Chapter 7
Damien had read novels, biographies, scientific journals, and the like, where it had concerned someone’s Presentation. The pains a person’s body went through as the changes that occurred by way of heightened senses or the discovery of new bodily functions (after all, sexual organs were a pain even during typical puberty, let alone one’s Presentation). The need for community whether by family or friends or animals, the heightened rush of emotions for said community or of items obtained through one's own means or by gifting from their community.
The new chemical balances within someone’s structure.
He had certainly read upon the discomfort, his own tutors had advised him in such lessons for his future presentation: a Strong Alpha, a Collected Beta, or a Cunning Omega.
They had informed him of the discomfort Alphas went through: their aggression, the snapping at pack members of the same secondary gender, of the head of the household needing to place such members into their place, their need to guard the more vulnerable of their pack.
They had informed him of the Betas: experiencing a swirl of discomfort as their body decided what best way to connect between the genders, becoming a bridge between the communities, their senses not as prominent but their position needed (vital even), of continuing their legacies far more successfully than their fellow genders.
They had informed him of the Omegas, oh so doubted by modern society but who historians knew governed the old world, of Omegas gaining the most heightened senses comparable to a godling, of needed decisions within a pack of which members would suit them or not, of who was threat and not.
He had learnt it all and still the discomfort was unbearable; his whines and whimpers slipping out as he reached for his family, his new inner omega soothed by the scent of his sister, some pain easing away by comforting croons and purrs, his fever cooled by way of waters and chilled rags. His alphan mother guarded the nest as his beta father brought food and water, his omegan sister washing away the sweat from his brow.
Three long torturous days finally completed, his body and mind exhausted; the shower he took on trembling legs was a relief to the system, cool water washing over as days of sweat and blood swirled down the drain and away to the Parisian sewer system.
An omega…he was an omega now, his nose able to pick apart his scent that suited the pack he was in, a tentative purr rumbling in his chest at the mere thought.
Marinette smelled faintly distressed the whole time, he recalled as he scrubbed the shampoo into his oily locks; at the time, he believed it was due to his Presentation. She had been distressed since the beginning of the week after all. But now he felt it was due to something else, something related to the latest villain.
It certainly hadn’t helped that the villain had been Dr. Thompkins.
But ever since then, he hadn’t seen much of the Cat side of the Parisian heroes; certainly, he had strong opinions in regard towards the Cat for his lack of professionalism, but that was likely due to little actual authority taking the reins to train the pair, instead, letting them run amuck. And for all the Cat’s faults, he hadn’t been absent. Lacking during a fight, certainly, very often joking or taking the chance to ease tensions by, inappropriately, flirting even when unreciprocated, but he had been there.
Ladybug had been avoiding publicity, preferring to keep to the shadows, her Ladybug red costume had no reason to blend so well in, keeping her hidden away on Paris’ rooftops.
A knock shook him from his thoughts, Sabine’s voice asking if he were alright-had he been some time? - before he reassured his pack alpha, he was very much alright.
The simple kindness, so thoughtlessly given, still shook him the core of his being.
As he opened the door in his fresh clothes, his scent glands exposed to help the developing process, he couldn’t help the timid, rumbling purr that escaped as the scent of pack surrounded him.
~
“Bruce, we need to talk.”
This was…not a time he wanted to talk, especially to Leslie Thompkins Auntie Leelee, but he knew this was a long time coming. After the reveal of the truth, fruitless searches, and more than one berating speech from those closest to him, Bruce was not exactly looking forward to one of his longest known friends guardians coming to talk about the situation with him.
And if anyone had any basis for being upset, it was her.
When Damien had first arrived, the toxic clutches of the League still hooked into his very soul, he had turned to the Doctor for some assistance. He hadn’t been the easiest child and he recalled how wonderful she had been with Jason; he had hoped she could work her magic.
From what he had heard, but not seen, she had. Through her and Dick, Damien had gentled from his anger, his pup scent no longer soured though he was never happy to be around all of them.
(And why would he? They had never truly welcomed him, scented him, made him into pack. Now even Timothy missed his younger brother, one of Damien’s old shirts a part of the nest Timothy had kept scarce of any of Damien’s scent. Dick’s scent was absent through sheer stubbornness, but you didn’t need to smell him to scent the distress.)
Leslie entered into his office, her eyes flashing with hostility that deeply reminded him that the Beta had stepped up into a mothering role and now she was here to discipline her pup. “Bruce Thomas Wayne,” she snarled, the light mint and lavender of her scent sharpening to a medicinal level, sharp and harsh, “not only have you lost your pup, you allowed two superhero teenagers to galivant around in Paris with no supervision?! What happened to you? Youknow better, you are better than this!”
“Leslie, please, we’re already-wait, superheroes in Paris? What are you talking about?”
“Children are off fighting some maniac in the heart of Paris, Bruce, children. I was taken over and just,” she shook her head, gazing outside as if looking towards Paris, “Bruce, I talked with the people there. They’ve been dealing with this for over a year. A year, Bruce.” Gazing back at the shocked vigilante, a frown twists her lips further down. “You didn’t know.”
“No…No I didn’t. Diana hasn’t been in Paris in some time and no reports have reached the team.”
Leslie wasn’t one to lie, not after all the years she spent dealing with Crime Alley and any bullshit Bruce brought into her life, she’s dealt with enough to not need to do this to add onto his well-deserved guilt.
The conversation lecturewas difficult for both sides to have, with Alfred eventually stepping in with much needed tea and food for the three to have. When did life become like this, when did he become like this?
He had once looked at Harleen Quinzel, when she had been allowed her release before circumstance caused her to jump right back into Arkham, and told her he had bad days too, that he understood her on some level…
Where had that side of him gone?When Jason was executed and all those who loved him prevented him from murdering that psychotic clown.
“If some fanatic is using people’s negative emotions to gain control to decimate Paris in the quest to obtain these magical objects, it’s safe to say that we need to step in. With no ability towards a healthy lifestyle, those of Paris may soon fall to this megalomaniac.” Alfred shook his head, frowning, “I must admit, the object sounds vaguely familiar, but when I knew of such an item during the war efforts, it was used on the side of positive or aggressive emotions, not of anger or sadness.”
Bruce nods, frowning, “And you say that, looking back to the footage, you had found Damien?”
“Yes, my…ah, I believe they called it an Akuma form? I don’t know, when I was changed I had apparently found some trail towards where Damien was, but I was defeated by the duo that guarded Paris, any memories tying back towards those moments are lost to me.” Leslie admitted. “If what happened is true and not that megalomaniac’s attempt to trick me, then two issues are in Paris that concern us: teenage superheroes left without guidance with a megalomaniac on their hands, and Damien’s whereabouts.”
~
“Again!”
Marinette groans, glaring at her brother where he twirled his wooden bo-staff, the plight of his Presentation long gone. She stood back up, grasping her own bo-staff once more as she got into the starting stance he had been training her to do; Damien, it seems, was very focused on returning back to his old talents and had roped her into cleaning up the dusty bakery basement into something of a functional sparring studio.
“You’re throwing your center off, Marinette,” tapping at her feet, she moved where her ‘teacher’ dictated they needed to go, “there, remember, the bo-staff differs from a sword or knife. It isn’t an extension of your arm; this works more as an assistant than anything. And you are not ready for a sword or knife yet.”
He knew she could fence, but fencing was far different than wielding the katana Damien possessed in his room.
He displayed the forms once more, urging her to relax and take control, to think of it as a creative aspect of herself. She could create any design her mind could conjure, bring it to life in almost magical ways, and the bo-staff needed that form of confidence for her training to get better.
She knew her brother felt something was off with her, even with his lack of understanding when it came to the concept of emotions.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t insist upon scenting her each morning when she left for school. His own way of displaying affection.
And now another way, through combat.
It wasn’t like she didn’t want to talk about it, especially when she saw how sad Adrien was at school without Plagg. His small smile when he received an almond croissant didn’t help her fading crush, but it did help quale her need to comfort her friend too much and gain Lila’s ire. When she had finally asked Plagg why, the kwami admitted it was because Gabriel was beginning to suspect and ask questions Adrien had grown nervous about, finally deciding to give Plagg up rather than for the kwami to end up in Gabriel’s clutches as a punishment or something.
Gabriel Agreste took another bit of happiness away from Adrien, but Adrien had thought of Paris’ safety through it all, a protector of Paris through it all.
So as much as it sucked having her ass handed to her by her little brother, it was very much appreciated.
Towards lunchtime, she suggested they go out to the cat cafe she had seen last patrol. Damien attempted to show his excitement, but the boy was just as much of an animal lover as she was.
~
Jason couldn’t remember much before the League, but he didn’t need to.
Master Ra’s Al Ghul helped him to remember.
Helped him heal.
Helped him train to be stronger.
Helped him to remember his anger.
It took years to develop himself into a skilled enough assassin that the Master and his daughter to be proud of, gaining knowledge the League kept to themselves as well as the few memories that surfaced from his previous life. Language and reading came easily enough, faint memories of a huge library tickling at his mind whenever he would read some of his preferred novels, but it had been history and science that he had struggled with.
Regardless, he could now formulate the exact needed ingredients to create a viable poison that would go undetected by most modern-day tests, or how to create a sleeping tonic that would keep its victims in a sleep like death for a few days.
Which is what he had on hand as he watched the two black haired children relax within some eating establishment. He didn’t know the master’s grandson too well, his brother, but he had been a brilliant jewel in the master’s eye, one that Bruce Wayne had foolishly left to tarnish.
(His memories when it concerned Bruce Wayne were differing.
On one end he wanted to be comforted by the older male, wanted to cry and feel as if he were the small child the other had adopted.
On the other, he wanted to decimate the alpha and destroy his lineage as he eliminated the deranged clown he allowed to frolic in his city as he spouted the sides of good and evil.)
Regardless, he had a mission set out and a target to acquire. He will obtain the boy and bring him back to his grandfather, and then Jason will be free to roam as he pleased, free to plan.
Dressed in his street attire, he slipped into the cafe the pair of black-haired teens had settled into, their table a perfect location to ensure no enemies to their back and all entrances and exits in their sights. Clever. Jason, however, had been trained for years and knew how to keep a nonchalant attitude about himself, keeping his posture loose and relaxed as he ordered in rough French, his American accent telling but at least the French was grammatically correct.
Eyes were on him, the pups sensing a predator when all the other lamb didn’t. He fought off the smirk that wanted to slip on his face, some weird emotion of pride curling in his chest; thwarting a rumble of satisfaction, the elder alpha settled at a table not too far off, sipping at the perfectly brewed cup of cappuccino, the chocolate croissant resting on a plate as he waited for the opportunity to present itself.
Except it never did.
~
Plagg smirks from Marinette’s bag, his beautiful Tikki trying to urge him from doing what he was about to do but listen. The kitten Tikki’s chosen had taken in would be a good holder, no doubt about it, he and Adrien were both very suitable holders and he’d forever miss his old buddy.
But this one?
This vicious creature so deeply ingrained into all that was bad luck and destruction? Oh, he was perfect. Resurrected twice now it seemed as well, from the pools that littered selected locations of the world, and the cat had been brought back twice.
“You cheesehead, get back here.” Tikki hissed, pulling him back by his scruff so no other human could see eyes peeking out of the Pinkie’s bag. “What are you doing, we need to be hiding!”
“We need to find a Black Cat holder,” he reminds her, aching to be near such a good and proper holder, “did you see him?! Tikki! He’s swimming in my energy, just like the Pinkie is swimming in yours!” He points out the brooding human, eyes tainted green so like cataclysm is almost shunned all the blue away. “He’s perfect, needs some help with his noodle, but he’d be perfect. We need him, we need that power to balance out Pinkie’s.”
Because at the end of the day, Damien and Adrien weren’t the perfect holders. Amazing? Yes, of course, both held elements of his destruction, could wield his abilities easily, outperforming any who did not have the inclination towards the Black Cat.
But Perfect? No, not quite.
Tikki had that reluctant expression over her face, the one that told him he was right but she didn’t like it. He knows she would prefer the kitten Marinette’s dad found weeks ago, but they had a perfect holder just in front of them now.
“...We need to talk to Marinette first, she’s The Guardian now.” She finally agreed, much to his satisfaction.