Chapter Text
The Gotham students stepped out of the airport and immediately had to squint against the sudden bright light of the mid-morning sun. Already the differences between Gotham and Paris were making themselves known causing every single Gothamite to scoff, laugh, and shake their heads at the Parisians' apparently unwarranted paranoia. There was absolutely no way Paris was more dangerous than Gotham. And yet for some strange reason the Parisian administrators of the International Friendship Conference petitioned to have the conference in Gotham? It was pure insanity.
Even the smallest child knew that having over a dozen schools from five different countries gather together in one place was a recipe for disaster in the city where the opening of a new bank could be the precursor for a terrorist attack. And yet Paris was insistent, that Gotham take its turn hosting the celebration, saying that it was “Too dangerous.” Everyone had laughed at that, literally. There was not a single Gothamite who had heard the news and not laughed. Even now driving the buss to their first location, even Damian “Ice Prince” Wayne was fighting an amused smirk and a soft chuckle, as his peers laughed at the naive and clueless Parisians walking the street below.
In Paris, the sun was shining. In Gotham, the sun barely ever broke through the smog and the rain. In Paris, pedestrians chatted amicably while walking at a leisurely pace. In Gotham, if you didn’t rush to your next location with your head down then you were asking to get mugged. In Paris, police directed traffic and waved to children. In Gotham, the police were always running from one armed robbery to another. Damian scoffed. Paris was like Metropolis, shiny and clean. Gotham was dark and dirty.
“It was probably a prank,” one of the Gotham High students said to his fellows. “You know a joke to get on our good side!”
“Ha!” one of the Gotham Academy students scoffed, “They should know that unlike Two-Face we don’t have a good side.” The bus was filled with laughter, and even Damian’s smirk twitched into a brief smile at the words.
It was no secret that the class divide in America's most dangerous city was as wide as the Grand Canyon. In fact, the only reason the students from the public high school were able to afford this trip was because of the Thomas and Martha Wayne Scholarship Foundation, which—among other opportunities, provided money for Gotham High Students to attend international trips with Gotham Academy. Damian could appreciate the elegance of the arrangement. The spoiled brats, that were unfortunately his peers, could jet off to Paris for the weekend whenever they wished and cared little for school functions where they could not display their wealth. But students from lower income families would probably never leave the city. So why not have them tag along on one of the prestigious rich school field trips where half of the students would opt out of going anyway?
Now, usually this meant that the trip was split into two very distinct groups with each side antagonizing the other, while Damian scowled in the middle. But whenever anyone said anything bag against their shared city, the class divide vanished. Suddenly they were one group united against the outsider who dared insinuate that Gotham was anything but superior in every way. So at that moment the bus was filled with rich and poor laughter as another student said,
“Can you imagine what would have happened if these people had actually come to Gotham!”
“They would’ve folded to Condiment King!”
Damian saw that even the chaperones were smiling softly at the front of the bus. They were probably predicting their easiest trip yet, and Damian found himself agreeing with them. He liked Paris. He had gone here on a mission with his mother. It had been one of the more pleasant ones, considering he had not had to kill anyone. And it was a beautiful city full of art, culture, and history, and since the class seemed to be united, Damian predicted a nice relaxing vacation with no troubles whatsoever. He found himself actually a little excited.
Eventually their laughter was cut off by the fact that they had arrived at their destination. Collège et Lycée Françoise Dupont was the host school for the conference, and they had requested that all of the attending schools participate in a brief assembly with their corresponding classes before going to their hotel and seeing the city. Damian’s class filled into a large classroom with teared desks facing a chalkboard with a projector in front of it. Two teachers were waiting for them. One was a stern looking woman with sharp features and sharp eyes, and the other was her exact opposite. One look and every Gothamite silently agreed, the second woman would not last two minutes in their home, while the first might last long enough to run screaming.
Damian found his way to the back of the class and glared at anyone who got too close, but he needn’t have bothered. The GA students knew him too well, and the GH students were subconsciously separating themselves from the “rich kids.” Once everyone settled the soft teacher cleared her throat and spoke in a sickly sweet voice that made all of the Gothamites cringe against the unfamiliarity of such a tone. No one in Gotham spoke with that level of cheer, unless they were brainwashed…or a villain…or a brain washed villain.
“Greetings everyone!” she said in English, “I am Mme. Caline Bustier, and this is Mme. Mendeleiev. We are the French chaperones for this trip. For the next week you will be partnered with our advanced English Class as you tour the sites and participate in other Conference activities. But before we begin, our class representative and her co-representative have prepared a little presentation to ensure that your time in Paris is as safe and as enjoyable as possible.”
The Gothamites snickered quietly as three girls entered the room each carrying a stack of binders which they stacked on the teacher’s desk at the front of the class. Damian narrowed his eyes at the three girls and found them…strange. They were just too different from each other and yet they moved together with familiarity. It didn’t make sense to him. First there was the blonde girl dressed almost entirely in yellow and black. With her perfect posture, designer clothes, and her narrowed eyes looking down her nose at everyone, she could easily fit right in among the Gotham Elite. Damian assumed that she would take the presenters position, but all she did was narrowly examine everyone with too knowing eyes and scoff, before sitting on the teachers desk and pulling out a nail file.
The second girl who entered the room, had all the appearance and attitude of a lacky. The first word that popped into Damian’s head was lapdog. But the demure girl with auburn hair and round glasses simply giggled at the first’s antics and took her position in front of the teachers with a confident yet shy smile.
That left the third girl. However, Damian did not get a good look at her before she glanced around the room, blushed, and promptly tripped over nothing sending all of her binders flying. The Gothamites snickered as the second girl rushed to help the third. Damian internally groaned at the blatant incompetence. But everyone was silenced by a sharp, “Hey!”
Everyone’s attention snapped to the first girl who was now glaring at them with the intensity of Poison Ivy when someone touched one of her plants. “If all you can do is laugh at someone when they fall, then you wont survive two minutes in Paris. Now apologize to my friend, and—”
“Chloe,” the third girl said and despite her flushed face and her nervously darting eyes her voice was clear and calm, and almost commanding despite the fact that it was also soft and melodic. “It’s ok. I’m not hurt, and it wasn’t their fault. It was an accident. Just take a breath, and help Sabrina pass out the binders. Please?”
The rich girl, Chloe, grumbled under her breath but obeyed (even if she slammed the binders in front of the students who had snickered). As this was happening, the clumsy girl brushed herself off and took her place in front and center. Now that Damian could examine her, he found that she was even more different than the other two, and he could not comprehend how she could have possibly commanded this Chloe. She was small, with black hair pulled back in pigtails like a five-year-old. Her bright bluebell eyes and blinding smile screamed innocence and naivety. Every single Gothamite thought the exact same thing,
“She would have died in Gotham.”
But despite her earlier clumsiness and the thoughts of the visitors, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Damian stared in fascination as a change came over the girl. Her posture straightened. Her shoulders squared. She lifted her head, and when she opened her eyes, there was nothing but confidence and clarity in them. Damian huffed in consideration and leaned back in his chair suddenly very interested in what this girl had to say as the other one, Sabrina placed his binder in front of him with a smile.
“Hello,” the girl up front said in near perfect English. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I am the class representative for Lycée Françoise Dupont Troisième Class. Or as you would say, sophomore year, same as all of you. This is my co-representative Sabrina Raincomprix.”
“Hello!” Sabrina waved as she took her place at the front of the class. “It’s nice to meat all of you. By the way this is our friend, Chloe Bourgeois. She’s a little overprotective.” Chloe just huffed and retook her seat on top of the desk, electing to ignore everyone else.
“Any way,” Marinette continued with that same blindingly bright smile. “Due to the current state of Paris, we felt it only fair to walk you through a ‘How to Survive Paris Crash Course’ before the conference gets into full swing.” The Gothamites stared at the small Parisian girl in astonishment. She wasn’t serious was she? Didn’t she know who they were? Where they were from?
Apparently she was because she ignored their incredulous stares and pulled up one of the extra binders and presented it to the class. “You were all handed a Paris Survival Guide made by the student council for the conference. In it you will find everything you need to know about our villain, our heroes, and the protocol for surviving their battles, including a map to the akuma shelters near the conference’s various locations, and a list of apps that you will be required to download in order to ensure you and your friends safety. Now if you all open your guides, I will briefly go over the most important information before turning you back over to your teachers.”
“You can’t be serious!” Damian saw Chad, one of the GA students, stand up and stare at the girl in amused disbelief. “All this for a villain? Singular? You know we’re from Gotham right? We can handle whatever cutesy little trouble maker you throw at us. We have the Joker.”
While no one particularly liked Chad, Damian thought he was an idiotic prick, the students couldn’t help but mutter and nod in agreement. But Damian only raised his eyebrow as a change came over every single Parisian in the room. They all stood up straighter, their shoulders tense. They watched the Gothamites with a mixture of fear, frustration, and annoyance. But before any of them could speak, Chloe leapt from the desk and stomped up to Chad.
Everyone fell silent, before the fire in her eyes and the fury in her step. She slammed a hand on his desk forcing him to flinch back in his seat so that she was looming over him in a storm of black and yellow. “Oh, you think you’re so clever, huh? Oh we have the Joker! We can survive anything!” she said mockingly, “Well Monsieur ‘I’m from Gotham,’ I wish we had the Joker. Do you know why? Because—”
“Chloe!” Everyone snapped back to Marinette. Her voice was suddenly as sharp and as cold as her expression as she glared at her friend. Damian unconsciously flinched at how closely this small girl’s ferocity resembled his father’s patented expression. And everyone recognized the quiet command she held, as even those who had continued to snicker at Choe and Chad were silenced into rapt attention.
“Take a breath, Chloe,” Marinette said a bit more gently. And Damian watched in amusement as the other girl visibly relaxed as she made her way back to her friends. Once her view was unobstructed, Marinette studied the Gothamites and sighed. She set down her binder and fell into a more relaxed posture as she leaned against the desk. She then turned her gaze on Chad. From his position behind the other boy, Damian saw yet another thing in the girl that threw him into confusion. Exhaustion. “What would you do,” Marinette asked Chad calmly, “If the Joker was robbing a bank and you told a tourist to avoid that street, but they just laughed and continued walking?”
“Um,” Chad said, his eyes searching desperately for support, “I would wish them a speedy death, cause that’s all they deserve for being so stupid.”
The Gothamites chuckled, and Marinette nodded with a soft, understanding smile. “Exactly,” she said. “In your city, you respect you villains and the danger they pose, and you ask everyone to do the same. All we ask is for the same curtesy. Is that too much to ask?”
Damian found himself impressed as he watched his peers silently straighten in their seats, and begin fingering their binders. With one question, she had gained the attention and the consideration of an entire group intent on mocking her. Now she was in complete control, as she nodded and straightened. She turned, opened her binder, and said, “Now, Paris only has one villain and his partner, however, he is probably the worst villain you will ever encounter outside of Gotham. The reason is simple, he enslaves people.”
Everyone jerked up, confusion filling the classroom as Sabrina picked up the thread, “If you will all turn to page one under the section marked ‘Heroes and Villains,’ you will see the latest picture of our villain, Hawkmoth, as well as a list of his powers. On page two you will see a picture of his partner, Mayura. The rest of the chapter is a list of the heroes currently fighting them.”
“Right now Paris is at war,” Marinette said, her calm seriousness perfectly contrasting with Sabrina’s light lecturing. “But the soldiers are not willing henchmen and crooks like in Gotham. They are people, normal people just going about their lives, until Hawkmoth strikes.”
“The magic item he wields allows him to create akumas,” Sabrina said over the sound of pages turning. “Akumas are magic purple butterflies that possess Hawkmoth’s victims transforming them into villains that will do his bidding. But do not be alarmed, in order for Hawkmoth to possess you, certain qualifications must be met.”
“Negative emotion,” Marinette said, her exhaustion seemed to seep into her words as she said it. “Anger, sadness, fear, pain. These are the thoughts and emotions that Hawkmoth uses to possess his victims. Should you at any moment feel any of these emotions then you are at risk of being akumatized. And once that happens you will only care about two things. The first, will be the thing that caused the negative emotions. Be they a person, or an action, you will become obsessed with fulfilling the need the negative emotions created. The second is obeying Hawkmoth’s will without question or choice.”
“Section two in your Paris Survival Guide,” Sabrina said with unwavering cheerful professionalism. “Has a list of the most common akuma, their negative emotion, and the actions that created them. Section three has a list of self-calming techniques, as well as meditation apps, and the number for the Self Care Hotline in case you need immediate assistance. If you do not have a phone, one will be provided for you curtesy of Wayne Enterprises.”
Damian felt all eyes glance at him, but he ignored them as Marinette continued. “Akumas vary from person to person. The only thing they really have in common is bad fashion sense. But you never know how dangerous they are going to be. Some will only cause a traffic jam. Some…some will make you think the world is ending.”
“A complete list of every akuma to ever appear,” Sabrina declared, “Is listed on the website miraculousparis.gov, as well as on the only hero approved blog, SpotsOn.com. On both sites, the akumas are organized by their danger level. The weakest being a level one, the strongest being a level ten. On both sites there is also a list of protocols to survive each akuma, which can also be found in section four of your guides.”
“Your going to want to download the Akuma Alert App,” Marinette said with an almost bored air, “It is the most efficient way to avoid and survive akumas since it will alert you of their location, threat level, and which protocols to follow. Teachers, you are required to have the app, and to report on it whenever one of your students are akumatized.”
“Due to the number of visitors here for the conference, and Hawkmoth’s patterns,” Sabrina said her cheerfulness giving way to something akin to sternness. “It is very likely that we will be experiencing at least one akuma a day. Our calculations have predicted, that at least one of you will be akumatized before the end of the week. All of you will be caught in at least three akuma attacks, and since you’re from Gotham, should any of them be higher than a level six, then at least half, if not all, of you will die.”
All of the Gothamites dropped their jaws on the floor before Marinette continued with a half-amused smile, “Try not to worry too much about dying though. If you look at our main hero, Ladybug, on page three you’ll see that one of her powers is the Miraculous cure. She reverses any damage done during an akuma attack, and yes that includes resurrecting the dead. But still, do try not to die. Dying sucks, and you will remember it. If not when you’re awake, then at least when you sleep, and nobody wants a nightmare akuma, anytime soon. They suck!”
All of the Parisians stared at nothing, as they nodded in unison, before Sabrina continued in her chipper tone, “At the back of your guide there is a list off all of the apps and websites we just mentioned. We recommend you study them thoroughly before you begin your tour of the city this afternoon!”
“But please,” Marinette said almost pleadingly, “Above all else remember this, the people who are akumatized, are not the enemy. They are the victims. They will do terrible things to anyone who get in their way. But they will remember none of it. No matter who they hurt, or what they destroy, they will never remember the things they did while akumatized. It does nothing to blame them except create an opportunity for another akuma. They are not at fault no matter what happens. The enemy is Hawkmoth and Mayura. They are the villains of this city. The only villains. Please keep that in mind, and do your best to be kind and respectful to others. You do not want to be the cause of an akuma.”
“Anything else you need to know is in your guides and on the sights mentioned,” Sabrina said closing her book with a snap.
“Welcome to Paris!” Chloe said with a scoff, and with that, the girls left.