The Management literally cannot imagine anything after the point where Alya's phone starts ringing without Kanye West's "All of the Lights" playing in the background. Something to keep in mind

After listening to his intentions, the Bandit's new top man Martin suggested not attacking the school directly. Apparently, he recognized that history textbook from his kid's homework. He had access to what the Bandit needed. It was boring, but practical. He didn't want to cause too much of a fuss. Not until he got the machine to pay out.

He gave it another spin. Nothing.

He rolled the pen around in his hand, surrounded by his new gang. He had a gang now. Thirty of the biggest low-lives in Paris were now willing to die for him because he could pay them right. He laughed in his throat. He was obviously insane. Obviously unstable... And he obviously had plenty of money to burn. Risk and reward.

Martin soon walked in the door, package in his hand. He laid in on the table in front of the Bandit. The Bandit smiled and opened up the manila envelope...

And pulled out the yearbook.

“Why exactly did you need a highschool yearbook?” Martin asked.

The Bandit simply smiled. “Martin, do you know why a domino mask works?

“I'm sorry?” Martin asked.

“A domino mask,” the Bandit repeated, slowly leafing through the yearbook. “Those little masks that only cover your eyes.”

Martin stood silent.

“Because it makes no sense, right?” The Bandit continued leafing through the yearbook, not in any rush to get to the right page. “You see it in movies and you're like 'Sheesh, they're so easily recognizable in those little masks... But they're not. Human facial recognition focuses on the eyes, specifically the muscles around them, and how they move. So covering that area is a very good way to cover your identity. It changes how your whole face is framed. Most people get thrown off.”

Martin nodded.

“You wanna know why I'm not most people?” the Bandit asked, as he arrived at the right page. He clicked the pen and began to scan the portraits.

“Why?” Martin asked.

He circled one portrait, then another, before finally looking up at Martin. “I play poker.” He snapped the yearbook shut and made for the exit. “Take the boys, and secure the location. I want to be ready to start in a week. I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

“It's not going to be easy to-”

“I have faith that you won't screw up,” the Bandit smiled. “If you do, there is more where you came from.” The first task was nearly complete. He had managed to find out everything to about the other players at he table, and he was just a few easy-to-get numbers away from winning the hand. Finding people in Paris was next to impossible, but it became much easier when they had faces and names.

Adrien Agreste, and Marinette Dupin-Cheng.

---

“Master Fu!” Marinette was panicking, she hadn't warned the Grand Guardian about the fact that she told her friends her identity. “I can explain. I--”

“You told them,” Master Fu finished. “It's all right.”

Marinette was thrown off. “It is?”

“I wanted you both to wait until you were older,” Fu continued as he headed to the middle of the group. “The people you know at sixteen you won't necessarily want in your life when you're twenty. When you reveal that secret to them, they become permanent fixtures in your life. So you better be sure these are going to be your lifelong friends. Otherwise...”

She looked at Alya, Nino, and then Adrien. “I'm sure,” she said, not taking her eyes off Adrien.

“I believe you.” Master Fu looked around to see the other three teens looking at him like he was a space alien. “Ah... You didn't tell them about me.”

“I was getting there,” Marinette said awkwardly.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” Master Fu said, straightening up. “I am Fu Wai-Sheng. Keeper of the turtle Miraculous, and Grand Guardian of the Shenqi Jewels.”

“Shenqi?” Alya asked.

“The Chinese word for 'Miraculous,'” his Kwami clarified.

“The stick-in-the-mud is my Kwami, Wayzz.” Fu continued.

Nino snapped his fingers. “I get it!” He pointed his finger right at Fu. “You're the Mr. Miyagi!”

“Nino!” Alya slapped his hand. “Insensitive!”

Fu seemed to ponder the suggestion. “He was Japanese,” Fu replied. “And not mystic enough. Think more Egg Shen.”

Nino nodded, understanding immediately.

“You're the guy who gave me my Miraculous,” Adrien said, seemingly looking through Fu. “I've been wondering what your deal was... Or if you were even real.”

“Oh, I'm real,” Fu assured them. “And I'm aware of the current situation. It's partially my fault... All of your problems have been...”

“What do you mean, Teacher?” Marinette asked. “It was Hawk Moth...”

“Ladybug,” Fu sighed. “Hawk Moth exists because I failed. I choose who receives a Miraculous. If one falls into the wrong hands, that is my responsibility.”

“I think the responsibility lies with the idiot who created the mind control jewel that turns people into monsters,” Nino added. “Who thought that was a good guy power?”

“It was never meant to control,” Fu sighed. “It was meant to inspire. Yes, it found you at your lowest, but it pulled you out of that darkness. It never buried you in it. It reminded you that you still had power when you felt powerless, and it brought it out of you. It was traditionally given to someone who could inspire the weak to act. The kind of hero who made the common man realize that sometimes, they could save themselves.

“And he could,” Fu continued. “He could inspire. He was a man you wanted to follow. Because he had a way of making sure you knew that there was a light at the end of every tunnel. You just had to keep moving forward.”

“Forgive me, sir,” Alya said quietly. “But... What happened?”

Fu seemed to look at Adrien, then look down. “He lost someone,” he said sadly. “The woman who pulled him out of his own darkness. He blamed me... In a way it is my fault. There should have been a better solution... But I let the team down. After that... We just fell apart.”

“Team?” Adrien asked.

Fu nodded. “Turtle, Fox, Bee, Peacock, Moth,” he gestured to Adrien and Marinette. “Ladybug and Black Cat. Seven jewels for seven warriors brought together to stop a great evil. Created by the Emperor's personal Mage.”

“What great evil?” Adrien asked.

“Pray you never find out,” Wayzz commented. Plagg and Tikki were visibly shaken by the memory of it.

“This is the first generation where the seven have been separated,” Fu clarified. “I still have mine. The Ladybug and Black Cat are here with us now. We know where the Moth is. The Fox is complicated. The Peacock was taken by it's owner to pass on to her daughter, but she died before she could. And the Bee...” He looked up toward the gloomy sky. “We may never see the Bee again.”

There was a moment of silence, seemingly taken for a lost hero. Marinette had never noticed how sad the Grand Guardian's eyes looked until now.

“Listen,” Adrien said, finally breaking the long silence. “Hawk Moth, I can't believe I'm saying this, is not our primary concern here. Master, has an Akumatized person ever broken away from the Moth Miraculous before?

“Not for quite some time,” the Grand Guardian answered. “The rules, however. Haven't changed. Purify the Akuma, and you put an end to the powers. The Akuma puts itself in something of great sentimental value.”

“So...,” he started. “What? The gun? The suit?”

“The gun was a product of his powers,” Marinette thought out loud. “And I don't think the suit is prison garb.”

“Plus, I categorically refuse to strip him,” Adrien added.

“I may have a lead on that,” Alya chimed in. “Listen to this. 'At the defendants request, the warden allowed him to keep his father's lucky poker chip while incarcerated. Bousquet took the keepsake with him as a-”

Marinette stopped her. “Don't say it,” she sighed. “Lucky charm...”

“'Good luck charm,' it says here,” Alya corrected. “Point is, I think we have a winner. He kept it in his pocket whenever he gambled.”

“So all we have to do is pickpocket a serial killer,” Nino said dryly. “Piece of cake.”

“I've never seen this chip,” Marinette thought aloud. “I mean, if I had something like that I'd be fidgeting with it constantly.”

Alya snapped his fingers. “That's got to be his tell!”

“His what?” Nino asked.

“Very good, Alya,” Fu responded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Alya grew a little self-satisfied smile. “All gamblers have a tell,” she explained. “Something they absentmindedly do when they're nervous about a bet. It's how poker players are able to sniff out bluffs or misdirects.”

“But he bluffed us last night,” Adrien remembered. “And his hand didn't move near his pocket...”

“You can train yourself out of doing it every time you bluff,” Fu explained. “But never entirely. When things get too heated, and you get too nervous, you will drop your tell. I learned that the hard way.”

“Staring down a bad guy?” Nino asked.

“Mahjong tournament,” Fu clarified. “I lost my car.”

“So all we have to do is make him nervous,” Adrien said. “Put him in a position where he's not sure he's in control.”

“Then go at him when he fidgets with the chip,” Marinette finished. “Alright we have a plan.”

There was a brief moment of confidence that came to a crashing halt when Alya's phone went off. “News update,” she said. Her eyes widened. “What the hell?!”

“What?” Marinette asked. “Alya what is it?”

Alya handed the phone to Marinette, and Marinette's jaw nearly hit the floor. The Arc de Triomphe, a French national landmark, an almost fifty meter high stone archway, was missing. Seemingly covered by a huge neon dome that cascaded down different colors. On the front of it read the message “GRAND OPENING.” Under it there was a countdown. It seemed to have started from 180 hours.

Marinette passed the phone around. Each of them looking at the dome with confusion. “A bomb?” Adrien guessed.

“I don't think so,” Alya answered. “Grand Opening sounds like he'll put on more of a spectacle than that. Remember, this guy wants to put himself on a stage where people can see him torment die. Like a guillotine platform. If it is a bomb, I am willing to bet that's not a detonation timer. He'll want to preen first.”

“You guys told me that he was also leaning into the comic villain thing,” Nino remembered. “'Big Doomsday Device right in the middle of town,' he said? He's probably building it under there.”

Marinette nodded, then turned to Master Fu and bowed. “I'm sorry, Teacher,” she said. “But I need to-”

“Duty calls,” Fu said, waving a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about me.”

“Thank you.” Marinette stood in position. “You ready Adrien?”

“Whenever you are, Milady,” Adrien responded.

“Tikki, spots-”

And then Alya's phone rang.

“Yes?” Alya answered. “Mrs. Dupin-Cheng? I... Yeah, she's here... Okay I'll hand you over...” Alya held the phone out to Marinette. “It's your Mom, she sounds really weird.”

Marinette took the phone. “Mom?”

“He's in the house,” Marinette's mother said in a horrified whisper. “I think I smell gas.”

---

She kept her on the phone for as long as she could, but eventually she had been cut off. Marinette had assured her that it would be alright. That she had sent Ladybug off to save them both. She could only hope that Ladybug could do it. She was shaking the whole way.

It had started to rain by the time she made it to the house. What she saw there would etch itself into her mind forever.

The bakery where she had lived her entire life, that her parents had built from the ground up, was now covered in flames. Every inch of it, on fire. Her mother was backing away from the wreckage, a look of pure terror on her face.

When she saw Ladybug land, she ran up to her. “Please, you've got to help us!” she coughed. “He has my husband!”

Ladybug made to sprint into the burning building, when something emerged from it.

Henri Dupin was not a small man. He was a good six-four, and had played rugby in his youth. So him being dragged, bloody and unconscious, out of a burning building by his collar would be jarring to anyone. To his daughter, who had always seen her Daddy as invincible, it was traumatizing.

She looked at the monster responsible, knowing true hatred for the first time.

“Ladybug, Ladybug,” the Bandit called out. “Fly away home.”

Logic: O_o Okay. A few things. First off, what did we learn from last time?

Me: People have better things to do on a Saturday night than read a Fanfic by an idiot. Publish early, and don't freak out so much.

Logic: Good. Second, Master Fu just showed up, exposited about the Miraculous, then didn't matter?

Me: Hey! Just like the show, amirite? In all seriousness, he had a reason for coming, but it was interrupted. I'll make it clear later.

Logic: Third, no one is going to get the Egg Shen joke.

Me: Not my fault they didn't get the joke. Their fault for not seeing Big Trouble in Little China.

Logic: Fair enough. Fourth, that dome is going to lead to something ridiculous, isn't it?

Me: LUDICROUS is more like it. This is the most daffy villain scheme I have ever come up with. It's over-the-top, and a little silly, but I'm proud of it.

Logic: Finally, and this is a BIG one, you are taking a HUGE risk here. You better hope you're as good a writer as you think you are, because burning down Marinette's HOUSE might piss some people off! You've essentially murdered a primary show location.

Me: I know. TRUST ME, I know. But I stand by my decision. Because the entire fic spiraled out of this scene. Originally, it was going to be Hawk Moth, but it was, in my opinion, far too sadistic for him. He's a planner, and he doesn't do things just out of spite. This is what I thought he'd do if Hawk Moth found out Marinette's identity, but the action seemed out of character. Then I bemoaned the fact that all the villains were shackled to Hawk Moth, and I asked why he didn't use a hardened criminal for Akumatization. It was addressing both of those issues that led to the creation of the One-Armed Bandit. The idea of revealing identities appealed to me so much, that I decided this is also how I'd write the identity reveal from our heroes. I had to keep the scene in, because there would be no fic without it.

If you are offended by this scene, as a fan of the show, I understand. If you are simply worried, I just need you to trust me. I swear, I know what I'm doing.

Want to ream me out on a more professional format? Check this story out on Archive Of Our Own.