Work Text:
NARRATOR:
It’s a bright, cheery July morning in Gotham City, home to more than three million men, women, and children all going about their daily lives in typically ordinary Gotham fashion. But just now, near the intersection of Lexington and Broadway in the heart of downtown Gotham – specifically, in front of the legendary Burns-Allen Theater – something decidedly out of the ordinary is taking place.
The umbrella hooked over the arm of the dapper, crisply tuxedoed and top-hatted figure who strolls up to the theater box office is completely out of place – there’s scarcely even the wisp of a cottony cirrus cloud anywhere in the serene azure sky.
“One thousand tickets, if you please, to tonight’s performance of Spangled,” he tells the clerk in a brisk, cultured tone.
The clerk blinks. “A thousand? I’m sorry, sir. As you must know, ours is one of the most popular shows on Broadway – I have only thirty-seven seats left for tonight. You’re talking about booking the entire house, and that won’t be possible for at least the next five weeks.”
His customer’s eyes narrow, and a note of menace enters the man’s voice. “I don’t believe you understand me. I’ll have those thousand tickets, for tonight’s show, and I’ll have them now.” With a practiced, economical flick of its owner’s wrist, the sharply pointed end of the umbrella is abruptly hovering an inch from the theater clerk’s chest. Uncanny light dances along the tuxedo’s sleeves, and the next words are a command, accompanied by a high, two-toned whistle:
“Tweet-tweet! Tickets, please!”
The clerk’s eyes glaze over, and his fingers fly at unnatural speed across his workstation’s keyboard while his smartly dressed customer watches calmly.
NARRATOR:
Eighteen minutes later….
A stack of tickets a bit over twelve inches high (and four drained ink cartridges) sit atop the desk next to the printer. His eyes clearing as he speaks, the clerk lifts the service window’s access panel as high as it will go in order to push the tickets through the opening. “There you are, sir. That will be $81,500 including service charges, if you please.”
“Oh, no,” his patron says firmly. “There’s no question of payment. I’ll have these on the house, thank you kindly. Tweet-tweet!” With a whistle and an umbrella-flick, the clerk’s eyes go glassy once again, and the other man sweeps the tickets into a slim attaché case that wasn’t there a moment earlier. “Au revoir, my good man! My guests will be here at seven-thirty on the dot!”
And so saying, he strides cheerfully off down the sidewalk, pauses at a narrow alleyway between one building and the next, steps into the alley…
…and speaks one brief command. “Empro! Black tie, off!”
Back at the box office, the clerk’s eyes are un-glazing. He takes a single alarmed look at the messages on his computer screen, gulps, puts a CLOSED sign over the service window, and reaches for the phone on his desk.
animated opening credits: MIRACULOUS BATMAN [1]
Outside Gotham City Police Headquarters, the Batmobile zooms up and parks in a conveniently vacant spot. Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder, leap from the vehicle, dart up the building’s stone steps, and enter.
Police Commissioner James Gordon is standing near his office’s window as the Dynamic Duo races in.
“Thank God you’re here!” says the commissioner.
“It’s our civic duty, Commissioner,” Batman says mildly. “So what’s the Penguin up to this time?”
“We’re not sure,” Gordon says, “but I expect we’ll find out at half past seven tonight, when his thousand guests – whoever they are – show up to see Spangled with the tickets he stole.”
“Holy packed house!” says Robin. “Weren’t most of those seats already reserved?”
Batman nods. “Exactly. There’ll be chaos on an epic scale. Even if the theater notifies the legitimate ticket holders, many won’t read or hear the messages in time, and many of those who do will ignore the notice and come anyway.”
“The question,” the commissioner says, “is what the Penguin is really after. Could there be one of your ‘lost Miraculous’ connected to the show somehow?”
“Doubtful,” says Batman. “Spangled has been running successfully for nearly a year. If a Miraculous was in play, some aspect of its presence should have manifested months ago.”
Robin snaps his fingers. “Maybe the connection isn’t to the show. Maybe it’s to the audience. What if someone with a ticket to tonight’s show has a lost Miraculous, and Penguin’s been tracking them?”
The two crimefighters trade glances. The Caped Crusader speaks. “That might just be it! Good work, Robin!”
Commissioner Gordon is shaking his head. “That’s over nine hundred people. How can you possibly find the right one in time?”
“Don’t worry, Commissioner,” Batman replies. “We have our ways. Quick, Robin, to the Batmobile!”
NARRATOR:
Later, deep beneath stately Wayne Manor….
The Miraculous Batcave is a surprisingly cheerful place, for all that it’s an enormous cave – the ceiling is some forty feet above the floor – attached to a larger network of caves inhabited by several different colonies of actual bats.
Most of one alcove is occupied by the two-story cold fusion generator that powers the cave’s plethora of electronic equipment. About a quarter of the main cavern serves as the Dynamic Duo’s vehicle bay, in which the Batmobile and Batcycle are currently parked. Another third of the cavern is home to at least a dozen workstations featuring a wide variety of electronic and scientific equipment. In the center of this cluster, two features dominate: a Giant Lucite Map of Gotham City, and the BatComputer Mk. IX. Batman is currently seated at one of the BatComputer’s interface consoles, with Robin looking over his shoulder.
Behind and beyond the heroes, a polished gray wall with a row of neatly labeled doors (indicating the BatGym, BatKitchen, BatVault. BatLabs 1 through 4, BatMedicalBay, BatSuite, BatGear Storage, and yes, BatRoom) blocks off primary access to the side caverns. Halfway up the innermost wall, a round opening about eight feet in diameter is marked Secure Access. Through this, a winged silver-gray figure sails silently, circles, lights on the cavern floor, and says “Thoth, fold thy wings!” Silver light flickers as the figure transforms from the Sage, holder of the Owl Miraculous, to a spare, impeccably groomed white-haired man with square-rimmed glasses and a perfectly pressed black suit.
“Alfred!” says Robin, swinging around to greet the Wayne family butler. “Is something wrong upstairs?”
“Not at all, master Robin,” Alfred replies, “save that madame Sabine is worried that the two of you will miss dinner yet again. It is, as she points out, the third time this week.”
Batman does not quite sigh. “Tell her we couldn’t refuse the theater tickets we were given, and that we’ll catch a late supper at Shwartz’s after the show.”
“I’ll do so,” Alfred replies. “Meanwhile, have you located a prospect?”
“Not conclusively,” says Batman. “We’ve run the box office’s list of ticket buyers through the BatComputer, but the results are ambiguous.”
“There are three potentials,” Robin adds. “Gregory Bernardin, a chef from southern France; Boris Gudenov, a seafood broker from the Ukraine; and Qin Lee Peng, a journalist from Hong Kong. According to the BatComputer, the most likely Miraculous involved is the Salmon, but we haven’t ruled out Raccoon or Otter.”
A small pointy-eared gray head pokes itself out of Alfred’s vest pocket. “I’m not sure there is an Otter Miraculous,” says the owl kwami, Thoth.
“Don’t—” Batman attempts to head off the inevitable.
But Robin can’t resist. “If not, there otter be.”
“Point to the sparrow,[2]” says Thoth, looking amused. “That said…if I had to bet, I’d say it’s the Salmon, and I think that one was last seen in eastern Europe.”
“So,” says Robin, “we focus on Gudenov?”
“For the moment,” Batman answers. “But we’ll put stealthed BatDrones on both the others, just in case. Alfred, if you could keep an eye on those from here?”
“Of course, sir.” The Bat-butler steps to a nearby workstation, sits, and logs onto the cave’s network. Moments later, several varicolored dots spring to life on the Giant Lucite Map of Gotham City.
As Alfred sits down, Batman rises. “Meanwhile,” he tells Robin, “Bruce Wayne and Adrien Grayson need to change for their visit to the theater tonight.”
Robin blinks. “I don’t remember – wait, do we actually have tickets for Spangled?”
“While we were at the box office,” Batman replies, “I took the liberty of attaching a NanoBat to their computer. As soon as we returned here, I used its access to purchase two of the last nineteen legitimate seats available.”
“Won’t the timing look a little suspicious?” Robin inquires.
Batman shrugs, looking a trifle sheepish. “I may have backdated the transaction to suggest that we bought the tickets three weeks ago. A bit of subterfuge is often an essential tool for the modern crimefighter.”
Robin thwacks himself lightly on the forehead. “Of course! Right as usual.”
“Well, then…”
Batman steps away from the workstation and flexes his gloved right hand. Robin likewise falls back a pace or two, setting one fist on the black feather emblem on the chest of his skintight red-and-yellow jumpsuit. The voices of the Caped Crusader and Boy Wonder ring out:
“Tepes, shadows fade!”
“Mimu, feathers in!”
A cloak of pure darkness sweeps around Batman and disappears, leaving in its place the distinguished, mild-mannered form of millionaire Bruce Wayne. Robin’s body is likewise momentarily wrapped in a golden dazzle, which quickly dissipates to reveal Bruce’s young blond ward, Adrien Grayson. The two nod briskly at Alfred as they stride across the Batcave to an inconspicuous alcove, at the rear of which they pause in front of an elevator door. There is, of course, a sign: Exit Only: No Return Access.
Adrien eyes his guardian as Bruce sets his palm against the elevator’s access panel. “So, is Spangled actually any good? It’s been a long time since I saw the movie.”
Bruce shrugs. “I really couldn’t say.”
“Wait, you’ve never seen Spangled?”
Bruce looks a trifle abashed, and fails to notice as the elevator door slides open and then closed again. “It isn’t really – my kind of movie.”
Adrien rolls his eyes. “Be honest, have you ever watched any of the Fizney musicals?”
Bruce frowns, his forehead wrinkling. “Hunchback of Sainte-Chapelle, I think.”
“Sheesh, you would pick the creepiest one,” says Adrien, reaching sideways to plant his own hand on the scanner. “All right, we’re officially seeing Spangled for real once we’ve caught Penguin. Maybe twelve dancing princesses all on stage at once will wash out the scary-priest memories. Come on,” he adds, darting into the elevator the moment the door slides open.
NARRATOR:
At 7:20 p.m. that night, outside the Burns-Allen Theater….
Warnings notwithstanding, the sidewalk in front of the building is fairly crowded; it looks as if about half the show’s ticket-holders have shown up. Bruce and Adrien are on the fringes of the crowd, each neatly attired in coat and tie.
“What’s the word from Alfred?” Adrien asks softly.
“One for two,” Bruce responds, just as quietly. “Peng is here, but she didn’t bring her date. Bernardin opted out; he’s at a club in Eveningside Heights. I assume you’ve spotted Gudenov?”
Adrien gives him a look. “He’s shorter than I am, but yes. Yellow coat, yellow Homburg hat, doing a fair impression of a fire hydrant, next to a fire hydrant. And he did bring his date – tall, dark, and slinky. Have we seen her before?”
“Not in person,” says Bruce. “But she’s in our files – Tasha N. Genoux, currently a French national.”
Adrien blinks. “You’re right – partners, aren’t they?”
Bruce nods. “Former agents of the Volgravian Politburo, thought to have been killed after a run-in with some Bessarovian Cossacks.”
“So what are they doing in Gotham?”
“An excellent question—”
The conversation is interrupted as the first of several silver charter buses pulls around a corner and stops in front of the theater. Its door opens and the Penguin steps out, furled umbrella in hand. He swiftly moves to one side, allowing his passengers to exit, which they do in pairs: each, a short, squat man in a yellow coat and hat, accompanied by a tall, dark, and slinky female companion dressed in form-fitting black. A second and third bus quickly pull up as the first empties itself and departs, disgorging more matched pairs in yellow and black.
Bruce and Adrien promptly fade backward into the shadows, so that only the very sharpest ear might catch the whispered commands:
“Tepes, shadows rise!”
“Mimu, feathers out!”
What isn’t heard, though, is certainly seen – a whirl of black flashing tornado-like to deposit an imposing cowled figure in a wide-winged cape atop the Burns-Allen marquee, a similar blaze of gold and crimson fireworks from which a lithe, youthful figure springs, arrowing up to join his mentor.
“Dear me!” That’s the Penguin, his voice carrying clearly as both crowds fall silent. “Batman and his pet parakeet! I don’t recall inviting you to my gala!”
“It’s hardly your party,” says Robin, “since you didn’t pay for the tickets.”
The Penguin laughs. “Ah, but it will be, as soon as I’ve collected my prize.” He strides briskly straight for the genuine Boris Gudenov, umbrella twirling as he walks. “Tweet-tweet! My good man, hand over your Miraculous!”
The little European’s hand moves toward his lapel, but his taller companion bats it away. “I think not! Leica, claws flash!”
There’s yet another burst of light, this one blue-green, and when it fades, Tasha Genoux is garbed in a sleek, shimmering costume of dark leather with a slight turquoise cast. The furred cowl she wears is less elaborate than Batman’s, with small round earpieces and no nose covering, and dual cobalt-blue equipment sashes crisscross her chest.
Even as the Penguin repeats “Dear me!”, the new arrival’s hands are moving; the left has extracted a small object from one of her sash-pouches and tucked it into a fold of the looped leather sling held in the right. With a whirl of her wrist, the missile speeds toward its target…
…and is some eight inches from knocking the umbrella from the Penguin’s hand when it intersects with a thrown Batarang aimed at the same target. Both missiles fall to the pavement with a soft clang, as the Penguin whistles again.
“Boy Wonder – tweet-tweet – disarm the Bat! Master Gudenov – tweet-tweet – your Miraculous!”
Robin turns – but it’s a feint. “That trick never works! Frequency-blocking Batplugs for the win!” Gudenov makes another hand-motion toward his lapel – but his companion is quicker, and the pin in question is swiftly tucked into a sash-pouch. But the battle is far from over, as the Penguin’s copycat squadron surrounds the two European visitors, and Leica’s mistress is forced to leap atop a parked car in an effort to keep clear of the mob.
“My dear girl,” says the Penguin, as he reaches for his umbrella. “I dislike resorting to threats, but needs must. You have something I desire – and I now have your friend in my control. I believe a trade is in order.” He gestures. Indeed, four of the copycat Gudenovs have surrounded the genuine article and are escorting him, none too gently, to the Penguin’s side. “As for you,” he adds, turning his head to address Batman, “this matter is none of your affair, and there are a great many innocent bystanders between us. Retreat, and you preserve their safety.”
Gudenov himself takes the opportunity to speak. “Is true,” he says, clearly unhappy. “My fish, not worth so many lives. I beg you, yield.”
“You are a wise man,” the Penguin says cheerfully, turning his attention back to Gudenov’s companion. “And I find myself intrigued. Let us trade, then – but now I require both Miraculous, his and yours. The latter looks entirely too useful to leave behind.”
The Dynamic Duo glance at one another. “We can’t let him do that! Her Miraculous is too powerful!” Robin says, his tone soft but fierce.
“Agreed,” replies Batman just as quietly, “but Penguin’s right about all those bystanders. Whatever we do, we have to keep them safe.”
Lifting his head, he addresses the Penguin. “You know this isn’t over. You can’t hide from us.”
“Hah,” the villain retorts. “With the new powers I’ll soon command, you won’t be able to hide from me! Now, my lady—” But the costumed form of Tasha Genoux is abruptly nowhere to be seen…
…and when the Penguin’s wrist flicks upward, his face takes on a stunned expression, because the umbrella that was dangling from it seconds before is just as suddenly no longer there.
Behind and above him, from atop the bus, comes a dangerous laugh. “Leica, Empro, unify! Black claws, flash!”
When the resulting turquoise flare fades, a hush falls over the crowd. The figure looking down from the bus’s roof is now dressed not in glossy leather, but in a glittering sequined outfit that retains the mostly black yet subtly blue-green color scheme of its predecessor. Instead of a cowl, she wears a slender top hat and domino mask, though the latter retains small rounded ear-cups at its sides. A single jeweled sash of sapphire blue runs from shoulder to waist, and in its owner’s hand is a slim silver flute, which she raises lightly to her lips, blowing a quick three-note tone.
“Toodle-oh! Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Robins and Bats! Quickly now, disperse – find your way home, safe and sound!”
Nearly as one, the crowd on the sidewalk – theatergoers and Penguin-minions alike – obeys, scattering in impressively orderly fashion in the space of a few moments. The Penguin, however – while he’s lost his Miraculous tuxedo in favor of an ordinary gray business suit – does not appear to have been affected; he draws a gleaming silver pistol from an inner pocket, and is raising it to aim at the hapless Boris Gudenov – only to have it knocked from his hand with a CLANG! by a black Batarang.
“Very well done, madame,” says Batman, “but surely you didn’t expect that to work on us.”
“One must try, m’sieur,” comes the amused reply. “We must speak – but first, toodle-oh! Master Penguin, you need a nap, at once!” And as the brief musical phrase completes itself, the architect of the evening’s chaos closes his eyes and collapses onto a convenient bench.
“That’s definitely not the Raccoon. Or the Salmon,” Robin observes as the Caped Crusaders swing down from the theater marquee.
“No,” replies Batman, “but I believe it is a certain Mistress Mink, known to be one of the most skillful burglars in all Europe. Very likely a match for our own Catwoman, in fact.”
The subject of the conversation leaps lightly down from atop the tour bus. “Not precisely, mes amis,” she says. “I have been called by that name, oui, but my Miraculous is not the mink, and what I do is not for profit, but for love of the game.”
Batman looks slightly alarmed. “Stealth, speed, and playfulness—”
Robin is grinning. “You Otter have seen it coming. Am I right?”
“You see why I do not dispute the mis-attribution.” The Otter’s holder shrugs. “Properly, I would be the Lady Lutra, but even that is clearer than seems wise. When I require a name, it is most often – the Slynx.”
One can almost see Batman’s eyebrow rise beneath his cowl. “Descriptive – and yet misleading. Very appropriate.”
“Merci. I am aware,” the Slynx adds, “of your quest to gather and guard the many Miraculous lost so long ago.”
“Then you know what I’m going to ask you next,” says Batman.
“Oui. You are welcome to the Salmon. That is why we are in Gotham. But Leica and I, we do not care to be parted. And I would prefer not to force the issue.” The Slynx reaches into one of her pouches, withdraws a carved silver lapel pin, drops it into the Dark Knight’s gloved hand – and steps back a pace, as Boris Gudenov approaches to join her.
“Bat and bird, very strong,” he says. “Much tougher than…maybe best not to say,” he finishes, as the Slynx sets a hand on his shoulder. “But will fight if must.”
Batman is silent for several moments. “I’ll need your kwami’s word as well as yours on that,” he says at last. “In the meantime, though – aren’t you forgetting someone?” And he gestures at the flute in the Slynx’s hand.
“Zut alors!” she says. “So I am. Empro: release!” There’s a muted flicker as the Slynx’s costume shifts back to its original leather look and the flute dissolves into a four-inch-tall penguin-like creature holding a polished onyx collar stud.
The penguin kwami regards Batman with a weary expression. “Let’s hope he stays caught this time, shall we?” he says before vanishing into the jewel, which the Dark Knight accepts from the Slynx and tucks carefully into a compartment of his utility belt.
“That’s the plan,” says Robin. The disenchanted Penguin – just now awakening from his enforced doze – gives the youth a dark look but doesn’t resist being Batcuffed.
“Plans,” says the sometime arch-villain, “have a way of being disrupted. We’ll meet again, don’t doubt it!” As he speaks, a police van pulls up and parks just ahead of the lead tour bus, and a pair of uniformed officers emerges to load the Penguin into it. A third approaches the clustered Miraculous wielders. “Any more for us?” she asks.
Batman shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
“Got it,” says the officer, who hops back into the van’s shotgun seat.
The Slynx reaches for Gudenov’s hand. “So our business is done, oui?”
“Not quite,” says the Caped Crusader. “If I might have a word with – Leica, I believe?”
“Ah, of course.” The Otter’s mistress smiles silkily. “Leica! Claws fold!” The air blurs, and a moment later Tasha Genoux is back in ordinary evening wear and a clutch-sized, otter-like kwami stands calmly on her outstretched palm.
“Batman.” Leica’s voice is soft, quiet, and somehow both respectful and amused at once. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“A good one, I hope.”
“For the most part,” Leica replies. “It’s true that Miraculous powers are easily misused, and your quest is not without merit. But the wise man respects those cases where servant and mistress have become friend and ally.”
Batman gives the little creature a considered look. “Even if one partner has a history of trouble-making and causing harm?”
“Perhaps especially then,” the kwami says tartly, “so that the one might learn better from the other.”
That prompts a laugh from the Boy Wonder. “She’s got you there.”
Batman shakes his head, clearly amused, and tells Leica, “I’ll take that as a promise.”
“Done!” says the kwami, who promptly dives into Tasha’s clutch purse.
“And done,” says Tasha herself, with a glance at her watch. “Come, Boris,” she says, tugging her companion toward the theater entrance. “We have just four minutes before the overture begins!”
The Caped Crusaders stare after them, Batman’s expression more than a trifle stunned, before Robin moves to follow. “Aren’t you coming? As long as we still have the tickets….”
“We do?” Batman replies, cocking his head at the Boy Wonder.
“You know what I mean,” says Robin. “Just think, with so many folks having left, it’ll almost be like a command performance. And we did tell…your aunt this was where we’d be. It’d be a real shame to lie about something like that.”
Batman gives his partner a look. “Watch yourself, Robin. That kind of deviousness can cause serious trouble.”
Robin merely grins. “So what you’re telling me is, I otter be careful.”
The Dark Knight groans…and follows the Boy Wonder into the theater.
NARRATOR:
And so ends another adventure of the Dynamic Duo – but even as they settle in for a night of rest and relaxation, new perils and partnerships lie in wait. In a hidden grotto deep in the forests of Gotham Central Park, a renegade Egyptologist is about to discover the Lion Miraculous…
“Professor McElroy, over here!”
The graduate student excitedly points to a brick protruding from the wall near the floor of a small, awkwardly shaped pyramid transported stone by stone from Egypt to Gotham City shortly before the turn of the twentieth century. “Look,” she says, “that’s got to be the key to a hidden chamber!”
“You may be right, my dear,” says Professor McElroy. “Let’s just investigate….”
NARRATOR:
…while on the Lower West Side, one Marinette Gordon-Cheng is about to test a discovery of her own.
As usual, Marinette is alone in her apartment on this Friday night save for her parakeet. Career librarians, she reflects, aren’t usually gifted with busy social calendars – but then, she considers, that may be an advantage if she’s found what she thinks she’s found. A single purple earring – amethyst, she thinks – rests on a velvet cloth atop her dressing table. She picks it up, lightly rubs a finger across it, and says, “Zabet, wake!”
For a moment, nothing happens. But then a wisp of intangible smoke rises out of the gem, and a tiny purple creature unfolds from the smoke. “I am Zabet, keeper of the Fruit-Bat,” it says. “Who calls?”
“I do,” says Marinette. “I have studied the lore and legends of the Miraculous. I know the ways and purposes of their power. I pledge to defend honor and pursue justice. By my hand, I offer my service. Zabet, will you grant me your power and partnership?”
“Good gracious,” the little being says. “That ritual is at least five hundred years old, and you can’t be a day over twenty-four. Are you serious?”
“Completely,” Marinette says. “From what I’ve learned, there are at least a hundred lost Miraculous scattered around the world, maybe a lot more – and way too many of the people who find them are using them for the wrong things. That’s too many for Batman and Robin to chase down by themselves. They need help, and I’ve got the knowledge to give it.”
Zabet eyes Marinette thoughtfully. “Hmm. I must’ve slept longer than I thought – but by the sound of it, you’re not wrong. You’ll have to bring me up to date, maybe by a lot. But yes, I’ll take you on. I’m guessing you know the trigger?”
Marinette nods, dons the earring, and says, “Zabet, wings wide!”
NARRATOR:
So tune in next time, loyal viewers – same Bat-time, same Bat-channel – for the terrible threat of King Tut, and the incredible introduction of Batgirl!
# # #
[1] The music for these is the 1966 Batman theme, but the visuals are in bright Miraculous-style color. Miraculous Gotham looks a great deal like the New York of the relevant special Miraculous Ladybug episode, and the rapid-fire scene shifts give us brief glimpses of several traditional Bat-villains as well as our heroes.
[2] While Batman’s sidekick is known publicly as Robin the Boy Wonder, Adrien Grayson is in fact the wielder of the Sparrow Miraculous. The crimefighters made this decision very early in their careers, partly to confuse opponents as to which of the many known Miraculous was in play and partly because both Adrien and Bruce thought “Robin” sounded like a more heroic name than “Sparrow”.