase, nodding for the Bearator to do the same.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Claire alit on top of an apartment complex almost two kilometers north of her apartment building, stumbling a bit on the landing. She had tested out her magic a handful of times over the years since passing the miraculous down to Mira – mostly little things like producing her own light at night. But she had always been careful to avoid drawing suspicion or notice, so she had not used her wings since the last time she had transformed. In the distance behind her, illuminated by the emergency vehicles below and the stars above, she could still see smoke trailing up into the air from the hole that she and the Bat and punched through the wall. He certainly hadn’t been expecting her to fight back – not as vociferously as she had, at least. When she retired, her mother had explained that above all, retired Doves must maintain the secret and not use magic against the Bat. Claire had been willing to die to protect that advantage… up until the Bat threatened Mira.

This is why they had kept the secret for so long. This was the moment to fight back: not just the mission, but her daughter’s life, was on the line.

And yet, it had only taken a matter of moments for Claire to recognize that she was hopelessly outmatched against the Bat. Without the miraculous enhancing her magic, her abilities were far weaker than they had been. It had been enough to escape, but she could not fight the Bat – not on her own. She frowned and concentrated, releasing the last of her magic, and her wings disappeared back into her shoulders. Perhaps flying would be her best option to put more distance between herself and the Bat, but without a destination in mind, that would only draw undue attention and make her an easy target for the Bat. For now, she was safer on foot. Crossing to the fire escape, she cautiously climbed down to the ground.

On reaching the ground, she hitched her go-bag higher on her shoulder, letting out a breath. From the moment she was old enough to walk, her mother had insisted that she keep a bag packed at all times and within ready reach. When they had been hunting the Bat across Southeast Asia and sub-Saharan Africa, that bag had come in handy more times than she could count – fleeing from petty warlords more than anything else. She had been fully retired and living in Moscow for years now, but Claire had never allowed herself to get out of the habit. Now she was glad she had maintained it. The rest of the stuff in her apartment was lost, but it was just stuff; this bag included everything she really needed.

Unfortunately, the one thing she hadn’t packed in this bag was a plan of where to go and what to do if the Bat tracked her down and drove her from her home. When she moved in, she had scouted exits and ways out of the city, but she had never set up a backup apartment to hide. For now, she knew she had to stay on the move and get as far away from the Bat as she could. But what was her destination? Mira was in Paris…

The chill March wind tore through her light sweater as though it wasn’t even there. It was a cold night, as most were in Moscow during the late winter and early spring. Claire blew on her hands, trying to keep them from shaking. Concentrating on the action, she warmed her breath with a whispered word of magic, suffusing warmth throughout her body. She could continue like this indefinitely… but that wouldn’t actually get her anywhere.

A stone kicked across the alleyway behind her, and Claire spun around, hand coming up and producing a brilliant glowing orb in front of her, almost the last reserve of magic she had available after her fight against Night Bat. In the white gleam, her eyes found a man wearing a white parka with a splash of bright red on the pockets and hood. The top of an unusual pole-arm was visible over his shoulder strapped to his back. A pair of goggles hid his eyes. Claire tensed, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, ready to extinguish her light in an instant.

The figure stared at her glowing hand for a long moment before he looked up at her face. “Madam,” he began, head cocked, “What are you doing out at this hour?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorted evenly, not moving her hand away from him, weighing her options for escape. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

He nodded in realization, mouth opening in a small O, and held his hands up in front of his face. “Take it easy… My name is Nochnoy Storozh,” he told her. “I’m the leader of the Geroi Moskvy; tonight I’m out on patrol.”

You didn’t do a great job of that tonight, she grumbled to herself, her eyes narrowing on him and taking in his appearance. After so long, her instinct was still to stay by herself and try to get to Mira. But still, she couldn’t afford to turn away help when it was offered – especially when it might entirely resolve her greatest problem. “Call me… ‘Olivet,’” she told him. “‘Geroi Moskvy,’ you say?” Claire shrugged. “I’ll come in with you; from what you say, you may actually be able to help me. Do you have somewhere safe that we can talk?”

Nochnoy Storozh grinned and clapped his hands in excitement. “Excellent!” he enthused, carefully leading her out of the alleyway in which they had met, then down another street. Claire followed him cautiously, not relaxing her vigilance for one second, watching him carefully for any sign of deception. Nochnoy Storozh suddenly turned down a back alley before climbing down three steps and rapping sharply on the door. “Open up, Svyatogor!” he called cheerfully. “I brought a guest.”

The door creaked open a tiny bit, and a large round head poked out. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping this place a secret.”

Nochnoy Storozh shrugged and nodded to Claire. “I figured we could make an exception for her.”

“For who?” a feminine voice called from further inside the basement room.

“My name is ‘Olivet’,” Claire announced. The door swung open a little further to admit them, and Claire followed Nochnoy Storozh inside a single-room basement with a low ceiling. “Or at least that’s the name I went by.”

The room was sparsely furnished, with a heavily-marked map of Moscow tacked to one wall and a couple of old tables set against the other walls. An old computer sat on one of the tables next to a printer; a game of chess was set up on the other table. Beat-up couches lined the walls, with exercise equipment taking of up one of the corners. A handful of old chairs surrounded a dining table near the center of the room, and a woman wearing a long blue dress with white sleeves stood up from one of the couches to face them, setting aside a book as she did so.

The man beside the door, an enormous man whose arms appeared as wide around as Claire’s waist and who wore a red leather suit and a blue helmet, eyed her suspiciously. “What did you bring her here for?” he asked Nochnoy Storozh.

“I found her out on the street.” Nochnoy Storozh gestured for Claire to take a seat at the main table. “She’s got some sort of magic, and she needs our help, so I brought her back here,” he informed the others. Pointing to the woman he told Claire, “This is Koldunya, and that’s Svyatogor – he’s our muscle.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that explosion, would you?” asked Koldunya, arching an eyebrow at Claire.

“What do you mean?” Claire examined her closely.

“That explosion. It released a massive wave of magical energy – I felt it all the way from here.”

Claire nodded slowly. “Yes,” she admitted, collapsing into one of the unoccupied chairs. “I was attacked by a… sorcerer, I guess you might call him? The Bat – he’s a miraculous user who also has magical abilities. I got away from him, but only just.”

“He just… attacked you?” Koldunya sat down opposite Claire and fixed her with a penetrating stare, examining her carefully. She interlaced her fingers on the table, not taking her eyes off of Claire.

Claire let out a breath. Tonight seemed to be a night for firsts, and this would be no different. She had only ever told Mira this story, but now, when she was alone and on the run, was not the time for greater secrecy. If she was going to get their assistance, she would have to tell them enough to win their trust. “The Bat and my family have been rivals for centuries,” she explained. “He came after me, thinking to use me against my daughter, the Dove – Hato Gozen. She’s with the Heroes of Paris now.”

Nochnoy Storozh hummed contemplatively. “So this Bat is after you because your daughter is a Hero of Paris?”

Claire nodded.

“So what are we waiting around here for?” demanded Svyatogor, cracking his knuckles. “Sounds like someone needs to lose some teeth!”

Koldunya slowly shook her head. “You could be the one to lose teeth if you’re not careful,” she warned. “If he has magic and a miraculous, don’t you think we should think this through first?” she prodded Nochnoy Storozh.

Nochnoy Storozh frowned. “But if we have you and Olivet, shouldn’t we be okay against him? Svyatogor can keep him busy while you two restrain him for the police.”

Koldunya gave him a dubious look. “We hardly know anything about him; we need more information if we’re going to come up with a good plan of attack.”

Svyatogor scoffed and cracked his knuckles. “All the information I need is a location, and I’ll turn this Bat into a Pretzel-Bat!”

Claire raised an eyebrow dubiously. “I don’t think you understand what we’re dealing with here,” she warned them. “Look, I appreciate all of your enthusiasm, and I’m very glad I met you so I’m not on the streets for tonight, but what I really need is for you to contact the Heroes of Paris.”

Nochnoy Storozh cocked his head in confusion. “Contact the Heroes of Paris?” he repeated blankly.

“Why would we be able to do that?” asked Koldunya, blinking.

“Nochnoy Storozh told me that you’re the ‘Geroi Moskvy’, the ‘Heroes of Moscow’; doesn’t that mean you’re working with them?”

Koldunya’s jaw dropped. “We – um – no.” She glared at Nochnoy Storozh, her eyes narrowed to thin slits. Planting her hands on her hips, she shouted, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to use that name!”

“But everyone knows the Heroes of Paris!” he protested, backing away from her. “This way people would recognize us as being real heroes!”

“The way to make yourself a ‘real hero’ is to do heroic things!” she retorted heatedly. “It’s not to borrow the name of the well-known heroes!”

“But there are other ‘Heroes of’!” He began listing on his fingers. “Heroes of Lisbon, Heroes of the United Kingdom, Heroes of Panama, Heroes of–”

“And how many of them are actually working with the Heroes of Paris!?!” Koldunya shrieked, smacking him in the chest.

Claire’s eyes darted back and forth between them with growing dismay, listening to them bicker. Finally, after several minutes of arguing, she facepalmed. “So you can’t actually put me in contact with the Heroes of Paris.”

Nochnoy Storozh shrugged. “Um… not really,” he admitted. “We could probably post something on the Ladyblog, though; I’m pretty sure they check that.”

“Wait, you want to put this on the Ladyblog???” Claire’s jaw dropped. “Are you out of your mind!?!” She gave him a deadpan look. “Anyone would be able to read that! You might as well paint a target on your front door!”

Koldunya sighed, rubbing her forehead. “You’re here now; why don’t you stay with us while we figure out a plan?”

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Twenty minutes later, Mira was bouncing on the balls of her feet nervously as they waited for Max to arrive. It had taken a few minutes to explain everything to him, but finally Luka had convinced him, Marinette, and Adrien that they were the best option. While the six of them searched Moscow for Mira’s mother, Max and the others could track down the leak in the Paris postal service who had informed Lynchpin about Mira’s letters. If they were lucky, by the time Mira and the others returned, that person would be in police custody. Her lips turned down in a frown. Police custody was probably in the person’s best interests, but she would much rather if she was going to be bringing them in. After she had rescued her mother, of course.

On opposite sides of her, Rose and Juleka both wrapped an arm around her waist in a hug. “I’m sure you mom will be okay…” Rose began, though without putting much force behind her words.

“The explosion looked like it included light along with the dark,” added Juleka, resting her head on Mira’s shoulder. “That means that at least when it happened she was still fighting, right?”

Mira nodded jerkily, though the knot in her stomach remained firmly clenched. Yes, her mother had still been fighting then, but with how much time had passed since then, what could have happened after that? Could she have fought back and failed? And if that were the case, it would be all Mira’s fault! Her mother had warned her against having any contact, and she had maintained that silence until Mira broke it. Mira was the one who broke protocol first, sending letters to her mother when she was never supposed to. That means that she was the reason that the Bat had found her.

If her mother was… Her face froze in a stoic mask. She would never forgive herself if the Bat had done anything to her mother.

“Mira.” Kagami placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed firmly, meeting her gaze. “What’s done is done. All we can do now is find her and face whatever happens.”

Mira nodded. “I know. It’s just…”

“She’s your mother,” Anarka finished sympathetically.

Mira’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

Anarka wrapped her up into a hug, pulling her head down onto her shoulder, and planted a kiss in her hair. Mira sighed and allowed herself to relax marginally, placing her hands on Anarka’s back. Suddenly they were joined by all four of the others in a huge group hug. “Yer mother may be in trouble,” Anarka acknowledged. “But you’re part of my crew – part of my family – and we don’t give up on our own. And that includes yer mom.”

Mira clenched her jaw, holding back a sniffle, as the hatch opened and Max slipped into the lower deck.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” he began, transforming. “I contacted the RSA, as well as the Moscow City Police, for an update. Officially, it is an ongoing investigation. Unofficially, they are unsure what to make of it. They have no reports, either of survivors or of casualties. I told them to keep me informed of any further developments.”

“At least that’s a hopeful sign,” Luka noted.

Mira nodded and cupped her hand around Paxx, who had not left her shoulder since they arrived.

“I will put you in an alleyway two blocks south of the scene,” Pegasus informed them, opening the portal. As they went to step through, he frowned, looking at Anarka. “Are you sure you wish to–”

“I can handle this scurvy Bat just fine,” Anarka interrupted, her mouth set in a thin line.

Pegasus raised a hand in a placating gesture, reached into a pocket, and pulled out an earpiece. “Connect this to your phone so you can communicate with us.” Looking around at the rest of them, he added, “Keep me apprised of your progress. Let me know when you are ready to return.”

Leading the others through the portal, Mira looked around her at the buildings to either side, rundown and with crumbling bricks visible in the walls. The bright sun was high in the sky, though it did little for the cool wind whipping down the alleyway. She pursed her lips and consulted her phone for directions. She hardly remembered Moscow; her father and grandparents had lived here somewhere, but she had spent almost her entire life on the road with her mother. By the time her mother had retired, the strain of the mission, the absences, and the distance, had long since destroyed her parents’ relationship; her father had married and started a family of his own, without them. Her mother had not expressed any sort of bitterness about that – her own mother had suffered a similar fate with Mira’s grandfather. Being on the go for decades had rarely allowed her predecessors to settle down with a husband and family. Doubtless the same fate awaited Mira herself. But she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on such thoughts. Since accompanying her mother to Moscow the last time and receiving the miraculous from her permanently, Mira hadn’t returned, and she hadn’t looked back.

Rose grabbed her hand and squeezed it, drawing her back to the present. “We’re all right here with you.”

The apartment building was two blocks north of their location. Mira set a brisk pace, with the others following closely behind her. She shrugged her shoulder, adjusting the strap of her go-bag as she walked. As they drew closer, she could see a couple police cars sitting in front of the building, uniformed officers walking in and out of the door. Mira frowned. “How are we supposed to get past them?”

Kagami hummed contemplatively. “Do you think we can talk our way in?” she asked Mira in Russian.

Mira’s eyes widened. “Of course…” she murmured, also in Russian.

Rose cocked her head in confusion, her eyes drifting between Mira and Kagami. Next to her, Juleka wore a similar expression. Luka furrowed his brows, nodding slowly in realization.

“Just follow our lead,” Kagami instructed Rose and Juleka in French, grinning. “And don’t say a word – just nod if it looks like they’re addressing you.”

Luka coughed and glanced at Anarka. “We should stay out here to keep a lookout,” he decided, pausing with her on the street corner opposite the apartment building, staying in the shadow of another building.

Without slowing down, Mira marched straight across the street and up to the police officer, Kagami right next to her, with Juleka and Rose following behind them.

“Can I help you?” the officer asked, examining them carefully, his arms folded.

“Ivana Bolshoi,” Mira introduced herself, “crime scene tech. We’re here to take some new samples.”

He frowned. “They didn’t say they were sending anyone else. Can I see some identification?”

Mira scoffed and turned to Kagami. “‘Can I see some identification?’”

Kagami rolled her eyes. “Just like Boris to forget to call,” she huffed. Reaching into her purse she pulled out her wallet and flipped it open, flicking it closed a moment later. “There. Happy?”

“Um… I–”

“They won’t be too happy at headquarters if we don’t report back with these fresh samples quickly enough,” Mira interjected, cutting him off abruptly. “You know how Pasha can get when reports are late.”

“Didn’t he threaten someone with an extended vacation in Siberia last week?” asked Kagami, raising an eyebrow and letting her gaze linger on the police officer. “I hear the social scene is… wanting… there.”

Mira hummed, leaning in closer to the officer. “Just to be sure, your surname is spelled with two r’s, right?”

The officer furrowed his brows and shrugged, stepping out of their way. “Fine. You’re okay.”

Quickly, before he could change his mind, Mira pushed past him with Kagami, quirking an eyebrow at Rose and Juleka to follow. They strode into the apartment building and took the stairs up to the apartment in question, passing a couple other police officers as they ascended. As she walked, however, Mira’s steps slowed. She was now only a few apartments away from where her mother had lived, from where she had been attacked. What would she find there? Evidence of a struggle? Evidence of… worse? Rose’s hand on her arm startled her, and she almost jumped out of her skin.

“We need to look around first,” Juleka pointed out quietly, putting a hand on Mira’s other arm. “Do you want to stay out here while we check inside?”

Mira shook her head numbly at the apartment door. “No. I–I need to see for myself.”

Almost everything inside the apartment had been destroyed. The dining room table had been turned to kindling, the chairs around it only recognizable by the smooth sides of the pieces. The stove had caved in; the refrigerator door had been blown off its hinges and hung open, the food inside starting to spoil. An entire cabinet had collapsed, spilling plates and bowls all across the counter. From inside, the caved-out corner looked even more impressive, bits of shattered building material sticking out in all directions.

“Your mom put up a hell of a fight,” Kagami observed slowly, scanning the wreckage with a practiced eye.

“Where do you think I learned to fight?” Mira replied rhetorically. A scrap of paper on the ground near the opening drew her attention. Picking it up, she froze. Staring back at her was herself, almost fifteen years ago, standing on the bank of the Nile with her mother on one of their trips through North Africa. She was wearing a bathing suit, her tongue sticking out, a joyful look on her face, with her mother’s arms wrapped tightly around her.

“You made a cute child,” Rose cooed, examining the picture over her shoulder.

“I didn’t realize Mom had kept this,” whispered Mira, holding back a sob. Her mother had said that she would have to cut all ties to her once she retired, that she couldn’t know any details about Mira’s life, and that she couldn’t even keep mementos of Mira around, lest the Bat found her and tried to use her against Mira.

Like what was happening right now.

Rose wrapped an arm around Mira and gave her a loose hug. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone,” she assured her.

Mira set her mouth in a thin line. “Spread out,” she told the other three, tucking the picture into her purse next to Paxx.

“What are we looking for?” asked Juleka, moving into the living room and picking around in the pile of debris from what had been a television, pushing broken pieces to the side with her shoe.

“Anything unusual,” Kagami supplied, giving Mira an evaluating look.

Mira nodded and knelt in the kitchen, beside the sink. Every lesson her mother had taught her began to come back. How to escape, how to hide, how to track… everything she had learned had been for the purpose of getting to the Bat before he could get to her. Everything she had learned had been focused on working alone: how to avoid attachments, how to put the mission ahead of everything else. And those lessons had proven useful. They had kept both her and her mother alive for years. But now…

It was almost thirty minutes later when Mira finally gave up and crossed back to the front door, where the others soon joined her.

Rose folded her arms in frustration. “I didn’t find anything.” She gave Mira a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

Mira shook her head in acknowledgement as Juleka and Kagami echoed Rose’s sentiment. “It’s not your fault; we all looked as hard as we could. But we’re not done yet. There’s something about this scene,” she insisted. “Something doesn’t quite add up.”

Rose hummed. “If we haven’t found any evidence of a body, then that has to mean that she’s okay, right?”

Mira pursed her lips. She wanted to grasp that hope, but… “No… the Bat has the ability – with enough power – to disintegrate something. But…” She looked around more closely, opening the closet door beside the refrigerator. “There is something missing! Mom’s go-bag!”

Kagami cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Mom always insisted on keeping a packed ‘go-bag’ close by just in case she needed to escape,” she explained, patting the one on her back for emphasis. “That was one of my first lessons: how to carry it, and how to pack it.”

“Could it have been destroyed by the Bat, too?” asked Jukela.

Mira shook her head. “No,” she replied adamantly. “He doesn’t know anything about it.”

“So if her bag is missing, that must mean she’s alive out there!” Rose clapped excitedly.

Mira nodded slowly. “Or at least that’s a possibility still. But where?”

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Ignoring the chipped brickwork and piles of glass shards on the ground outside, Night Bat pushed open the battered, rickety old door to the bar. Whatever name had originally been painted on the door had long since worn away with age; the lettering of the current name, “Krysinoye Logovo,” had peeled so much that it was barely legible. Night Bat waved away the acrid cigarette smoke that hung in the air. Behind him, the Bearator had to stoop to get through the low doorway. He put a hand over his mouth and coughed wetly. Night Bat scanned the bar quickly. Even the last time he had been here, the bar had been in poor quality – today was no different. The same bar stools sat in front of the same bar counter, with the only “update” being a new group of stains and nicks covering up the old ones. Idly Night Bat wondered if the bloodstain was still there.

“This place is a dump,” the Bearator complained, wrinkling up his nose in disgust as he looked around the room. “It can’t be sanitary.”

“Alcohol kills the germs,” a gruff voice called out from behind the bar.

“That’s not all it kills,” muttered the Bearator as he examined a worn corner table.

“If you wanted clean, you’d have gone to Zimneye Pivo down the street,” the same voice observed. “If you’re here, you want something else.”

Night Bat raised an eyebrow in amusement and rested his elbow on the counter, examining the wizened old bartender carefully. An older man with a deeply-lined face and short-cut white hair, the bartender still bore a long scar from his cheek all the way down to his collarbone. Several thin white lines crisscrossed his neck. The bottom edge of a tattoo peeked out from under his short sleeved shirt, a rougher tattoo on his neck plainly visible. He stared back at them, his eyes narrowed, sizing them up.

“Now what can I get for you two?” the bartender asked, setting down his cleaning cloth and placing both hands on the counter in front of him.

“‘Krov’ i slezy’,” Night Bat responded, watching the bartender for his reaction. [“Blood and tears”]

The man leaned back, his eyes widening slightly. “As I live and breathe…” He stared hard at Night Bat, a flicker of recognition dancing across his face. Eventually he chuckled, shaking his head. “Haven’t heard that phrase in decades. The man who said it that time is dead now. Can’t say what happened to the others who knew it.”

“The man who said it this time is looking for information, Serp,” Night Bat told him, turning full-one to face him in front of the bar counter. The decades had not treated him kindly. A trace of rheum clouded his eyes. However the flicker of recognition returned as he studied Night Bat’s face.

“Ivan?” The bartender’s eyes widened. “Only one man ever knew me by that name…”

“The same.” Night Bat frowned, examining Serp carefully. Old friend though he was, there was no guarantee that he would be any more help than anyone else. And there was the distinct possibility that Serp could prove to be a liability, stuck as they were in a foreign country.

“I haven’t seen you since Kabul,” Serp told him, shaking his head, “and you walk into my bar as though nothing’s different – and you hardly look like you’ve aged a day…” He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “So how the hell are you? And how the hell are you looking so good after 40 years?”

“I need some information,” Night Bat repeated, his mouth set in a thin line.

“About the mission? I don’t know what to tell you,” Serp replied, shrugging. “That last mission just went completely backwards. I still have no idea how it happened. Molot went into the camp, and the camp erupted in fighting, but he never came out. In the end I just had sneak in using his distraction and eliminate the general myself before making an escape back to base. I looked for you afterward, but you were already gone.”

“I had other missions to attend,” Night Bat told him. “And you need not worry yourself about your partner’s fate. Molot carried out his part in the plan to perfection. He died in the line of duty, but nonetheless he completed his mission. As did you, as I understood it.” Night Bat allowed himself a small smile: Molot’s death had been as pointless as the war, but his “mission” had made the entire experience of working with the Soviets worth it. His attack on that compound had spread the effects of the Kiss to everyone in the Mujahedeen camp, where it had only taken a couple days before it expanded through the entire Mujahedeen like lightning.

“That’s good to hear, at least.” Serp sat down on his side of the bar and picked up a glass to polish. “Heard from any of the others, then?”

Night Bat shook his head, careful not to snort in disdain. “I have not seen any of your team since that operation. Nor have I had any need or desire for it.”

Serp raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “You aren’t one for nostalgia, I suppose,” he mused. “Then you didn’t come for information about my late partner. So…” He fixed Night Bat with a penetrating gaze. “What did you come for after all this time?”

Night Bat stared right back into his face. “Olivet.”

Serp cocked his head in confusion. “What, you mean that CIA operative you had us looking out for all the time? Never saw any indicator she was even in Afghanistan.”

Night Bat shook his head. “Not in Afghanistan. Here. She’s in Moscow.”

“Shouldn’t she be retired by now like the rest of us?”

“No.” Night Bat’s mouth set in a thin line. “She is back in the game.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t know anything about it. I’ve been out of it for so long, I don’t really have the contacts I used to.”

Night Bat gave him a dubious look. “You and I both know that’s never fully the case.”

Serp frowned, stroking his chin in thought. “You might try near the American embassy. Word on the street is that their legal attaché is the CIA station chief, though last I heard he was an older career diplomat, and not a woman.”

“She wouldn’t be with the Americans,” Night Bat told him, shaking his head. “But if there are any superhumans around…”

Serp shrugged. “There haven’t been any official superhumans since the KGB disbanded the Krasnyye Voiny.” [“Red Warriors”]

Night Bat scoffed. “You know as we as I do that these self-proclaimed ‘superheroes’ have been appearing all over – without any official recognition.”

Serp nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it sounds like Moscow has its own batch of superheroes now. Couple weeks ago, one of my regulars got roughed up by some guy who said he was part of a group called the ‘Geroi Moskvy.’ My guy was trying to make an ‘afterhours withdrawal’ from the bank when this ‘superhero’ jumped him. Funny thing is, supposedly the super was carrying a big hammer; my first thought was that Molot was back.”

Night Bat shook his head. “No. Couldn’t be him. This must be someone else entirely.”

Serp hummed. “Well, if you’re looking for your Olivet to be with some local superheroes, these Geroi Moskvy are probably your best bet,” he suggested.

“Do you have any idea where to find them?”

“What do you take me for?” demanded Serp, raising an eyebrow. “After the Krasnyye Voiny split up and the Party fell, I made myself scarce. This new crop… after everything I did for the old guard, I’m not sure the new guard would be too happy with me. And that goes double for anyone claiming to be a ‘superhero’ in this new Moscow.”

Night Bat gave him a severe look. “Surely a man of your… considerable talents can find a way to learn where a group of superheroes holds their meetings.”

Serp’s eyes widened. “Afghanistan was one thing,” he replied. “But this is something completely different. And I don’t have a death wish.”

Night Bat leaned closer and examined him carefully, focusing especially on his eyes and mouth. Where Molot had been headstrong and reckless, Serp had been careful and cunning, preferring to think his way through problems rather than charging headlong into danger. “Very well,” Night Bat acceded. “So you have no leads for us?”

Serp hummed. “Other than the Geroi Moskvy, I can’t help you. Wish I could do more.”

Night Bat frowned. “If that is the case, then we must be going.”

“Not going to stay for a drink?”

Night Bat shook his head. “No.”

“What about for your young friend?”

The Bearator perked up. “I’ll have a–”

“None for him, either,” interrupted Night Bat. “We must move on.”

Serp shrugged. “Come back any time and I’ll treat you to some of the good vodka.”

As they left, the Bearator hustled to keep up with Night Bat. “I was only going to ask for water…”

Night Bat raised an eyebrow dubiously.

The Bearator cringed. “What was that all about?” he asked. “Who was he?”

“An old friend.” Serp and Molot had made for a competent and effective team during the Cold War, ideally suited for his purposes. He had only been in Afghanistan for a few days during the war, and then only to check on the progress of the conflict. After World War II he had decided to avoid getting dragged down into the wars of the great powers – they were always so unpredictable and left him far too exposed. Instead, he had dropped in here and there, always staying a few steps ahead of the Doves – Columba and then Olivet before this Hato Gozen – spreading out his Kisses to foment rebellions, galvanize oppositions, even lend fuel to epidemics. The Cold War had been a hotbed of mistrust and anger, ripe for the picking and child’s play for him to manipulate to his own ends. And between Afghanistan and Vietnam, there had been more than enough opportunities for him to benefit from sowing a little more discord into the general confusion. That had been his first meeting with the Krasnyye Voiny, who had been dispatched to Afghanistan to sow mistrust and wage a fear campaign against the rebels. The Krasnyye Voiny had been little more than a gang of brutes, brought together by the KGB for a small number of dangerous missions. Two members had killed each other before their first mission had even started; with a small nudge from Night Bat, they had completed every subsequent mission with brutal efficiency. But that had drawn Olivet’s attention. After the Krasnyye Voiny’s last mission, Night Bat had vanished into the night without a trace, narrowly avoiding a confrontation with Olivet.

As they emerged out of the bar and into the bright sunlight, Night Bat was surprised to find the Deacon there, leaning against the rented SUV, arms folded in a play on casualness. He raised an eyebrow dubiously on seeing the Bearator. “Following your ‘boss’ around? Too scared to try going off on your own to look for clues?”

The Bearator folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. “As opposed to you, running off and getting yourself into trouble?”

“At least I found something.”

“We did, too.”

“‘We’.”

Night Bat rubbed his forehead. “Enough. What did you find?”

“Someone saw a woman with wings land on a rooftop a few blocks from the explosion, not too long after it happened,” the Deacon reported.

“Is that all you found?” demanded Night Bat. “I could have told you she flew away.” He groaned. “Inform Cerna and tell her to search that area.”

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“I say we just find wherever this Bat-hole is hiding and ask really nicely for him to please stop.”

“You want to ask him nicely?” Claire stared at Svyatogor in bewilderment. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“With my fists!” he replied, cracking his knuckles. He grinned and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “It’s worked for me every time so far.”

Claire rubbed her temples and gave Koldunya a disbelieving look. Since arriving at the Geroi Moskvy’s headquarters, she had spent the last 18 hours trying to figure out what to do about the Bat, and this was the best they could come up with. She had to stay ahead of the Bat, and she had to keep Mira safe. If she could have just called Mira, it would have been so much simpler. But her emergency phone had been destroyed in the fight, and she couldn’t risk calling Mira from someone else’s phone. “Are you crazy?” she demanded.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Nochnoy Storozh admitted. “As long as we can catch him by surprise, we at least have the numbers on our side.”

“This is a miraculous user with a millennium of experience and magic on his side,” Claire reminded him. “And my magic isn’t strong enough to match him since giving up my miraculous.”

“But with two magic users on our side – and without him knowing about Koldunya – we might still have a chance,” argued Nochnoy Storozh, raising an eyebrow. “And Svyatogor and I aren’t exactly useless in a fight.”

Koldunya frowned, her brows furrowed in thought. “The biggest problem is that we don’t know where he is,” she mused. “If we knew that much, we might be able to come up with a plan.”

Claire stared at Koldunya in disbelief. If even she was buying into this suggestion that they fight Night Bat head-on… “I’m telling you, he’s too strong. The only reason I survived last time is because he didn’t realize I still had my magic!”

Svyatogor fixed her with a serious look. “And I’m telling you that we don’t care. The reason we became heroes is to stop bad guys like him. He may be strong, but we can still fight him.”

Koldunya nodded. “I understand your concern,” she assured Claire. “But we understand the risk. If this is what it takes, then we are ready.”

“Do you have a better idea?” asked Nochnoy Storozh, raising an eyebrow. “Because last night it didn’t exactly sound like it.”

Claire hummed contemplatively. “What are the chances of getting out of the country?” she suggested. “That’s what I was going to do in the first place. If I can get out of Moscow, I could cross the border to Finland and make my way from there to Paris.”

“Wouldn’t that just bring the Bat straight to your daughter, though?” Koldunya worried.

Claire sighed in frustration, frowning. “He already knows she’s in Paris, but I can’t risk him finding out anything more – about her, about me, or even about the Heroes of Paris,” she acceded. “But if I can just get in contact with the Heroes of Paris, maybe we would be able to figure something out.”

“It’s not like we don’t want to contact them,” Nochnoy Storozh replied. “But like you said last night, if we tell them you’re here through the Ladyblog, the Bat knows it, too.”

“So why not put a note on the Ladyblog about us, and let them contact us?” Svyatogor suggested, raising an eyebrow. “No reason we’d have to bring up Olivet online if we’re just letting them know we exist. The other hero groups must have contacted them somehow, right?”

Koldunya blinked, her jaw dropping in shock. “That’s… why didn’t we think of that sooner?” she wondered. Quickly she pulled out her phone and started skimming through it.

“That could still be painting a target on your backs, though,” Claire warned. “The Bat knows I’m in Moscow; if he knows about you, then he could put the pieces together.”

“Well, if we can help you get in contact with your daughter, it’s worth it,” Nochnoy Storozh assured her. Koldunya nodded.

Claire let out a breath. “Thank y–”

Svyatogor started, staring at the door. “What–”

SMASH!

The doorway to their headquarters blew inward with the force of a small explosion, letting in the dim evening light. A young man in a dark brown miraculous suit stood framed in the doorway, his hand claws held in front of himself. Svyatogor jumped to his feet first, followed by Nochnoy Storozh, who grabbed his war hammer from where he had rested it against the table while they brainstormed, clenching it tightly in both hands.

“Apara!” Claire shouted, waving her hand toward the doorway. White light emanated from her fingertips and coalesced together into a shimmering barrier between the new enemy and them inside the room. Koldunya sprang up and rapped her staff on the ground. The destroyed pieces of the door on the other side of the light-barrier shuddered under her influence and flung themselves at the miraculous user, transmuting into wasps in midair. The miraculous user dove backward out of the doorway, and Claire quickly pushed her barrier out further until it completely covered the opening and extended outside the room.

“Who the hell is that?” demanded Nochnoy Storozh, tensing next to Svyatogor between the conference table and the doorway, his grip on his hammer tightening.

Koldunya opened her mouth to answer, but Claire’s gasp cut her off. Something pressed against her light energy. Blackness appeared from a point near the center of her barrier, a single pinprick of shadow that showed up for a moment but disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. Suddenly the darkness returned, slamming straight into her protective ward and overwhelming it. Feeling her shield weakening, Claire tried to push more energy into the barrier, but not enough. The barrier flickered out, and the miraculous user returned, followed by two people in dark robes. Then the Bat entered.

“Olivet: we meet again,” the Bat greeted her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Clearly I need to find stronger doors,” she replied evenly, clenching her fist at her side, her magic hovering just below the surface, waiting for her to release it. Examining the others in the room, she frowned. Mira’s last letter had described the group that called themselves the “Dark Acolytes of the Mundane” and hated miraculous users, though Claire had never looked to meet them. The closest Dark Acolyte stared at Claire, her eyes narrowed, sizing her up. The other examined Nochnoy Storozh and Svyatogor, his staff held in on hand along his shoulders.

“You are not welcome here,” declared Nochnoy Storozh, raising his hammer threateningly.

“Want me to deal with him, boss?” asked the miraculous user, eyeing Nochnoy Storozh predatorily.

“Perhaps, Bearator,” mused the Bat, stroking his chin.

Koldunya swung her staff around and swept everything off the table, throwing it at the Bat and the Bearator. The Bat, however, raised a black shield between himself and the heroes, blocking the projectiles. Plates scattered across the floor, and Koldunya sent a tremor through them, grinding them to powder that clung together into marble-sized balls.

Nochnoy Storozh leapt forward and swung his hammer at the Bearator and one of the Dark Acolytes with a yell. The Acolyte, however, ducked beneath his attack and dealt him a swift punch in the gut. The Bearator stabbed at Nochnoy Storozh with one of his hand claws, and Nochnoy Storozh jumped backward with moments to spare, sweeping his hammer in front of himself to hold them at bay.

Svyatogor stepped into the space vacated by Nochnoy Storozh, baring his teeth, and flexed his arms. “We’ll take them together,” he shouted to Nochnoy Storozh, leveling a punch at the Bearator.

“Your funeral,” scoffed the Bearator jabbing Svyatogor with his hand claw. Svyatogor sidestepped to avoid the jab and grabbed the Bearator’s hand, squeezing tightly. The Bearator furrowed his brows at him in surprise. He looked over at the Acolyte. “Deacon, you think…?”

The Deacon flicked wads of something at both Nochnoy Storozh and Svyatogor, which clung to their clothing. Svyatogor looked down at it in confusion and punched the Bearator in the face. The Bearator leaned back to evade and pulled his hand out of Svyatogor’s grip. “Not miraculous,” the Deacon ground out, batting aside Nochnoy Storozh’s hammer with his staff and aiming a kick at his side. Nochnoy Storozh blocked the kick with the butt of his hammer, in the same motion sweeping the Deacon’s legs out from under him.

Claire threw a blast of light energy at the Bat and the other Acolyte, which the Bat blocked and the Acolyte evaded, landing in front of Koldunya and kicking her in the gut. Koldunya gasped and fell to one knee glaring up into the Acolyte’s face as she leveled her staff at her. “Lumina!” Claire shouted, sending another light beam at the Acolyte, just as Koldunya scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it into the ground, plunging the area around her into darkness.

Two more people entered the room, one of whom was clearly using another miraculous, and Claire’s eyes widened. The Bat had obviously called in reinforcements, and the Geroi Moskvy were outnumbered. The Deacon got his staff inside Nochnoy Storozh’s guard and boxed his ears, sending him reeling back. He was about to follow up the attack when Svyatogor grabbed his staff and wrenched it from his hands, taking a slash to his arm from the Bearator as punishment for his distraction, the red blood mingling with the red of his jacket. There was no way her allies could stand a chance here.

“Fall back!” Claire shouted to the others, raising a small shield at an angle in front of herself to block a gust of wind from the Bat. “Retreat!”

“What about you!?” demanded Koldunya, backing toward the far side of the room as the other Acolyte pursued her.

“I’ll hold them back!” Claire called, sending a column of wind at the Acolyte’s feet. The Acolyte jumped to avoid it, springing back as Koldunya sent the computer hurtling across the room at her, almost colliding with Nochnoy Storozh from behind. Claire threw a shield between the Acolyte and Nochnoy Storozh. “It’s me they want!”

“No!” Nochnoy Storozh retorted, aiming a kick at the Acolyte. “We can’t just abandon you!”

“I’ll stay with her!” Svyatogor told him, pushing him toward Koldunya and swinging his stolen staff at the Bearator, who sliced clean through it with his claws. “We’ll catch up with you!”

Nochnoy Storozh let out a frustrated groan and started back toward him, but Koldunya grabbed his shoulder to restrain him and pulled him back away from the fight and through a hidden doorway in the far wall. “We need to move!” she shouted in his ear.

Svyatogor clenched his fists around what was left of the staff. “Who’s first!” he shouted, dropping into a fighting stance, his eyes darting back and forth between the Deacon and the Bearator. The Bearator feinted toward him and he shifted his foot back just as the Deacon lunged, tackling him around the waist. Svyatogor stumbled backward and grabbed the back of the Deacon’s robes, hauling him up off the ground.

Claire ducked under a dark magic disk that spun across the room and embedded into the wall, and sent an energy pulse at the other miraculous user, raising a ward to separate herself and the Bat. The miraculous user back-flipped out of the way as the Bat threw another wave of energy at Claire. Claire narrowed her ward into a prow-shape as the energy broke to either side of it and punched, driving the ward straight at the Bat, who flicked his wrist and waved it away. Claire backed away without taking her eyes off of his face.

Nochnoy Storozh and Koldunya must have gotten far enough away by now.

“Time to move!” she shouted to Svyatogor, who nodded without looking away from the Bearator. Claire’s foot caught on something and she fell onto her back, hitting her shoulder on the hard floor. One of the Dark Acolytes stood over her, a sneer on his face. He raised his staff to bring down into her gut. She held up her hand, calling on what she had left of her magic. Svyatogor hurled the staff piece in his hand at the Acolyte, striking him on the shoulder. He flinched, and Claire rolled to her feet, widening the space between her and the Acolyte.

Svyatogor turned back toward the Bearator, driving a punch at his face. The Bearator grinned maliciously and ducked, allowing Svyatogor’s fist to sail harmlessly over his shoulder. Svyatogor lurched forward, and the Deacon swept his feet out from under him. Off balance, Svyatogor stumbled into the Bearator, who punched him once in the gut with one of his hand claws. Svyatogor grunted in shock, his eyes wide, as the Bearator pushed him over onto his back. Blood spurted from three wounds in his stomach. He blinked weakly, his eyes clouding over. The Bearator planted his foot on Svyatogor’s chest and pressed down. Svyatogor’s mouth worked feebly as he let out a last, weak breath.

Claire gasped in shock, staring at Svyatogor, and at the two villains stepping over his body toward her. Wrenching her eyes away from the sight, she looked around at the Bat and his five allies, cutting her off from Svyatogor’s body and standing between her and the open doorway. She could do nothing for Svyatogor now. He had sacrificed himself to help her. All she could do was honor his sacrifice by surviving. Resigned, she clapped her hands and shouted, “Orbire!” Brilliant light engulfed the room, and she sprinted out the door, the Bat hot on her heels.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Night Bat sprinted up the stairs hot on Olivet’s heels. She had always favored these kinds of attacks – blinding her opponents and escaping from them – but they could not work for her forever. After his centuries of constant battles against the Doves, Night Bat had learned to recognize and anticipate anything they might try; simply hearing the first syllable of her attack, he had clenched his eyes shut and shielded his eyes to avoid being blinded. The moment the light died away he had watched her attempt to flee. But after all of this time and effort, he would not allow her to get far.

Reaching the alleyway beyond, Olivet shouted, “Lumina,” and sent a pointed blast of light behind her down the stairs at Night Bat. Night Bat pressed himself against the side of the stairwell and the light beam smashed the landing behind him, gouging a deep crater in the cement and showering the area with debris. A shout echoed up from the room below, but Night Bat paid it no mind. Drawing his sword, Night Bat leapt from the stairwell to the ground level, cutting her lead down to almost nothing, and brought the blade down in a slash at Olivet’s head. Spinning around, she held up her arm and called, “Scut!” A glowing white disk appeared along her forearm, catching his sword and deflecting it away to one side. Slipping the sword blade down off the edge of the shield, he tried to bring it in under her guard, but she slid the shield around her arm in that direction, blocking his sword but exposing her chest. As she tried to follow up with a punch, Night Bat leaned to one side, drew his foot back, and drove it into her stomach, launching her into the air. “Aripi!” she cried, eyes widening in surprise, even as her feet left the ground.

Night Bat swiped wildly at her with his sword, but missed when wings erupted from her shoulder blades and pumped, propelling her up and away from him. She glared down at him with hatred, hovering less than a meter out of his reach, the disk-shield vanishing as she reabsorbed its energy. His eyes shifted to black and his grip on the sword tightened. “Uragan!” Wind built around his feet, launching him up into the air, held aloft by the cyclone surrounding him. Olivet’s jaw clenched as she pushed herself higher, keeping herself out of his way, even as the windstorm drove him higher into the air, above the level of the buildings around them. “You must be tiring, Olivet!” he taunted, not taking his eyes off of her face and the lines of strain marking her mouth and eyes. He pushed himself higher, until he hovered just above the roofs of the buildings to either side of the alley in which they were fighting.

“Ferastrau lumina!” Olivet swung her arm around and hurled a spinning disk of light at the ground immediately behind his wind column, slicing through it and dissipating the wind keeping him aloft.

Night Bat sprang off of the rapidly-disappearing tornado and landed on the building’s roof, rolling to his feet and spinning around just in time to raise a shield in front of himself and block the light-spear Olivet had thrown at him. His eyes shifted to black, and he absorbed the light energy into his shield as it connected, drawing back his sword as he did so before thrusting it toward her. “Ricosa!” A massive blast of dark magic erupted from the tip of his sword, forming into a tight column with a sharp tip on the end. Olivet spun to one side to evade it, but the leading edge of the blast cut of several of her pinions and she hissed, dropping three meters before she finally caught herself.

Night Bat clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Is this truly the best you can do, Olivet?” he demanded, dropping his shield and holding his sword with one hand on the handle and the other at the tip. “And to think that I once considered you a threat…”

Her mouth set in a thin line, her eyes glowing white. “Say whatever you wish,” she answered him. “But you shouldn’t be worried about me as much as about my daughter.”

“Oh, I am not worried about you, my dear.” He examined her for signs of weakness, taking in the sagging of her shoulders, the way that her wings did not pump as strongly as they had. “You are only one piece of the puzzle. You are simply a means to resolve the nuisance that is your daughter. Although I admit, I am impressed you even have any power without your miraculous, though it will do you no good.”

“After centuries, you think you understand the Doves?” she retorted, nimbly hovering just outside his reach.

“At the moment, they are not that difficult to understand,” he replied evenly, his voice dropping. “Take your mother: Columba’s utter failure at Versailles handed me an entire century! Or at least the first half of one,” he amended, eyeing her carefully for a reaction. “You handed me the second half.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Afghanistan?”

Her eyes flashed with rage. “You would lay that debacle on me!?”

“You did fail to prevent it,” he pointed out softly, twirling his sword. “And you were unable to stop it.”

“You took advantage of my inexperience!” she retorted hotly. “You knew–”

“Of course I knew Columba had retired,” he scoffed. “And of course I took advantage; as if I would do otherwise! Without fail I have tested each new Dove and studied how she reacts. Consequently, that was your test, and you failed.” He leered up at her. “But your mother’s failures with World War I, World War II, and the start of the Cold War were nothing to do with inexperience. And your daughter’s continuing failures in Paris? Those are entirely on you: you failed to train your whelp well enough.”

Olivet snarled at him, a look of rage twisting up her face. “My daughter is the best of all of us!” she declared.

Night Bat’s grin turned malicious. “I do believe that may well be the case,” he goaded her. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And what does it say about you and all your predecessors that the ‘best Dove of all’ is such a miserable failure?”

Olivet growled and dropped to the roof, furling her wings behind her back. Her fist glowed white as she punched out at him, sending a pulse of white energy in his direction. Night Bat leaned to one side, allowing it to pass harmlessly. She punched again, this time a concussive force that he likewise dodged.

“I take it that I struck a nerve, my dear?” he taunted, kicking her in the gut, swinging his sword at her head. She leaned back, narrowly avoiding decapitation. “All the more failure on your part.” He strode forward, and she backed away. “Russia. Afghanistan. Lebanon. Brazil. Mexico… And those are only the times that I outsmarted you.” He leered at her, slashing with his sword. Finding herself on the edge of the roof, she summoned a shield to block his blade, faltering under the force of the blow. “What about all the other times, when you didn’t even know where I was? What about all the people who died because of you? Like your friend in there?”

“You are a murderer and a monster,” she hissed, pushing off into the air and kicking him in the chest. “Your friends killed Svyatogor, and for what? Because they helped me?”

He grinned at her in amusement. “That is the fate of everyone who stands in my way. Why should these so-called heroes be any different?” Olivet growled. “I supposed that is yet another instance of blood that is on your hands,” he mused. “After all, if he hadn’t tried to help you, he would still be alive.  And what does it say that every death in the last fifty years has been because of your failure? And now, once I capture you, it will be over. I will kill your daughter, and then I will kill you. So when she dies–”

Olivet let out a shriek of rage and threw her arms out wide. Her eyes glowed brilliant white, and air built up around her, blowing her hair in all directions. Night Bat’s eyes widened in shock: this was a new effect. Olivet clapped her hands together, sending a blast of white energy straight up into the sky. “Disparea!” she screamed. A shockwave emanated from her, and Night Bat covered his eyes to shield himself from the blinding light. But when Night Bat looked back, she had vanished.

He stood in the same place, staring at the spot where she had vanished, for several minutes. In all his centuries of playing this cat-and-mouse game with the Doves, he had never heard that spell before. He had never seen one produce this effect before, either, for that matter. And yet, Olivet had once more evaded him. Finally he blinked and shook his head, hopping off the roof to land on the ground.

The Prior climbed out of the basement, looking around in distaste, as the other four followed. “All of this to fight four people with no miraculous,” he mused, arching an eyebrow at Night Bat meaningfully. “Now where is the former miraculous abuser?”

Night Bat’s mouth set in a thin line. “Not here.”

“You mean she got away!?”

Night Bat gave him a deadpan look. “We will find her again.”

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

“So we know she’s still alive, and we know she has her go-bag.”

Mira nodded slowly, hugging her legs and staring down at the grass of the small park in which they had stopped to rest. It was only a few blocks from her mother’s apartment building; might she have come here to walk when the weather was nice? Mira could remember when she was younger and her mother would sometimes pack them a lunch to go to the park. While Mira played in the playground, her mother either sat on a bench reading or else walked around the park’s perimeter. Even if the reason had been to search for the Bat’s latest victim, Mira still cherished those outings, the times when she could imagine being normal.

“That still isn’t all that much to go on,” Luka pointed out, putting a hand on Kagami’s knee. “If only we had some idea of where she might have gone.”

“Well,” Rose suggested hopefully, “if we can’t figure out where she went – and we have you on our side–” she nodded to Mira “–then maybe that means that Night Bat can’t find her, either. After all, if anyone would be able to track a Dove, it’s another dove, right?”

Mira shrugged. “I mean… Mom taught me how to hide; she didn’t really teach me how to find her.”

Anarka hummed. “Yer mom certainly knows how to stay off the radar,” she noted. Selecting a pirozhok out of the bag they had bought for an afternoon snack at a shop down the street, she passed the bag to Mira.

Mira raised an eyebrow. “That’s how we stayed alive for so long: Mom knew how to avoid detection.” She looked down at that bag of snacks and frowned. Her breakfast was hours ago, but her stomach had been in turmoil ever since the morning, and she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything. Finally, she held the bag out to Kagami. Paxx, sitting in the grass in front of Mira, cleared her throat expectantly, and Mira took a couple pirozhki and broke them into smaller pieces for Paxx and the other Kwamis to share.

“You haven’t eaten anything all day,” Anarka fussed, giving Mira a severe look. “If you’re going to help your mother, you can’t be passing out from hunger.”

Mira groaned in annoyance, grabbed a piece of a fruit-filled pirozhok, and shoved it into her mouth. As she swallowed, her stomach rumbled and she took a whole pirozhok to eat a little more slowly. Anarka gave her a meaningful look, and Mira flushed, nodding.

Rose wrapped her arm around Mira’s shoulders from one side, as Juleka did the same on the other side. “We’re not going to give up,” Rose promised.

Mira sighed, embracing both of them back. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I just… Mom took the secrecy and hiding to such an extreme – I don’t know how we can track her down!”

Luka frowned. “There really wasn’t anything in the apartment? Nothing to hint at a contingency plan or anything?”

Mira shook her head.

“We found a picture of baby Mira,” Kagami answered. “But that’s it.”

“Did you keep it?” asked Anarka. Wordlessly, Mira withdrew the picture from her purse and passed it to her. “Aww… you made an adorable baby,” Anarka told her, smiling gently and handing it back.

“Would she have anything else important?” Luka wondered. “Anything significant to her or to you?”

Mira furrowed her brows in thought. “There are a few things…” she began. “Important documents from previous Doves, collected over the centuries. Mom would have hidden them somewhere in Moscow after giving me the miraculous.”

“Do you know where?” prompted Kagami.

Mira shook her head. “Mom never told me where she hid it. It wasn’t time yet – not until I’m close to retiring.” Luka cocked his head in confusion. “Oh, none of it is absolutely vital,” she explained quickly. “Journals and the like. It’s actually gotten lost once or twice – when she couldn’t find it, the next Dove just restarted the collection.” She looked down at the grass. Her mother had occasionally told her stories about Columba, about Tomoe Gozen, about all the previous Doves – stories that were written in that book. But now–

“You will get it back,” Rose assured her.

“I hope so…”

“So what all would she keep in her bag?” asked Juleka, watching Mira carefully.

Mira hummed, staring down at her own go-bag, sitting in the grass between her legs. “A change of clothing, toiletries, a burner cell phone, cash – rubles, Euros, dollars, and pounds. Fake travel documents – when they started getting stricter about travel, grandmother and mother started carrying at least two sets of documents. I have four,” she added as an afterthought.

Juleka pursed her lips. “So everything she would need to disappear.”

“‘Travel documents’?” Luka repeated thoughtfully, looking down at Sass. “She could have left the country, then.”

“That doesss sssound like a posssibility,” agreed Sass, bobbing his head.

Longg nodded. “It is what I would do under the circumstances.”

Kagami frowned. “But the question then becomes, where would she go? Paris, since that’s where you are?”

“I–I don’t know.” Mira sniffed. “But not Paris – probably. When she gave me the miraculous permanently, that was supposed to be the last time we ever saw each other–”

“What, never?” Anarka stared at her bewildered. “Yer mom gave you up? Just like that?”

“If we see each other too much – if I came back here too often, or if she came to wherever I was – the Bat could find Mom and try to use her against me,” Mira explained. “This is the first time I’ve even included my current location in a letter to her; before now I’ve only ever let her know when I left a location.”

“I’m guessing this is also the first time it’s really been safe to include that kind of information,” Kagami pointed out. “In Paris you have a team to back you up and Night Bat already knows, so it’s isn’t giving him any new information to use against you.”

Mira nodded. “That was my thinking, too.” She chuckled humorlessly. “If it weren’t for you guys, I never would have told her… and I never would have written to her, either.”

Luka frowned. “I’m sorry that led him to her,” he apologized. “But what happened is over. And after this, I think the time for those precautions is past. Whatever happens now, I don’t think you or your mother will really be safe on your own.”

“I concur,” Sass interjected.

“You’re a lot better off with the rest of us around to beat on the Bat if he tries anything… batty!” added Roaar, smirking.

Scoffing, Mira clenched her fists. “I only hope we actually find her…” Paxx fluttered up out of the grass and landed on Mira’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek comfortingly.

Rose put a hand on Mira’s shoulder and squeezed it. “I’m sure we’ll find her.”

Anarka nodded. “I know we will.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mira demanded, trembling.

Anarka smiled. “Because she raised you, and if she’s even half as tough as her daughter, there’s no way a little thing like this Night Bat is going to keep her away!” Her eyes strayed over to Juleka. “And I can already tell you that there’s nothing a mother won’t do for her children.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” Anarka hugged Mira tightly. “When you have a little one of your own, you’ll know what I mean.”

Mira closed her eyes, holding back tears as Anarka hugged her. Her mother was going to be okay. She was going to find her. She was going to keep her safe.

And the Bat was going to pay dearly for all of this.

Suddenly Rose let out a gasp, pointing to the north. Mira’s eyes seared from the blinding light of in the distance, coming from a spot further north, closer to the center of the city. A beam of light shot up into heaven, even as it simultaneously expanded outward from a single point in a wave emanating from that one point.

Mira’s eyes widened in shock. “Mom!” A power capable of producing a magical blast like that had to be intense, and that could only mean that it was coming from her mother. Before she could take the time to think about what she was doing, Mira had already sprung from the ground, shouting, “Aripi!” Wings sprouted from her back as she took to the sky, turning in that direct and leaning toward the site. Before she had crossed more than a block, she had already transformed and drawn her naginata, brandishing it in front of herself in both hands.

“Mira! Wait!” hollered Kagami behind her, followed by something too soft for Mira to hear. Moments later, Ryoku bellowed, “Wind Dragon,” and the wind around Hato Gozen rose markedly. She turned to look back, just in time to pump and veer to one side to avoid Ryoku’s rapid ascent. Ryoku hovered beside her, sword drawn in one hand, keeping pace with her easily while held up in the air by air moving below her body.

“Are you going to stop me?” Hato Gozen asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge and pointing north. “Because that has to be Mom.”

“Hell, no, I’m not going to stop you.” Ryoku shook her head. “You’re probably right that that’s your mom,” she agreed. “And if that’s the case, there’s no way you’re not doing whatever you can to rescue her – you know how tough my relationship with my mother is, but I would still fight anyone and everyone to keep her safe. But you aren’t taking on Night Bat alone. I’m coming with you. Regardless of what’s happening there, the two of us together can handle it better than you can on your own.”

Hato Gozen nodded, the knot in her stomach unclenching slightly. Glancing back down at the ground behind them, she could see the other four sprinting along, following her and Ryoku. Viperion held Anarka on his back. She had her friends – her family – with her. She wasn’t going to be facing this on her own. “I’m sorry for running off last time,” she admitted, letting out a breath.

“Just don’t do it again,” Ryoku responded, sending a gust of wind back and propelling herself faster. “We have to stick together.”

Hato Gozen nodded, her mouth taking on a hard set. “No arguments from here.”

As they flew side by side toward the light beam’s location, Hato Gozen forced herself to breathe normally. Her mother was in trouble, but she was already doing as much as she could. She would get to her, and then they would get back to what she needed to do. She would bring her back to Paris, and they would be safe again. The anxious knot in her stomach eased slightly.

They were less than a block from where the light beam had appeared when Ryoku paused and looked down at the ground, humming. “Hang on…”

Hato Gozen followed her gaze to find the Deaconess standing in the intersection below them. “What’s she doing here?”

“It’s got to be related, right?” Ryoku suggested, brows furrowed in thought. “Wherever she’s going, Night Bat can’t be far.”

Hato Gozen nodded and turned as the Deaconess jogged down a side street. “Let’s follow her…”

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

“It’s your fault that she got away! You went after her!”

Night Bat’s eyes narrowed, staring at the Prior, his mouth set into a thin line. Some days these Dark Acolytes of the Mundane were far more trouble than they were worth. He had worked with unpleasant and arrogant people in the past – in fact he rarely worked with people who did not fit that description – but very few had ever displayed the level of haughtiness which the Prior showed – certainly not after seeing Night Bat’s full power on display. Under any other circumstances, Night Bat would have executed the Prior to make an example and replaced him with a more pliable puppet months ago. And yet, these Dark Acolytes had a power over miraculous users that could not be discounted. Night Bat’s aura of command had been enough to keep the Dark Acolytes in check so far, but they were not to be underestimated. And if he was going to end the threat of the Doves once and for all and accomplish his goal of acquiring the Miraculous of Destruction, he would need the Dark Acolytes as an ally.

It was a pity that he had not been able to use his Kiss on the Prior yet. The man had so many negative characteristics ripe for exploitation.

“The blame for this failure belongs to everyone,” Night Bat informed him shortly. “You and your two assistants would have been entirely lost on your own. As it is, we have flushed her out of hiding and robbed her of her allies; now we have only to find her and bring her back to Paris with us as bait.”

“A task which would have been eased if you had managed to capture her just now,” the Prior pointed out, his mouth set in a thin line. “After all, she was in your power, her allies had fled or died, and my ‘assistants’ had performed their task by robbing her of her support. Now what are we to do now?”

Night Bat pursed his lips. “The same as we were doing before this tip,” he retorted. “Spread out and search. But fortunately, this time when we find her she will be alone, without these ‘Geroi Moskvy’ to help her.”

The Prior arched an eyebrow. “That’s your plan? I already dispatched the Deacon and Deaconess to search the city for the Geroi Moskvy while you were playing around with her. I had hoped you would have a better plan than that.”

Night Bat’s blood boiled, though outwardly he maintained a veneer of calm. Someday this arrogant little man would make an excellent target for his Kiss.

“Night Bat!” The Deaconess’s voice abruptly came through the communicator in his ear. “I–I found the Heroes of Paris!” she gasped breathlessly. “They’re here!”

“Where are you?” demanded the Prior, cocking his head.

“I’m… about three blocks from you.”

“Can you lose them?” the Prior asked, waving for the Bearator and Cerna to come up out of the Geroi Moskvy headquarters and meet them.

“I can tr–”

“No.” Night Bat furrowed his brows in thought. “There is a small park approximately four blocks north of us. Lead them there, but not yet,” he instructed her. “We will be waiting.”

The Prior cocked his head, staring at Night Bat suspiciously. “What are you thinking?”

“This gives us an opportunity,” he informed the Prior. “The Heroes of Paris are now here, looking for Olivet just as we are. We may achieve the same end – defeating the Dove and her allies – even without having Olivet in our possession.” He arched an eyebrow. “After all, the former Dove was only ever a means to an end.”


Only a couple minutes later the Deaconess, gasping and wheezing from exertion, raced into the park, with Hato Gozen and Ryoku flying behind her in hot pursuit. Night Bat grinned maliciously, having gotten into position with moments to spare. He watched their progress carefully from his ambush behind a copse of trees. Exactly as he had expected. The two heroes appeared to be alone. He nodded slowly: these two had been the thorns in his side when he first arrived in Paris; it seemed appropriate for them both to fall on the same day. Hato Gozen wound up with her naginata and hurled a blast of light energy at the Deaconess, who glanced over her shoulder, put on a burst of speed, and dove to the side to avoid it. Hato Gozen, however, had anticipated her evasion, and sent another energy beam where the Deaconess landed.

Night Bat’s eyes went black. Clenching his fingers he punched his fist out, extending his fingers like talons as he muttered, “Raza neagra.” A pulse of black energy burst out from his hand, struck Hato Gozen’s energy beam, and reflected it back at her. Hato Gozen gasped and spun around into a roll, furling her wings and dropping four meters, narrowly avoiding the energy blast and almost flying straight into a tree below her before catching herself. She spread her wings just as her feet brushed the top branches of the tree, gliding around it in a tight loop.

Ryoku turned in all directions, searching for the source of the energy blast, before her eyes locked onto Night Bat’s position and she shouted, hurtling toward him, sword outstretched.

“Fulger negru!” Night Bat shouted, glaring up at her maliciously. Black lightning erupted from his fingertips, arcing toward her. She dropped a dozen meters straight down, caught herself momentarily a meter from the ground, and finally alit on the grass, sword held up and pointed at Night Bat’s face. He smirked. “Once again we cross blades, Ryoku,” he sneered. “Do you think this meeting will go any different from the last one?”

Ryoku smirked, shifting her stance and raising her sword alongside her shoulders. “I know it will,” she replied, blocking easily as he jabbed at her chest, sliding her blade up his and nearly catching his wrist before he disengaged. “Because this time, I know your style.”

Night Bat scoffed. “We shall see, child.” He sprang forward into a furious sequence of slashes and stabs, pushing her back several paces. She furrowed her brows in concentration, parrying every attack before jumping over a low slash and tumbling above Night Bat’s head. He slashed upward, narrowly missing her legs, and spun around to block her strike as she landed. She pulled her sword back at the last minute, dropping to the ground and swinging her leg at his to trip him up. He easily jumped over the trip and kicked her in the face, which she ducked beneath. He landed and brought his sword down in a stab–

–only to narrowly avoid a slash from Hato Gozen. The Dove landed directly in front of him, with Ryoku on the ground between them, slicing downward with her fully-extended naginata. Night Bat parried with moments to spare, pushing the naginata blade away from his head and into the ground at his side. Ryoku kicked him in the knee, and he jumped with the force, aiming a slash at Ryoku as he did so. Hato Gozen parried the strike as Ryoku rolled to her feet. The two heroes fanned out to either side of him, aiming to flank him.

“You put up a stiff resistance,” he commented to Hato Gozen, who tensed, her grip tightening on her naginata. “It was a pity your mother could not do the same…”

Hato Gozen screamed in rage, her eyes shifting to white, and leapt straight for him, swinging her naginata wildly. Night Bat stayed still until the last moment and ducked, sliding underneath her slash and kicking Ryoku hard in the gut as she lunged from the opposite direction. Ryoku slammed backward into a tree trunk and slid down it. An enraged bellow filled the park. Ryoku turned the moment her feet touched the ground and brought up her sword to block a slash from the Bearator before jumping back away from his second set of hand claws. Hato Gozen blocked Night Bat’s next slash with the long handle of her naginata, allowing the force to sweep her blade down at his neck.

Night Bat ducked the blow easily and smirked. “I see that I may have touched a nerve…”

“You went after my mother!” Hato Gozen seethed, eyes shifting to white. “That is something I will never forgive!”

“Don’t let him distract you!” shouted Ryoku, sweeping the Bearator’s legs out from under him, twirling her sword over her head, and bringing it down in a stab as he landed. The Bearator swung one hand claw wildly, knocking the sword away so it stuck into the soil next to his shoulder.

Two more figures sprinted into the clearing. From the corner of his eye, Night Bat identified them as Miss Pinky and Bengalia. “Now!” he shouted, jumping back away from Hato Gozen as she shortened her naginata handle.

The Deacon sprang from his hiding spot behind a tree on the edge of the park as the Deaconess kipped to her feet. At the same moment, both Acolytes lobbed wads of chi-putty at the two newly-arrived heroes. Bengalia gasped, eyes wide, and jumped in front of Miss Pinky. The chi-putty stuck to her chest and she froze in place, arms raised. Miss Pinky leapt over Bengalia, spinning her rake, and contorted her torso to avoid another piece of chi-putty from the Deaconess that sailed harmlessly past her. Landing in front of the Deaconess, she swung her rake at the Deaconess’s head, which she caught on her staff, angling it to deflect the rake up and away from herself. The Deacon kicked Miss Pinky in the hip, but she stepped out of the way, swinging her rake head out and around herself, driving the two Acolytes away from Bengalia. The Prior rushed from his own hiding spot closer to the heroes and toward the immobilized Bengalia, fingers outstretched, a look of triumph on his face.

A lyre flew out from nowhere and struck the Prior in the shoulder blade, knocking him off balance, before returning back the way it had come. Viperion caught the lyre out of midair and placed an older woman on her feet next to him. “Get the putty off of Bengalia,” he told the woman, surveying the scene in front of him. However, he had stopped right in front of the tree where Cerna had taken a position hiding in the branches. She dropped from above, swinging her battleaxe at his head. Even before she had moved, Viperion had already reacted, spinning his lyre around to lay flat along his forearm. Cerna landed as her battleaxe deflected off the lyre, and Viperion retreated a step away from her.

The Prior picked himself up off the ground and spun his staff in front of himself, eyeing them. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at the Prior as he edged toward Bengalia. “You are not going to lay a finger on her!” the woman shrieked, clenching her fists with rage in her eyes.

Night Bat smirked as he blocked Hato Gozen’s next blow. “I see that you brought friends,” he observed. He shot a dark saw at her head, and she blocked it with her naginata. “They will not save you.” Across the park, Miss Pinky ducked away from the two Dark Acolytes, narrowly evading a bolas that skipped across the park toward Viperion.

“You will never win,” Hato Gozen spat, feinting a jab at Night Bat’s chest. At the same moment, Ryoku spun around a kick from the Bearator and slashed at Night Bat’s head. He raised his arm, forming a shield of black energy to block her sword. The Bearator lunged after Ryoku, who pulled back from Night Bat to block the Bearator’s strike, catching her sword blade between two of his claws. Night Bat attempted a stab at Ryoku’s back, but Hato Gozen parried it with her naginata. “We are going to stop you.”

“I would like to see you try,” scoffed Night Bat.

The Prior grabbed his staff with both hands and swung it at the woman who had come with the heroes as she tried to stay between him and Bengalia. She raised her arm to block the staff, and stumbled as the blow landed, shaking her arm and wincing. He stood over her, leering down at her. Bengalia glared at him though she could do nothing more as he approached her.

A blast of white light struck the Prior in the chest, sending him skidding across the ground.

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

As the invisibility activated, Claire forced herself to take in a deep breath, to refocus herself after the fight. If she had thought she was exhausted the night before, if she had thought she was at the end of her rope when the Bat chased her out of the Geroi Moskvy headquarters, it was nothing to how she felt now. Since she had given Mira the miraculous, she had only used her magic a handful of times – and not for fighting. Slowly she pumped her wings, rising higher, careful not to waft the Bat with the downdraft.

What was she going to do now?

In her flight, she had left her go-bag behind. In the best-case scenario, the Bat and his minions would leave it be so she could retrieve it later. In the worst case, he would find it and take it, leaving her to start again. Nothing in the bag pointed to where she had hidden her stash, or gave any information about Mira. But losing her funds and travel documents… And even if she could recover her bag, she couldn’t use any of the passports now: the Bat might find the bag, write down the names she had used, and leave it for her as a trap. The best she could hope for was to use the money to pay Georgy to make her a new set of documents.

But regardless, she couldn’t stay here, hovering above the Bat. If her magic gave out, he would see her and attack, and any escape plans would be moot. With a last glance down at the Bat, locked in argument with one of the Dark Acolytes, she turned away. Catching a draft, she flew west, looking to put as much distance between herself and the Bat as possible.

She had only managed a kilometer or so when flashes of sky-blue and red from the north caught her eye. Claire’s eyes widened in shock. As if a vision or a dream, there was Hato Gozen, flying past her with another miraculous user – Ryoku, if she wasn’t mistaken. A Dark Acolyte ran down the street a block ahead of the two heroes, but not running toward the Bat.

Claire cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Hey!” Neither Hato Gozen nor Ryoku acknowledged her cry. Below and a few blocks behind them, another group of heroes followed them. The boy – young man – at the back glanced up, but he looked before Claire thought to release the magic keeping her invisible. With a groan, Claire wheeled about to follow, as Hato Gozen and Ryoku dove into a park and the Bat appeared. Hato Gozen and Ryoku moved almost like a single person in two bodies as they dueled the Bat, one pressing him back while the other took advantage. Pride swelled in Claire’s chest as she drifted closer, watching transfixed while Hato Gozen fought. But then the Bat’s allies joined in as the other heroes arrived. One of the heroes, a girl in magenta (Bengalia?), froze mid-step. A woman with graying hair – the only non-miraculous user among Mira’s friends, fought desperately to keep one of the Dark Acolytes away from her while a girl in pink – Miss Pinky – fought two more Dark Acolytes. The Prior had already struck the woman once; he raised his staff to strike her again.

Claire couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lumina!” She punched down at the Prior, sending a blast of white light directly at him. The beam caught him completely off guard, and he fell backward in shock and skidded across the ground, churning up a groove in the earth. With the exertion, the spell hiding Claire from view faded away, and she folded her wings, dropping to the ground and flaring them out to catch herself just before she touched down. “You will stay down!” she ordered the Prior, kicking him in the face.

The woman supported herself on Bengalia’s shoulder and shook her head groggily, staring at Claire. “You must be… um… Hato Gozen’s mother, then?” she asked, peeling the chi-putty off of Bengalia.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Bengalia asked worriedly.

The woman scoffed. “It’ll take more than a rap like that to keep me down, kiddo!” She patted the girl’s cheek. “Now you go and whip them scurvy dogs!” As Bengalia sprinted across the park to where Hato Gozen remained in a heated battle with the Bat, the woman turned back to Claire and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Claire nodded firmly. “I am. And you are…?”

The woman shrugged, her eyes roving across the field and settling on one of the Dark Acolytes. “Under the circumstances, I think the kids would keelhaul me if I gave a real name! So call me… ‘Captain Hardrock,’ I guess.”

Claire hummed. “In that case, you may as well call me ‘Olivet.’”

A shout drew Claire’s attention to where Miss Pinky was fighting another of the Dark Acolytes – the Deaconess. Miss Pinky had her back against a tree, bent almost double and hopping to keep her balance while fending off the Deaconess with her rake one-handed. A glance down at her legs and Claire could see why: the Deaconess had managed to wrap one of their bolas around Miss Pinky’s ankles. Miss Pinky’s fingertips released wisps of smoke as she attempted to untangle the cord with her other hand. She over-balanced and almost fell over, barely catching herself with her rake but leaving her back exposed to the Deaconess.

“Bitch!” Captain Hardrock narrowed her eyes at the sight, all trace of her previous injury disappearing from her face. She sprinted across the park, Claire close behind her. “Stay away from her!” Captain Hardrock screamed, slamming her shoulder into the surprised Deaconess and knocking her away from Miss Pinky. The Deaconess caught herself with one hand on the ground, spun around in a cartwheel, and landed in a sprinter’s stance before charging back at Captain Hardrock, swinging her staff back with one hand. Captain Hardrock, however, had dropped to her knees and grabbed the bolas rope, unwinding it from around Miss Pinky’s ankles. The Deaconess was almost within reach of them.

Claire inhaled deeply and blew, sending a wind blast over Captain Hardrock which caught the Deaconess full-on in the chest. The Deaconess flailed her arms as the wind launched her backward, away from Captain Hardrock. Claire spun to her left just as the Deacon swung a straight tree branch at her head. She raised her arm and formed a white shield along her forearm, catching the branch and knocking it away, spinning with the motion to kick the Deacon in the chest. The Deacon jumped back away from her, nearly catching her shin with a sweep of his branch.

Captain Hardrock suddenly appeared from the side and punched the distracted Deacon in the side, right under the ribs. His eyes widened in shock, and he threw a kick at her knee. Captain Hardrock sidestepped to avoid the kick and threw a punch at the Deacon’s face.

“Duck now!” called another miraculous user – Viperion – moments before Captain Hardrock ducked under a swinging attack from the Deaconess. She disengaged from the Deacon and kicked the Deaconess in the gut. The Deaconess, however, jumped back to escape the kick and swung her staff at Captain Hardrock’s head. Captain Hardrock leaned back and grabbed the staff, trying to pull it from the Deaconess’ grasp. Viperion waved at Claire. “Olivet, light beam to your 7 o’clock!”

Confused, Claire obeyed, sending a thin blast of light behind her to the left. Someone yelped, and she turned in surprise to see the Bearator standing next to a tree and rubbing his side. His eyes narrowed in Claire’s direction, only for Ryoku to catch him down one arm with a slash. He hissed in pain and turned back to her, raising one of his hand claws to block Ryoku’s second attack. The other miraculous user with the Bat swung her battleaxe at Ryoku’s back, but without looking she jumped into a back-flip and the axe chopped straight through the tree, which fell over in the Bearator’s direction.

“Go le–”

Claire and Captain Hardrock both spun around at the same moment to find Viperion frozen in place, the Prior standing beside him. Claire could just pick out the tiny speck of putty on his upper arm. The Prior’s hand was on Viperion’s shoulder; Viperion’s eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and fear. Claire drew her hand back and opened her mouth–

“GET AWAY FROM MY SON YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!!!!”

Claire’s heart stopped and her jaw dropped. The Prior froze, startled. Captain Hardrock barreled straight into him, heedless of the staff he raised to keep her back, and body-slammed him to the ground, landing on top of him and pummeling him with her fists. “I’ll kill you if you ever touch my kids again, you bastard!” The Prior dropped his staff and blocked with his arms, trying desperately to protect himself from the onslaught. Claire raced across toward them, but pulled up short when the Deacon threw his branch in front of her feet, tripping her up. Claire spread her wings and took to the air as she fell, furling one wing and spinning around to face him before unleashing a torrent of energy at him. The Deacon dove to one side out of the way, sprang to his feet, and narrowly dodged again when Claire shifted her energy beam to compensate.

Movement from one side caught Claire’s eye. The Deaconess snuck closer to Viperion, but Captain Hardrock was still busy with the Prior, who had managed to push her off and regain his feet. Claire dropped to the ground, allowed her wings to disappear, and drew her hands apart in front of her face. “Baston!” a staff of pure light appeared between her hands as they parted, and she swung it at the Deaconess, who parried it away with her own staff. Claire kicked her in the chest, and she stumbled back. Claire shot a concussive blast at the Prior, who retreated, and Captain Hardrock bull-rushed the Deaconess, raining punches on her.

“Leave my kids alone!” Captain Hardrock bellowed, blocking the Deaconess’s staff with her arm, eyes alight.

“Wait, these are your children?” demanded the Deaconess, wide eyes drifting around the park to take in the five miraculous heroes. “You’re their mother?”

“Yes!” Captain Hardrock punched the Deaconess in the shoulder

“And – and you are happy with what they are doing?” The Deaconess’ staff dropped lower

“Of course I am!” Captain Hardrock scoffed. “My kids are superheroes. They fight super-villains – like you. They help people. What mother wouldn’t be happy with that?”

“But–”

“If you ever touch one of my children again, I will end you,” Captain Hardrock interrupted, seething with rage.

The Deaconess’ mouth hung open. Claire watched the standoff, confused. Before Claire could react, the Prior smacked Captain Hardrock across the back with his staff, knocking her to the ground at the still-frozen Viperion’s feet. “And if your children don’t relinquish their miraculous for the sake of balance, I will ‘end’ them!” he retorted, placing his foot on her back and pressing the end of his staff against the back of her neck. Her fingers clenched into fists, struggling vainly against the Prior’s weight.

“Bataie!” shouted Claire, bringing her fists together and collapsing her light-staff between them. The moment her fists touched, a massive concussive blast propelled straight out from them and struck the Prior in the back with a sound like thunder, hurtling him away from Captain Hardrock, tumbling end over end until he slammed into a tree. Claire sprinted to Captain Hardrock’s side, waving her hand upward. “Apara!” A shimmery white veil appeared, separating Captain Hardrock and Viperion from the Dark Acolytes. The Deacon hurled a stick at Claire, who jumped over it without slowing down or dropping her shield. She swung her arm up and blew out, sending a current of wind directly at the Deacon, picking him up a meter off the ground and pushing his legs out from under him before letting him crash back down. She skidded to a stop next to Captain Hardrock and pulled the chi-putty off of Viperion’s arm before collapsing to the ground and sealing off the shield in a dome around them.

Viperion looked down at his wrist and cursed. “Second Chance ended,” he groaned. “We’re stuck with this.”

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Locked in combat on the far side of the park, Hato Gozen hardly noticed the surprise appearance of Miss Pinky, Bengalia, and Viperion, nor could she spare a glance for the rest of Night Bat’s allies as they broke their cover to attack the others. Ryoku had moved away to fight the Bearator, but all of Hato Gozen’s focus was on the Bat. Ducking beneath a slash from Night Bat, she aimed a quick light blast at his gut at pointblank range. Night Bat, however, blocked and absorbed the energy with a wave of his hand. His eyes flashed to black, and Hato Gozen’s eyes widened in recognition. She sprang away and took to the air moments before he unleashed a pulse of dark energy straight across the park which rippled through the grass and shook the trees. Bringing her arms together in front of herself, Hato Gozen formed a shield to protect herself from the leading edge of the dark-wave, riding the shock up above the trees. From her elevated position, Hato Gozen took in the mass confusion around her in a glance.

On the far side, Ryoku was busy with the Bearator and Cerna, parrying slashes from the Bearator while simultaneously evading Cerna’s wide, sweeping attacks. Miss Pinky blocked a blow from the Deaconess with her rake, planted it on the ground, and kicked the Deaconess in the chest. Anarka and the Deacon went back and forth across the grass, guided by Viperion. Hato Gozen caught a quick glimpse of Bengalia before she vanished from view.

Spinning around, Hato Gozen furled her wings and dove, pulling up, throwing her legs forward, and aiming a kick at Night Bat’s head. Night Bat jumped to avoid her and summoned a column of air beneath himself. Before she could recover, he rocketed up into the air, his sword raised in both hands, looking down on her below him. Hato Gozen’s eyes narrowed. Night Bat took a quick slash at her, and she swept her naginata above her to fend off his attack, pumping backward with her wings to create space between them. Leaning forward, Night Bat pursued her on his air-column, a manic glint in his eye. The distance between them closed rapidly and he took another swing at her left wing. Hato Gozen blocked the strike with the long handle of her naginata, pushing the blade up and sweeping her own blade around from below, almost making contact with his wind column.

Night Bat flitted away, out of her reach, and pulled back his sword before throwing out his free hand, fingers outstretched. Black lightning arced across the distance, almost faster than thought, and Hato Gozen pumped one wing, turning herself sideways with barely any time to spare. Night Bat moved his aim to follow her.

Hato Gozen held up one arm. “Scut!” A broad shield appeared along her arm and caught the lightning, which crackled against the energy shield as Hato Gozen absorbed it. Black lightning turned to white as the shield flared brightly, electricity dancing along the surface. Twirling her naginata with one hand, Hato Gozen opened her other hand to reabsorb her shield, blocking a black energy disk with her naginata. Diving in closer, she caught her naginata, turned the blade down, and stabbed at Night Bat, who pushed himself higher and drifted further away from her.

Movement on the ground caught Hato Gozen’s eye and, without taking her eyes off of Night Bat, she glided around Night Bat’s air column, descending as she went. Night Bat followed her, matching her altitude as she wheeled around him. Suddenly, Hato Gozen dropped to the ground in a crouch, just as Miss Pinky vaulted into the air, straight through the space Hato Gozen had just occupied, and drove her foot into Night Bat’s chest.

“You will pay for everything you’ve done!” screeched Miss Pinky, sending Night Bat reeling.

Night Bat gasped in shock and fell backward, his air column dissipating as he flew out of it. Spinning around he sent a small gust of wind down to cushion himself just before he landed on the soft grass. “You will have to be more specific, child,” he told her calmly, straightening up and flicking his sword to the side with a flourish. “I have been accused of a great many things by a great many people over a great many years.”

Hato Gozen scoffed, landing next to Miss Pinky and raising her naginata to lie along her arms. She dismissed her wings and dropped into a fighting stance, her naginata stretching past her, between Miss Pinky and Night Bat. “All of them true, of course.”

He raised an eyebrow at her languidly. “Not all. I had nothing to do with the Black Death, for example.”

“‘Nothing’,” she deadpanned, arching an eyebrow in disbelief. “Do you expect me to take your word for anything?”

He shrugged. “It is immaterial to me whether you believe or disbelieve anything I say.”

Miss Pinky swung her rake out to one side before bringing it to rest behind her arm, the head over her shoulder, and dipped to one side, pointing the rake’s head at Night Bat. “I don’t care about any of that,” she told him, eyes narrowed. “All I care about is what you did to Tyran-X!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I believe you were the one responsible for that particular evil,” he pointed out, a malicious grin spread across his face. Miss Pinky tensed. “Did I strike a nerve?”

Hato Gozen glared at him furiously, her grip on her naginata tightening. “Oh, no; you do not get to put that on Miss Pinky!” she retorted. “She was not the one who killed his wife; that was your boss and his people!”

Night Bat hummed in contemplation. “Perhaps that is what you tell yourself,” he allowed. He threw a blast of energy at Miss Pinky which Hato Gozen deflected, and suddenly jumped at Hato Gozen, his sword flashing. She caught his thrust with her naginata’s shaft and pushed it back, contracting the handle down to sword length and counterattacking in the same motion. He evaded her attack and shifted to put Miss Pinky between himself and Hato Gozen. “Nevertheless,” he told Miss Pinky, swinging his sword at her neck, “You were the one who brought battle to the location where his wife was.”

Miss Pinky nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. “Oh, I know,” she agreed, blocking his strike and swinging the head of her rake at an upward angle at him. “But I wasn’t the one who gave him a miraculous when he really needed a hug. I wasn’t the one who convinced him to choose murder over mourning. I wasn’t the one who told him that the only way to get closure is revenge! That was you!!!

Night Bat slid under her strike and aimed a kick at her side. Hato Gozen jumped in and grabbed his leg, throwing him backward, away from Miss Pinky. He landed in a crouch, catching himself with one hand, and lunged forward. “I did nothing of the sort,” Night Bat informed them. “That was entirely the Lynchpin’s idea, quite independent of my own input.”

Hato Gozen scoffed, pushing Night Bat back with a concussive blast. “Are you saying you’ve found yourself a patron almost as sociopathic and manipulative as yourself?”

Night Bat scoffed. “Is that really so hard to believe?” Standing in a defensive crouch, he gestured for them to attack. Hato Gozen feinted a lunge with her naginata as Miss Pinky sprinted to the side, flanking him. Night Bat’s eyes shifted to follow Miss Pinky.

Nearby the Bearator cocked his head in surprise, miraculous ears twitching, and spun around. One of his claws came up, and sparks flew as he caught Bengalia’s claws on his own, locking them together and twisting. Bengalia reappeared directly in front of him, twisted her hand with his and past it, spinning around and wrenching his hand claws out of his grip. The hand claw whistled across the park and struck a tree, embedding several centimeters in the wood, and in the same motion she kicked him in the shoulder. With his remaining hand claw he aimed a slash at her arm, and she blocked with her own claws. The Bearator sprang back away from her and hurled his hand claws at Bengalia, who ducked beneath them and kicked him in the leg. He stumbled, and she sliced clean through his sleeve, drawing blood and jabbing one claw into his skin. He winced and retreated.

Further away, Ryoku blocked Cerna’s axe and caught her sword beneath the axe’s beard. With a violent jerk she wrenched it from Cerna’s grip and sent it hurtling across the park, slashing Cerna’s forearm in the process. Cerna’s eyes widened and she stared at Ryoku in fear, shouting, “Call of the Hunt!” She let out an ear-piercing shriek, and suddenly the sky turned dark with pigeons, which wheeled about and dove straight at Ryoku.

“Water Dragon!” called Ryoku, melting into liquid on the ground as the birds hurtled past her and Cerna retrieved her battleaxe. Ryoku reformed and slashed at Cerna, who blocked the sword with the handle of her battleaxe, pushing the sword blade down to the side. Cerna brought her hands together and swung with a mighty chop, straight at Ryoku’s head, and Ryoku narrowly dodged it, rolling to her feet and spinning around Cerna’s follow-up attack.

Hato Gozen hurled another concussive blast at Night Bat, just as Miss Pinky sprang forward and swung her rake’s head at his head. Night Bat held out his hand and redirected the concussive force at Miss Pinky’s head, propelling her backward. She tumbled backward through a full rotation, directly at a tree. Hato Gozen flicked her wrist and summoned a ball of air behind Miss Pinky, cushioning her and slowing her down just in time. She slid down the tree trunk to the ground, shaking her head. With a yell Hato Gozen charged Night Bat, who sprinted straight for Miss Pinky.

“I think you need to reevaluate whom you blame for your failures,” Night Bat observed, standing over her and pointing his sword at her throat. “And perhaps work out some of this anger.”

“Yeah, well, no time like the present for that!” grunted Miss Pinky, swinging her rake’s handle in front of herself to knock his sword away. He leaned back to avoid the blow and lunged forward as the rake handle past, before she could get up.

Pressing one hand to her shoulder and a knee to her chest to keep her down, he grinned. “Or perhaps you need a good Kiss–”

“No!” Hato Gozen shrieked, hurling her naginata straight at Night Bat’s back. He dove to one side, away from Miss Pinky, and Hato Gozen summoned the naginata back to her hand before the blade could even graze the tree.

With a growl, Miss Pinky surged to her feet and sprang at Night Bat, swinging her rake over her head and down in the same motion, chopping at his head like an axe. He raised his arm with an energy shield to block the strike and caught the leading edge of the rake head on his shield. Miss Pinky redirected, bringing the rake’s handle whipping up at his waist and catching him by surprise.

Taking the end of the rake’s handle in his gut, Night Bat gave an evaluating hum, examining Miss Pinky carefully. Suddenly his eyes turned black. Hato Gozen gasped and threw a white magic shield between him and Miss Pinky, less than a second before he emitted a blast of black energy straight at her. Miss Pinky flinched, but the shield just barely held, redirecting the force back at Night Bat himself. Reabsorbing his own magic, he let out a breath and frowned, examining the scene around him. The Bearator and Cerna stood back-to-back with Bengalia and Ryoku bearing down on them. The Prior was down on one knee, shaking his head. The Deacon was on the ground; the Deaconess was nursing her wrist near a dome of white light. Finally he nodded. “Well played, heroes. This is no longer winnable,” he shouted, sending a final parting shot at Hato Gozen before pushing his hands down and propelling himself away with a column of air.

With a resigned groan, Cerna feinted a slash at Ryoku before sprinting the opposite direction past Bengalia, the Bearator in hot pursuit. Cerna stumbled but managed to remain upright as she ran past the Deaconess. For her part, the Deaconess grabbed Cerna around the shoulders, and the two of them disappeared down the street together. The Prior pushed himself to his feet and followed more slowly.

“They’re getting away!” shouted Ryoku, dropping into a sprinter’s stance.

Bengalia nodded and slowly copied Ryoku.

Hato Gozen frowned. “I… don’t think we’re in any shape to worry about them now,” she admitted. “Besides, we got one of them, at least.” She strode over to the unconscious Deacon, looking down at him with disdain.

Bengalia grinned weakly and nodded across the park. “We got more than that!”

The white dome on the far side of the park disappeared, and Hato Gozen looked over to see three people: Viperion, Anarka, and – “Mom!”

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“Mom!” Heedless of everything else around her, Hato Gozen sprinted across the park, her eyes fixed on the distant figure of her mother, standing next to Anarka and Viperion. Her mother turned toward her, eyes widening in surprise. Hato Gozen dropped her transformation and threw her arms around her mother, hugging her tightly and sobbing uncontrollably. Gently her mother wrapped her arms around Mira, running her hands up and down Mira’s back. Mira buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, finally allowing her tears to flow freely.

Her mother held her like that for several minutes, until Mira’s tears slowed and her shoulders stopped shaking. Eventually her mother leaned back and held Mira out at arm’s length, examining her face. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed, sniffing back tears. She kissed Mira on either cheek. “Only three years? You’ve gotten so much older and more mature!” She pulled Mira into a tight hug. “Oh, I love you so much.”

Mira sniffled. “I love you, too, Mom.”

“Olivet!” squeaked Paxx, alighting on Mira’s shoulder. The Kwami stared at her mother with wide eyes and a beaming smile on her face. “It’s been so long!”

Her mother slid one hand up Mira’s back and cupped it behind Paxx, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead. The Kwami giggled. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again, Birdy!”

Paxx smiled brightly and nuzzled up against her mother’s cheek. “It’s been centuries since I saw a previous holder after she had relinquished me! I’m so happy to see you!”

Mira chuckled in relief. “You’re just saying that because you’re hungry, aren’t you?” Paxx stared at her with wide, pleading eyes. Mira rolled her eyes. “In my purse.” Paxx flitted into the bag and reappeared moments later with a granola bar.

Behind her, Mira could hear Ryoku whisper, “This makes it all worth it.”

Anarka hummed. “That’s what family is for, kiddo.”

Mira finally released her mother, though she could have continued to hug her for hours. It had been so long since she had seen her. She had never thought she would see her again – especially when she saw the evidence of the battle on the television this morning (was it morning?). But she was here. She was safe. Mira wiped a tear from her eye. “I was so worried!”

Her mother let out a breath, her face falling. “I’m sorry I worried you,” she told her quietly. “It was… scary… facing the Bat again,” she admitted. “I didn’t know what to do – all I could do was try to keep you safe.” She looked away, a shadow passing in front of her eyes. Finally she sniffled and looked back. “But all of this – everything that happened – it’s all worth it, just to see you again.” She pressed a kiss to Mira’s forehead.

Mira’s shoulders slumped and she looked down at the ground, tears pooling in her eyes again. Paxx looked back up at her with a worried expression. “I know it was my fault he found you,” Mira confessed. “It’s all my fault… But I’m so sorry for putting you in danger.”

Placing one finger under Mira’s chin, her mother pulled her head up to meet her gaze. Her eyes wide and filled with love, her mother shook her head. “I don’t blame you for any of it.” She hugged her again. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m not upset. The last four years had been so hard, just being on my own here while you were off fighting the Bat, not knowing how you were or whether you were even okay… I’m just grateful to have you back now.”

“I am, too,” Mira whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her mother smiled. “And I’m so proud of you! Watching you fight… it’s like a vision!”

Paxx squealed in excitement. “Hato Gozen has been one of my best holders!” she assured her.

Mira smiled weakly and patted the Kwami on the head. “Only what you taught me,” she told her mother, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

Her mother raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.” Her eyes drifted around the park, and Mira finally became aware of Viperion standing with his arms around Ryoku, Anarka beside them with her hand on Viperion’s shoulder. Bengalia and Miss Pinky likewise were arm-in-arm, though Bengalia’s eyes flitted back and forth between them and the Deacon, still lying unconscious beside a tree several paces away. “I never taught you to fight with a team!”

Mira smiled proudly. “Not a team,” she corrected her. “A family.”

Her mother nodded in acknowledgement, though her smile faltered a little. “A family, indeed.”

Slowly, Anarka pushed away from Viperion and stepped gingerly forward. Ryoku slid out of Viperion’s arms and grabbed Anarka around the waist as Miss Pinky did the same, just as Anarka stumbled. She looked down at them in surprise but shook her head, massaging her temple. Meeting Mira’s mother’s gaze, she held out a hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you… Olivet. You really raised a good one there…”

“‘Claire’, please,” she replied, releasing Mira with one arm and shaking Anarka’s hand. “And I suppose I can say the same to you!” Her brows knit together in concern, examining Anarka’s eyes.

Mira raised an eyebrow at Kagami, who pursed her lips and shrugged. “Do you need to sit down, Anarka?” asked Mira, giving her a worried look.

Anarka shook her head adamantly. “I’m fine,” she insisted, waving one hand dismissively. “This is nothing next to ’95!”

Viperion cocked his head. “Are you ever going to tell us about ’95, Mom?”

“Maybe when you’re older.” She grinned, but it morphed into a wince.

Mira took a hesitant step forward, but her mother put a hand out to stop her.

“Allow me.” Her mother placed one hand on Anarka’s shoulder and closed her eyes. “Vindeca,” she murmured.

Anarka started, her eyes bugging out in surprise. After a moment she shook her head and let out a breath.  “Whoo… thank you! I could get used to that…”

Mira’s mother smiled. “After fighting alongside you, Captain, I don’t doubt that!” she told her. “And it’s no more than I owe you: I can see how much you’ve done for my daughter.”

“‘Anarka’.” She put a hand on Mira’s mother’s shoulder. “One mother to another: it’s a privilege to know her, and you’re lucky to have a daughter like Mira.” She grinned. “And I can see where she gets her toughness from!”

“Oh, I know I’m lucky,” she agreed, pulling Mira into another hug.

Mira sighed in contentment, relaxing into her mother’s embrace. It had been four years since the last time her mother had hugged her. And while Anarka and the others were liberal with their praise and displays of affection, there was something… different… about a mother’s hug. “I love you,” she whispered again. Her mother squeezed her tighter, only to be interrupted by a sound from behind Mira’s back. She released her mother and turned.

Bengalia cleared her throat again and jerked her head toward the Deacon, who had finally started to stir, trying to push himself up from the ground. “What do we do about this guy?”

Mira transformed again and drew her naginata, but her mother placed a hand on her wrist. Her eyes glowing, her mother strode over to the Deacon and knelt next to him. “Take his weapons,” Hato Gozen told her. “The chi-putty and bolas.”

Quickly her mother searched him, removing his chi-enhanced tools. “Now you are going to tell us what we want to know,” her mother informed him quietly. “Or else this will get messy.”

The Deacon spat in her face. “Do your worst, miraculous abuser,” he retorted, glaring hatefully at her. “I will never talk to the likes of you! I would never betray my comrades!”

Ryoku and Viperion both crossed the distance to stand over him, their arms folded. “Oh, I think you’ll talk,” Ryoku told him, her mouth set in a thin line. “You would be amazed what a little water manipulation can do to a human body…”

He grinned manically. “It doesn’t matter what a miraculous abuser like you does! I won’t talk to you!”

Viperion hummed contemplatively, stroking his chin. “We’ll see.” Hato Gozen cocked her head in surprise on hearing the sound of a police siren from down the street. “I called them already,” Viperion explained, not taking his eyes off the Deacon. “Perhaps you are not willing to speak now,” he allowed. “But I have a feeling that after a few weeks behind bars, you will be more interested in talking to us. For now, however–” the sirens intensified as a police car stopped on the side of the road and the officers approached them.

The officer stopped a short distance from them, a frown on his face. Hato Gozen walked over to him and smiled. “Thank you for coming,” she greeted him in Russian.

“You don’t look like the Geroi Moskvy…” the officer commented.

“The who?” she wondered, cocking her head in confusion. “No we are the Heroes of Paris,” she explained.

“Yes, yes, the other guy explained it all,” he told her dismissively. “I’m to take this guy in, and your… Pegasus may need to interrogate him at some point?”

Hato Gozen nodded. “Thank you. Now be sure to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t try anything…”

As the officers cuffed the Deacon and led him away, the Deacon took one last, angry look back at Hato Gozen and the others. “You will see me again,” he promised them.

Finally the police car was gone, taking the Deacon with it. Hato Gozen let out a breath and turned back to her mother. “I can’t believe we arrested him!”

“I’m only too happy to help!” her mother assured her, smiling. “It’s the least I could do – especially after what happened to the Geroi Moskvy.” Hato Gozen cocked her head in confusion. “They are the ‘Heroes of Moscow’,” her mother explained, a troubled look in her eye. “They helped me out last night and today… though one gave his life so I could escape from the Bat.”

Miss Pinky let out a gasp. “That’s so horrible!”

Hato Gozen’s mother nodded seriously. “It is. And yet… if he hadn’t, I don’t know if I would have gotten away.”

“Well, I am thankful for him,” Hato Gozen decided, hugging her mother again.

Viperion folded his arms and frowned. “All of this leads to another question,” he pointed out. “What are your plans now, ma’am?”

Hato Gozen’s mother frowned. “I could go back into hiding…” she suggested, though without putting any force behind her words.

Hato Gozen’s eyes widened. “But I only just found you again!”

Viperion arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay here alone, anyways,” he pointed out. “The Bat already found you once on your own; he could do it again.”

Hato Gozen’s mother nodded heavily. “You may be right about that,” she agreed, looking down at the grass where the Deacon had lain. “But that’s the nature of things: once a Dove retires, we pass on the miraculous and stay out of our daughter’s way. What else is there?”

Hato Gozen’s heart sunk. “But I only just got you back!”

“You can come and stay with us in Paris!” Miss Pinky suggested, beaming excitedly.

Her mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “I… hadn’t really even considered that,” she admitted. “If I could…”

Anarka grinned and put a hand on Hato Gozen’s mother’s shoulder. “You’re always welcome to stay on my boat! We can open up a bunk for you and Mira!”

“I may take you up on that.” Her mother nodded, smiling warmly.

Hato Gozen frowned, arching an eyebrow. “With everyone else, you don’t really have any extra bunks, though,” she pointed out. Turning to her mother, she added, “Why don’t you stay at the Mansion where I’ve been living?”

Anarka shrugged. “It’s up to you where you go, but you’ll always have a place with us! After all, you’re family!”

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Chapter Text

For the first time in nearly 100 years, Night Bat took a swig of vodka, swishing it around in his mouth several times before swallowing. The liquid burned his throat as it went down, warming his insides even as it threatened to dull his senses. But, then, after their failure today, he could use some deadening of his senses.

Over the many years of his life, Night Bat had suffered numerous defeats and setbacks. The destruction of his village while he was away fighting the hated Magyars had been the first failure, but by no means the last. Losing control over Wallachia so soon after taking its throne had stung bitterly. Many of those defeats had come at the hands of the Doves, of course; that first Dove, with her foolish meddling, had nearly enabled a full-on invasion of Europe – only Night Bat’s own intervention at Lechfeld had prevented a full Magyar conquest. Since then, the Doves had been a perennial thorn in his side. But never had he come as close to defeating the Doves as he had been today.

If he had only managed to capture Olivet, he could have used her to draw Hato Gozen into a trap and taken her miraculous. Even without capturing Olivet, he had still succeeded in luring Hato Gozen and her friends into a trap. Had she been alone, he would have defeated her. Even with Ryoku, his planning should have enabled him to defeat them both. But she and her allies had outmaneuvered him, an outcome that was becoming far too prevalent for Night Bat’s taste.

The cheap vodka burned as it ran down his throat, and he stuck out his tongue in distaste.

The plan had been almost entirely flawless. Hato Gozen had attacked him almost immediately, giving Cerna and the Bearator an opportunity to ambush her and her allies. The Dark Acolytes had taken perfect advantage of their cover, capturing three of the miraculous users. Even with the interference of that woman who had come with them, it should only have been a matter of time before the Prior and his two protégés managed to neutralize all of Hato Gozen’s allies. But with Olivet’s intervention, the Miraculous heroes had been rescued from the Dark Acolytes’ chi-putty and bolas. As soon as that had happened, the writing had been on the wall: they could not win. Night Bat’s lips curved down into a frown. This particular Dove had proven far too capable of wriggling out of his traps.

After retreating from their fight with the Heroes, Night Bat had doubled back twice to ensure that the Heroes were not pursuing them. Only once he had been satisfied that the Heroes would not interfere had he finally returned to Krysinoye Logovo with the Prior and the others. The Deacon had been left behind – he had not been able to escape. The Prior had only barely gotten away. The Bearator sat in one corner of the room, holding a dirty dish rag to his bleeding forearm, wincing in pain. A bottle of vodka sat next to him on the table, with which he had soaked the rag before using it as a bandage. Serp had taken one look at them when they walked through his door and made himself scarce, muttering something about needing to prepare for the night’s rush in the kitchen.

“Keep your arm still, Tanja,” the Deaconess chided, carefully tying a cloth around Cerna’s sprained wrist. “If you didn’t squirm so much, I’d already be finished.”

Cerna groaned and let out a hiss. “Miss Pinky packs a punch,” she grumbled, glaring down at the floor.

“I know what you mean,” the Deaconess agreed, frowning. “I’m pretty sure my entire chest is one big bruise by now…”

Cerna quirked an eyebrow at her. “I thought the idea was to avoid getting kicked by them!”

The Deaconess glared at her halfheartedly. “I was trying to avoid them.” She furrowed her brows, a troubled look in her eyes. “The two women who were fighting with them…” she began slowly.

“What about them?”

She pursed her lips. “It’s strange: apparently they were the miraculous users’ mothers.” She paused, measuring her words carefully. “Olivet was a miraculous user herself, so I guess it makes sense. But the other one wasn’t – as far as we know, at least. And yet they were not just okay with their kids using miraculous, but they were proud of them. They called them ‘heroes’!”

Cerna shrugged, wincing as it tweaked her wrist. “So?”

The Deaconess sat back and grabbed one of the water glasses on the table. Eyeing the smudges doubtfully, she emptied it in a single long gulp. “So my whole life I’ve been taught that miraculous are evil: they disrupt the balance of the universe, so they shouldn’t be used. And the people who use them…”

“Hmmm?” Cerna arched an eyebrow at her pointedly.

The Deaconess grimaced. “Present company excepted, of course,” she amended. “It’s just… how can they be doing something so terrible, endangering the universe by meddling with forces that humans shouldn’t be touching, and yet their mother says she’s ‘proud’?” She gave her a helpless look. “They have people who care about them…”

Cerna sat quietly, sipping on her own water glass. “It must be nice for them. Having a parent who loves them so much, I mean.”

“Yeah…” The Deaconess looked down at the table and sighed heavily.

Night Bat swirled the vodka around in his glass, listening to them talk. He frowned. After working with these Dark Acolytes for almost a full year, he had thought he understood them: they despised the miraculous because they represented a power denied to the Dark Acolytes. That was simple. It was understandable. It was a greed which Night Bat could manipulate for his own purposes. And yet, this particular protégé of the Prior belied that categorization. Would that make her a potential new replacement for the Prior, easier to manipulate due to her naiveté? Or would it make her a dangerous potential traitor?

Either way, she could yet prove useful.

On the far side of the bar, the Bearator continued to sit quietly, staring into the corner, holding his rag to the cut on his arm. Carefully he peeled it away, examining the blood on the rag and the cut on his forearm. He stretched his arm out, opening and closing his hand as he did so. Finally he grabbed the vodka and took a swig straight from the bottle. He choked on it and nearly spat it out, gagging on the cheap alcohol.

The Prior collapsed onto the barstool next to Night Bat and fixed him with a penetrating stare. “You lost.”

“And you state the obvious.”

“And because we lost,” the Prior persisted, “Felipe was arrested. That is unacceptable.”

“I agree,” replied Night Bat ominously, giving him a pointed look. “Would he divulge anything about us to the authorities? If he would, there are solutions…”

The Prior scoffed. “Of course he would never betray our confidences!” he insisted. “My people are trained better than that.”

Night Bat raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “In twelve centuries, I have yet to meet a person who couldn’t be broken under the right circumstances.”

The Prior’s mouth set in a thin line. “You had yet to meet any Dark Acolytes before last year. But all the same, we cannot just leave him in their hands.”

“I can arrange that,” Night Bat assured him, his eyes lighting up with malice. He still had contacts within Bratva. And to put the arrogant bastard in his place…

“Good.” The Prior folded his arms. “What will it take to break him out of prison?”

Night Bat raised an eyebrow. “I have no intention of breaking him out of prison.”

The Prior cocked his head in confusion. “You are not–” His eyes widened. “Surely you are not going to–”

“Of course I will,” retorted Night Bat. “If we cannot leave him in their custody, this is the choice.”

“What about getting him out?”

“Good luck with that,” Serp interjected, sticking his head out the kitchen door. “According to the police radio, they brought their prisoner to a special facility under heavy guard. Sounds like he tried to resist arrest.”

“You see?” asked Night Bat, suppressing his amusement. “Out will only happen in a box.”

The Prior folded his arms, a furious look on his face. “You are not to murder my people,” he warned.

Night Bat smirked. “You may take it up with the Lynchpin at your convenience,” he informed him. “Perhaps our ‘esteemed patron’ will condescend to have your least effective protégé released from prison. But I would not expect such favors after a failure.”

Your failure!” the Prior shot back.

His failure,” Night Bat corrected him. “Had the Deacon not failed, he would be here now.” The Prior muttered something under his breath. “Enough,” Night Bat announced gravely, shooting the Prior a severe look. “We must consider the bigger picture. The Deacon failed today. We failed today. Olivet clearly has connected with the Heroes of Paris, so she is now out of our reach. Consequently, our purpose here has been served. Certainly by now she and the Heroes are all in Paris, so now it is time for us to return. We will have another chance to defeat these ‘heroes’ and seize their miraculous.”

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Chapter Text

“And so then I wondered, what is there in Bulgaria that the Bat might be interested in and that’s when it hit me: the leader of that Turkish independence group was supposed to be hiding in Varna! I didn’t find the Bat there, but he was in a small village just outside.”

Claire chuckled, listening to Mira recount the story. She had heard on the radio about the unexplained thunderstorm just outside of Varna, Bulgaria, only a few months after she and Mira had parted at the airport. At the time, she had made a guess that the Bat had been responsible, though she’d had no way of confirming it. Over the last four years, she had read the papers religiously, looking for any hint of where Mira or the Bat might be. She had waited with bated breath for every new postcard from “Pacha, her globetrotting pen pal.” And now?

Now she could listen to all of the war stories over breakfast, just the way she had sometimes dreamed.

“You should have seen her, Claire!” chirped Paxx, popping a grape into her mouth. “The way she infiltrated the compound to get close enough to Calm him… it was innovative.”

Claire hummed, raising an eyebrow at Mira in invitation. “What did you do?”

Mira flushed. “I realized that I couldn’t just burst through the front door – the Kiss had progressed so far that he had started getting violent to anyone who got close,” she explained. “So instead I snuck into a new dumpster that was being delivered. Paxx watched outside and hit the button so the dumpster got knocked off the truck just inside the compound. While they tried to sort it out, I transformed, slipped out of the dumpster, and was up the side of the roof before they knew what was happening.”

Claire nodded judiciously. “Clever, though it could easily have gone wrong.”

“Yeah…” admitted Mira. “But I figured I was at least fast enough to get away if I needed to.” She shuddered. “The worst part was when I actually got into the house and had to pretend to be a maid to talk my way past the head butler. My Bulgarian wasn’t that great, so all I could do was say, ‘Da sur’ a bunch of times and wait for him to let me pass!”

“Did I ever tell you about my trip to Hungary?” Claire asked, laughing. “I don’t know what it was, but I just couldn’t figure out the language to save my life!”

Paxx cocked her head. “But you were only there for three days on the way to Bosnia,” she pointed out.

Mira suppressed a giggle as the Agreste Mansion’s spacious dining room began to fill up with more people and more noise.

“So what are you going to do today?” Claire asked Mira.

She pursed her lips. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Most mornings I read a lot – Emilie has a ton of books about miraculous that I’ve been working my way through. Sometimes I sit at the security desk to do it.” Claire cocked her head in confusion. “M. Agreste was really paranoid, so the mansion has a pretty serious security system built in,” Mira explained. “And considering that it’s the headquarters for the Heroes of Paris now, I don’t think anyone really complains about it!” She frowned. “But that’s not every day. Some days I go to see Anarka and Luka while the others are in school… And now I have you here, too…”

Claire put her hand on Mira’s and smiled. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she assured her. “You don’t have to rearrange your life for me.”

Mira’s jaw clenched and unclenched, her lips turning down. “But after four years… I want to spend time with you, Mom.”

Claire’s smile brightened. “And I want to spend time with you, too!” She hummed. “What if we see about going to the Couffaines’ after lunch?” she suggested. “I’d like to see how Anarka’s doing.”

Mira let out a relieved breath. “That sounds great!” She gave Claire a look of curiosity. “So what do you want to do this morning?”

Claire furrowed her brows. “After yesterday… I think I want to rest a little,” she admitted. “So I may just return to my room for a couple hours.”

Mira shrugged. “I might read in the library for a while.”

“Could I join you there later?”

“Of course!”

After finishing her ham, egg, and cheese croissant, Claire left the dining room as another couple people entered. In the library across from the dining room she could see Mira sitting in an armchair, Paxx perched on the bookcase next to her, a book open in her lap. Claire climbed the stairs and stopped at the top, examining the tall office doors curiously before continuing down the hallway toward her newly-assigned room. After the small, cozy apartment that she had rented in Moscow, the sheer amount of space in this mansion was almost overwhelming. And after living quietly by herself for four years, to have so many people around with whom to interact on a daily basis…

“Perhaps… but are you sure Claire is the best option?”

Claire paused on hearing her own name coming from the room just ahead of her. Poking her head around the doorframe, she cocked her head curiously on seeing Emilie sitting in one of two rough wooden chairs arrayed in the middle of the room between two beds, on one of which lay a smaller Chinese man with a burnt-orange Kwami resting on his shoulder. Claire hadn’t met him before, but Mira had described Master Fu on their way to the mansion the previous night.

Emilie turned and beamed at her brightly, as a royal blue Kwami sprang into the air with a wide grin on his face. Emilie snatched the Kwami out of the air and beckoned Claire into the room. “Claire! Just the person we wanted to talk to!”

“Come in, come in.” Fu waved her over to the other chair and gestured toward the teapot sitting on the table with several teacups.

“I didn’t mean to intrude, but I heard my name,” began Claire, pouring herself a cup of the light green tea.

“There’s a question that we’ve been trying to answer for the last seven months,” Emilie explained. “Almost as long as I’ve been awake, in face.”

“Oh?”

“How much do you know about the miraculous?” asked Fu, stroking his goatee.

Claire shrugged. “Sorry, but not very much. I know they’re really old,” she replied. “According to Paxx, they were created by a mage in the days of Atlantis. I knew about the Dove and Bat – and I guess now I know that there are more than just the two. Other than that…”

Emilie chuckled. “None of that is incorrect,” she agreed. “There is a little more to it than that, but there were some gaps in all of our knowledge when we began this.”

Fu hummed contemplatively. “And how many of the Kwamis have you met?”

“So far, Paxx is the only one I know,” she answered. “A few of Mira’s friends’ Kwamis introduced themselves: Longg, Sass, Roaar, um, Daizzi… Then there were a few others at breakfast this morning – was that the Ladybug and Cat?” She frowned. “What is this about?”

“There are five Miraculous Sets,” Emilie explained. “The kids – my kids, I mean: Cat Noir and Ladybug, or Adrien and Marinette – have made connections with the other Orders of Guardians to work out how we are going to cooperate together. Four Orders of Guardians for the five Miraculous Sets. Fu and I have been working to rebuild the Asian Order of the Guardians for about six months now, and we’ve grown to include my sister as a Novice and another boy as an Initiate.”

“What we were discussing this morning,” Fu added, suppressing a cough, “is whether you would be interested in becoming a Guardian.”

Claire frowned. “I don’t know…” she began, pursing her lips. “That’s never really been part of my skill set. And how would that work? Would I have to be part of your group? Even though I retired as a miraculous holder, if anything I really would like to help my own daughter with her mission.”

Fu smiled. “This would not conflict with that goal,” he told her. “In fact, this might even facilitate it. Would you be willing to take responsibility for the Atlantean Miraculous? After the destruction of Atlantis, the Atlantean Miraculous Set became separated and scattered across the world.”

“Paxx had explained that much,” Claire told him, nodding.

“The Atlantean Miraculous have begun to resurface,” continued Fu. “Or more than they had previously. We and the other Orders of Guardians had discussed them in the past and decided to incorporate them into our own sets as we discover them. However, since then more of them have appeared, and I think it would be prudent to consider reviving the Atlantean Order of the Guardians.”

Claire sat back in her chair, eyes widening in surprise. “I… don’t know,” she admitted. “That is an awesome responsibility.”

Emilie smiled sympathetically. “It really is,” she agreed, nodding. “When I woke up, I didn’t realize other miraculous even existed beyond the two my family had guarded for most of two centuries. Since then I’ve had to meet and familiarize myself with all the Asian Kwamis, along with the miraculous holders that Ladybug and Cat Noir have chosen. There was certainly a learning curve, but I am glad I chose to do it.”

“Then where are all of these Atlantean Miraculous?” Claire asked.

“In part, that’s an easy enough question to answer,” Emilie replied. “In addition to Mira and the Dove, the Asian Order of the Guardians has found and taken responsibility for three of them. The Goose and Shark–”

“–as well as the Narwhal,” Fu interjected, indicating his own Kwami. “Meet Kheaa.”

Claire nodded to the Kwami, who dipped his head in greeting.

Emilie nodded. “Lynchpin–”

“‘Lynchpin’?”

“The person Night Bat works for,” explained Emilie. “His group has another two Atlantean Miraculous, in addition to the stolen Bear and Bee: the Eel and Reindeer.”

“I met the Reindeer holder in Moscow,” Claire acknowledged, grimacing.

Emilie hummed. “There are only two more that we’ve found so far,” she finished. “The Lynx – one of the American miraculous holders found it here in Paris, but it’s in Peru now. And then the Dhole is at the Somali temple with the African Order of the Guardians. There are more out there, but we haven’t gotten a straight answer yet from the Kwamis about how many or which or where.” She gave Kheaa a pointed look.

The Kwami shrugged. “It’s not up to me. You’ll have to ask Carro. But I think she wants to wait until her counterpart has resurfaced and she can consult with her.”

Fu patted the Kwami’s head, running a finger down his back. “We understand,” he assured him. “We only hope to be able to protect your brothers and sisters from misuse.”

“So, what do you think?” Emilie asked, turning to Claire and raising an eyebrow.

Claire hummed, furrowing her brows in thought. This was an awesome responsibility they were proposing – far greater than any that she had been given before. Doves, after all, normally worked alone. But at the same time, “Night Bat” was still in possession of the Bat Miraculous. And if she were able to guide a team of other Atlantean Miraculous holders, how might that put Mira in a position to finally end their centuries-long rivalry?

“I will be happy to assist you in brewing the power-up potions for the Kwamis,” Fu offered. “From what your daughter has said, that was never included in your training.”

Pursing her lips in thought, Claire finally cleared her throat. “That does sound intriguing,” she allowed. “Especially if this will give me more of an opportunity to help Mira in her mission to stop the Bat.”

Fu nodded. “We will have to consult with the other Orders first,” he warned. “But for now we can begin your Guardian training as part of the Asian Order of the Guardians temporarily – in preparation for the time when you can take responsibility for the Atlantean Miraculous.”

“I hope you enjoy learning,” Emilie told her, beaming. “There is a lot we’ll have to cover together.” She glanced over at Fu and smirked mirthfully. “But I think the review will be helpful for us as well!”

Claire gave them both a small smile. After so long on her own, the prospect of actually working with other people – of actually seeking out other people to be around – felt almost foreign. But now she was living in the same city, and even the same house, as Mira. She could see Paxx almost every day again – she could see Mira all the time again! And she had a new purpose and a new role in her family’s long battle to bring the Bat to justice and free Bella from his abuse. “When do we begin?”

Chapter 16: Epilogue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Nochnoy Storozh rested his elbows on the small old table in the kitchenette, staring down at the glass that Koldunya had put in front of him, filled with some dark liquid. It had been close to a day since the fight. They had escaped out the back from their (old) headquarters, into the alley on the other side of the building. Down the way had been another stairway to another basement, and they had raced down the stairs and crouched below the street level. Though it had almost taken more power than she possessed, Koldunya had levitated a dumpster off the ground just enough for him to slide it over the opening, covering it entirely. Then they had waited, with Nochnoy Storozh looking out through the opening for Svyatogor or Claire to follow them. But they hadn’t. Instead, the next person they had seen had been one of those robed figures, who had walked calmly up the stairs from their headquarters, looked up and down the alley once, and climbed back down, shutting the door behind him. Koldunya had sat down, crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and remained motionless for a moment while Nochnoy Storozh continued to watch. Finally, she had stirred and crept up behind him. She nodded quietly and slid the dumpster aside, beckoning him to follow. That was when they had cautiously snuck back to their headquarters.

Svyatogor had lain in the middle of the room, surrounded by a pool of his own blood with three claw marks stabbed through his chest. Nochnoy Storozh had felt for a pulse, but even as he did so, he had known it was in vain. The rest of the room had been utterly destroyed, the furniture in pieces and debris strewn all around. The remains of their computer had been swept around as though someone had combed through it, and the hard drive was missing. A small blue bag – Olivet’s – had been pushed into a far corner near the wreckage of a sofa, and Koldunya had picked it up. Olivet herself had been nowhere to be seen.

The police had questioned them for an hour once they finally arrived. Nochnoy Storozh had explained what had happened and described their attackers, to which the police sergeant had nodded. Koldunya had given them Svyatogor’s name, and the police sergeant had promised to notify his fiancée before dismissing them. Nochnoy Storozh’s jaw clenched. It should have been him making that call… but he couldn’t do it. He had been there, only to flee when the fight got difficult. Did that make him a coward? Even if his decision to retreat didn’t make him a coward, the fact that he couldn’t face Svyatogor’s fiancée probably did. But instead of fulfilling his responsibility, he sat in this apartment that Koldunya had rented as a temporary base, staring at the glass, unable to bring himself to drink it.

Finally he found his voice. “We shouldn’t have left.”

Koldunya let out a heavy sigh and raised an eyebrow. “If we had stayed, would it have made a difference?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe all four of us could have fought them off together and Svyatogor wouldn’t have died.”

“Or we would all have been killed, and not just him,” she pointed out.

“I would rather have done that than just abandon him…” he retorted, frowning.

She hummed. “But is that what he would have wanted?” she asked. “He wanted us to escape, to carry on. So that’s what we’ll have to do.”

“I guess so…” He sighed. “It just sucks to lose a friend, and especially in this way.”

She nodded. “That’s what makes us heroes. We want to help other people – we want to stop the bad guys and protect the innocent. That’s what we did.” She swallowed. “That’s what he did.”

Nochnoy Storozh picked up his glass and clinked it against Koldunya’s. “To Svyatogor. The bravest man I ever knew.” The dark liquor burned down his throat, and he coughed, smacking his chest.

“His sacrifice saved us,” Koldunya agreed, taking a sip of her own drink. “It saved Olivet, too.”

Nochnoy Storozh scoffed. “Did it?”

“We didn’t find her there…”

“She did say they wanted her alive, though.” He frowned doubtfully. “And even if she did escape, did it really save her, or did it just delay the inevitable? She was still alone in Moscow with the bad guys hot on her heels.” His shoulders slumped. “Exactly how I found her…”

“She did get away,” Koldunya insisted, her mouth set in a thin line.

“How do you know?”

She let out a forlorn breath, hunching forward over her glass and staring into its depths. “Because if she didn’t, then Svyatogor really did die for nothing.”

Nochnoy Storozh raised an eyebrow as the cell phone on the table between them rang. Cautiously he picked it up and answered. “Privet.” [“Hello”]

“Are you the Geroi Moskvy?” an unfamiliar voice asked in English.

Nochnoy Storozh cocked his head suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”

Something whooshed behind him, and he spun around as a portal opened in the middle of the apartment’s small living room. Three figures stepped out, one of whom held a dark brown shape to his ear. The call ended as he reattached the object to a horseshoe which he placed on his back. “Some new friends,” he replied, smirking. He jerked his head to the young woman to his left. “I’m Pegasus, and this is Sent-Bee. And I think you already know–”

“Olivet!” Koldunya interrupted him, jumping to her feet. She gave Olivet a brief hug and stepped back, examining her carefully. “You are alive! And with the, um, Heroes of Paris!”

“After we found Svyatogor, we feared the worst,” Nochnoy Storozh interjected, standing up also.

Olivet nodded, her lips curving up into a hint of a smile that quickly vanished. “I am, thanks to you… and thanks to Svyatogor, also. My daughter was in the city looking for me,” she explained. “Svyatogor’s sacrifice allowed me to escape, and I found her.”

Koldunya sighed in relief. “I am glad to hear that.”

“I’m–I’m sorry about Svyatogor,” Olivet began hesitantly, looking down. “He died honorably and bravely, but… I wish I could have saved him.”

Nochnoy Storozh crossed the room and took her hand. “He would have been content, knowing his sacrifice was not in vain.” He turned to Pegasus and Sent-Bee. “Thank you for coming, and for letting us know that Olivet was okay.”

“You are welcome,” Pegasus replied.

Sent-Bee grinned. “It was the least we could do.”

Koldunya cocked her head, staring at them suspiciously. “That is not the only reason you came, though.”

Sent-Bee’s grin grew wider. “No, it is not. We’re here to talk to you about joining the Heroes of Europe.”

Notes:

The next story up will focus more on the Heroes of Paris, as well as pull back the curtain a little for “The Colossus Saga.” First up, however, will be a couple “Dispatches” and another “SLD Case Report.”