Chapter Text
“It’s your third Master league event,” Max observed with some amusement as he watched Marinette bounce on her toes in front of the door about to open for her. “Your win record is above 94% from the last two. How are you still nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” Marinette insisted. “Not really. Just ready to get started!” She added, almost to herself, “I didn’t expect to play him so soon. I mean, I didn’t even know he was back in the league this year.”
“That is a little surprising,” Max agreed, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at Marinette’s match list in his hand. “We could have prepared more if we had known sooner that he was returning. His rank is only marginally higher than yours at the moment, however. Numerically, your third match will be of much more importance. There’s a much bigger disparity between your ranks which will mean a bigger jump in rank for you if you win.”
“If I win?” Marinette teased, nudging him. “So much faith, Max.” She slipped her red-and-black hoodie off of her shoulders, and then pulled it off entirely, deciding it was too warm to wear in the closed match space. Ultimate Mech Strike III had been gaining steadily in popularity, and the pro leagues were getting more and more of an audience. With that came an increase in both exposure and cash prizes—and a corresponding increase in cheating. The Master and Grandmaster leagues now held their match events in person at local exhibit halls and convention centers, with players isolated from interference in “pyrapods” that held standardized headsets, controllers, and screens—but they could be a bit stuffy. Matches were streamed from the game center live on the website, and the players who brought in the most traffic were targeted for sponsorships and interviews.
“I can calculate the odds if you—” Max began, but the door to her pyrapod slid open, indicating it was time for the match to begin. Marinette shared a quick fistbump with Max, and then tossed him her hoodie and bounced inside without hesitation.
She donned the provided headset (which still smelled of cleaner, but she was more inclined to be thankful than annoyed) and picking up the controller. The screen in front of her lit up with the view that would be livestreamed.
Marinette set her feet and pressed the button on the counter to indicate she was ready. She took a deep breath and waited for her opponent, rolling up and down on her toes as she tried to settle the nerves she’d told Max she didn’t have.
The voice channel crackled to life in her ear as Viperion put his headset on in his own pod.
“Ladybug vs. Viperion,” the dispassionate electronic voice announced, “Prepare for countdown to match start.”
“Ladybug, huh?” Viperion said, and Marinette blinked at the quiet, smooth voice. “Nice to meet you. I heard some new blood was tearing up the ladder. I’m excited to take you on.”
“Likewise,” Marinette told him, eyebrows raising slightly. “I didn’t expect to go up against a former champion so soon.” She’d been shocked when she saw his name on the list of computer-generated matchups she’d gotten at registration. He should have been much too high up on the ladder to get matched up against her. This was only her third match event in the Master League. She’d only moved up this month—and now she had a month to get out of the bottom 5% before she’d be dropped down to the lower leagues again.
So, champion or not, Viperion was going down.
“I had other commitments last year,” he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “So I’m in with the newbies this year. Don’t worry, I’ll be back up the ladder and out of your hair soon enough.”
Marinette scoffed but the ten second match countdown popped up before she could respond.
“Good luck, Ladybug,” Viperion said.
“Same to you, Viperion,” Marinette replied, eyes fixed on the big red numbers ticking down until the word FIGHT flashed once and the game began.
Marinette was used to trash talk, was even good at it. She’d come to enjoy trading quips and good-natured insults, at least until she started winning. Then her opponents tended to either get quiet or get nasty.
Viperion, by contrast, was nearly silent from the beginning. Every once in a while she thought she heard...humming? over her headset, but she wasn’t sure.
“Oh, nice,” he breathed finally, when she landed a major combo on him. “Oh, hell, here we go, it’s on now—” But it was almost like he was talking to himself rather than trying to trash talk her.
“You wanted it, I brought it,” she muttered back through the headset.
“Show me what you got, Ladybug,” he chuckled. “I can take it.”
Marinette’s eyebrows rose slightly at that. Cocky , she thought, grinning to herself at the thought of taking him down, former champion or no.
She wasn’t smiling for long. Viperion wasn’t cocky, he was right. He could take it. His snake-based mech specialized in status effects, and he used his haste and slow abilities masterfully to compensate for his relatively weak armor. He hadn’t neglected his damage stats either; his venom strike didn’t pack a lot of punch up front but the damage dealt over time added up. She’d never seen anyone use this combination of abilities so effectively without a partner to tank for them. Marinette’s lips got tighter and tighter as her health bar turned blue and then red. She was adapting, finding his weak spots, but not fast enough. She had him in the red but—Marinette smashed one last combo in desperation but she could see even as she did it that Viperion had the edge, and she sighed in frustration and let her controller fall on the counter in front of her as GAME OVER flashed in red letters on her screen, followed by the image of Viperion’s mech and the word WINNER over and over.
“Whew.” The breath Viperion blew out fuzzed over her microphone. “Nice try, Ladybug. Good game.”
Well, at least he was a gracious winner, she thought grumpily. “You too, Viperion,” she said, as sincerely as she could manage, and pulled her headset off with a sigh.
Max was waiting for her outside the pod with his phone in his hand, where he’d no doubt been watching the livestream of the match, and a sympathetic look on his face—at least, she thought he was giving her a sympathetic look from behind his dark glasses. “Too many variables with an unexpected opponent,” he reassured her. “And Viperion is the former champion. We’ll study the match and improve your odds for next time.”
Marinette mustered a smile and threw her arm around his neck, though nowadays she practically had to stand on tiptoe to do it. “Thanks Max.” He grinned, adjusting his glasses in the way he always did when he was pleased he’d said the right thing. “Well, Ladybug may be down but she’s not out, and Team Lucky Charm is still on top. I’ll win the rest of my matches and then we’ll tear up the two-on-two, right Pegasus?”
“Odds of victory 94.3%, Ladybug,” Max grinned, and she pulled her arm back to bump fists with him. Then she slapped him on the back, right on the big silver horseshoe on the back of his black hoodie. The skinny boy staggered, but chuckled, and handed Marinette back her own hoodie, red with black on the shoulders and black spots traveling up her forearms from the black cuffs, with a large five-spotted ladybug emblem on the back. She slipped it back on over her tank top and checked her reflection in the mirrored pillar framing the pod. The red mask dusted across her eyes with makeup, accented by black eyeliner dots, was still mostly intact. She gave her pigtails a quick tug each to tighten them and grabbed her black lipstick out of her pocket, reapplying quickly.
“All right,” she said, turning to find Max looking at his own reflection over her shoulder and adjusting the small silver horseshoe pendant hanging at his throat. She was still a little bitter that he was suddenly taller than her, but he just grinned when he caught her pouting at him. He’d been the small and skinny one for so long that he was totally fine with being a beanpole now. “Two more matches to go, and then we’re up.” She softened slightly. “You know you don’t have to wait for me. It’d be okay if you’d rather just wait and show up for the team matches. Or if you want to go check out the competition while I play.”
Max just smiled and shook his head. “I can’t abandon my teammate to her inevitable nerves in her hour of need.”
Marinette scrunched up her face. “I’m not that bad.”
Max just chuckled. “You have fifteen minutes before your next match,” he reminded her. “Given your usual patterns I suggest you use them for a bathroom break.”
Marinette groaned. “That’s creepy, Max,” she muttered. But she also followed his advice, the match with Viperion still on her mind. He was more adaptable than she expected, she reflected as she pouted her black-painted lips in thought. She was still frowning when she returned from the bathroom, but Max gave her an awkward punch in the arm, bringing her back to the present and she smiled at him again. Max was right, she’d beat Viperion next time, and losing to him just made beating her next opponents that much more important.
The rest of the day went much better. Marinette swept her the rest of her matches, including the all-important third one. The two-on-two competition was likewise satisfying. Ladybug and Pegasus had been playing together for a long time and they were a well-coordinated team. Marinette’s power and versatility coupled with Max’s diligent data gathering and analysis made them pretty unstoppable. They went undefeated and exited their pyrapods whooping and cheering, buzzed on their own success.
“Yes!” Marinette exclaimed, hugging Max. “We’re on the road, Max! One step closer to making Markov Robotics and Miraculous Designs a reality!”
“We still have a considerable distance to go before that happens,” Max cautioned, whipping out his calculator. Marinette put a hand gently over it.
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” she quoted cheerfully. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, Max.”
“Yes, of course,” Max smiled, putting away his calculator. “You are correct, Marinette. I did have concerns as to whether we would be able to succeed at this level after lingering at the top of the Diamond League so long. I won’t be able to accurately calculate our odds of success for a few more events, but the outcomes so far have been encouraging.”
“That’s the spirit!” Marinette cheered. Her step hesitated lightly. “Do you want to go to the post-match social?”
Max winced, looking as reluctant as she felt. “We probably should,” he said, shoulders slumping slightly. “We are new to this league, after all. It won’t help us to make a poor impression.”
“Or none,” Marinette sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Perhaps a community of more serious gamers will have a more mature attitude,” Max suggested hopefully. “The time commitments and skill level required at this level are not insignificant.”
Marinette smiled. “You’re right, Max. Way to look on the bright side! Come on, let’s make some new friends.”
Marinette took a deep breath as they entered the main hall, where quite a few people were milling around.
Of course, she noticed the clothes first. There was a fair amount of UMS gear on display—not surprising. Some people wore hats or pins or other small tokens referencing their mechas, but nobody, she noted with satisfaction, had anything nearly as cool or as customized, nor anything approaching a complete look, as she and Max did.
“Ladybug?”
Marinette turned and looked up in slight surprise. And then up a little further. The boy—man? young man—standing behind her was several inches taller than Max, and surprisingly well-built and tanned for a gamer. He was...kinda hot, actually, in a lean, slightly lanky sort of way, which made Marinette tense a little, but his smile was friendly and his blue eyes were...wow.
“I thought that must be you,” he smiled, indicating her clothes with a slight gesture. “Nice look.”
“Marinette designed and created our attire herself,” Max put in proudly as Marinette tried to remember how to make words.
“Oh, nice,” the stranger said with appreciation, and Marinette blinked.
“Viperion?” she asked. The voice was unmistakable.
“In the flesh. My name’s Luka. Nice to meet you,” Viperion said, his smile widening as he offered his hand. “Good game. Great game, actually, you were amazing. You really had me sweating.”
“Thanks,” Marinette replied, her smile tight, but Max nudged her and she managed something a little more sincere as she shook Luka’s hand, a little surprised to find it rough and calloused. Clearly gaming wasn’t his only pastime. (Not like that was special, it wasn’t hers either, and her fingertips were calloused too.) “I’m Marinette. Next time it’ll be better.”
“No doubt,” Luka said warmly, and his voice, smooth and deep and even more appealing without the tinny sound of the headsets, also gave the impression of gentleness even as he squeezed her hand lightly before letting go. “I’m looking forward to it. I hope we can play again sometime, Marinette, I had a lot of fun.”
Marinette’s smile turned a little more genuine in spite of how much she hated to lose. It had been a good match. “I did too, actually. You played a really good game, Luka. Oh, this is my two-on-two partner, Max—Pegasus.”
Luka smiled at Max, leaning in to shake hands with him as well. “Nice to meet you.”
He really was good looking, Marinette grudgingly admitted. Luka’s hair was black and cut short on the sides, but longer on top, hanging nearly into his eyes, and dyed the same turquoise as his mech. He had a jaw that could cut glass and a sharp chin and nose, but the overall impression was softened by an easy, dimpled grin, worn, comfortably tattered clothes (including the most dire hoodie Marinette had ever seen over a UMS shirt that must have been at least five years old), and relaxed attitude.
“I saw your matches in the co-op tournament,” Luka was saying as he pulled back from the handshake. “Congrats on your wins, you guys really destroyed everyone there.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t there, were you,” Marinette challenged, grin widening as she folded her arms and cocked a hip.
“Nah, I don’t usually play the two-on-two,” Luka laughed, and it was a pleasant laugh, genuine and not mocking. “The individual tournament’s more than enough challenge for me most days. I love video games, but they’re not all there is to life, you know?”
“Yeah,” Marinette nodded slowly, uncomfortable with the way her stomach suddenly felt like jelly. “That’s true—” She jolted suddenly as somebody crashed into her from behind. Luka put his hands out quickly, catching her shoulders.
“Hey, sorry—oh, it’s the bug,” a voice said behind her, followed by a beleaguered sigh. Marinette’s expression twisted slightly before she put on her game face and turned around to face the man who’d run into her. He had a goatee and wore a jacket with a ruff around the neck like a lion’s mane. “Thought I left you behind.”
“What a surprise,” Marinette said, her voice dripping with sweetness as she turned away from him slightly to make sure Max was okay where he’d been knocked into the rail. Max gave her a slight nod as he straightened his glasses and got his footing, waving away Luka’s offered hand. “I thought the same about you,” she continued, turning her back to Leo with her fakest smile.
“Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home,” he singsonged, and then sneered. “Before you get squashed.”
Marinette’s eyes narrowed, but she merely inspected her fingernails. “Not by you, apparently, considering how today’s match went.”
He went red in the face. “Listen, little bug—”
“Woah, rude much?” Luka said, folding his arms. “Come on, man, show some respect, we’re all competitors here.”
“And you are?”
“Luka,” he replied, a slight edge in his voice. “Viperion.”
“Oh, hey, Viperion. I’m Leo.” He held out his hand and leaned toward Luka, forcing Marinette to take a step back. She felt Max put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze, and tossed him a smile to show she was okay. “Nice to meet you, I didn’t know you were back this year. I watched you in the final a couple years ago, it was sick.”
Luka met his hand slowly and shook it. “Thanks,” he said, glancing at Marinette. “But we were talking, so if you don’t mind—”
“Oh, yeah, sure, I’m sure we’ll meet up again,” Leo said, taking a step back. “I’ll see you around, Viperion.”
“Not if I see you first,” muttered Luka as the guy walked away. He glanced at Marinette and Max. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Marinette chirped, with a hollow laugh. “He’s old news, I’m used to it.”
“That sucks,” Luka said bluntly, frowning. “You shouldn’t have to get used to that kind of crap,” he said, an edge of frustration in his voice that Marinette hadn’t heard from him even during the match. “Damnit, they were supposed to be stepping up enforcement of the sportsmanship guidelines when I left. I guess it fell through. Again,” he muttered, glancing at the bored looking official standing nearby.
“I gotta hand it to you, Ladybug—Marinette,” he continued. “You’re tough as nails, and not just in a match.” He glanced back in the direction Leo had gone and grinned. “You kicked his ass, huh?”
Marinette grinned back. “Wiped the floor with him.”
“Sweet.” Luka held out his hand for a fist bump and Marinette obliged.
“It won’t matter in a month,” Max said with certainty. “I don’t even need to calculate the odds; he won’t make it out of the bottom before the cutoff.” He adjusted his glasses. “His mech is powerful but his strategy is inconsistent and short-sighted.”
Luka blinked, glancing at Marinette, who shrugged and grinned. “If Max said it, then it’s as good as fact.”
Luka chuckled. “Is that so? Should I even ask about my odds?”
“No,” Marinette said quickly, just as Max began, “Actually, without additional data my predictions are only thirty percent reliable beyond the third month—”
Luka went from chuckling to full on laughing. “You two are funny. Well hey, you’ve certainly got my respect if it matters. I’m a little surprised you’ve only just moved up to Master, you’re really good.”
Marinette made a face. “We couldn’t make the minimum match count last year. Too many school commitments. It’s easier to work around a university schedule.”
“Team Lucky Charm was the Diamond League champion for the last two years,” Max announced proudly, though Marinette blushed a touch at the open boasting.
“Well, welcome to the big leagues,” Luka grinned. “Like I said, I hope we’ll play again, Marinette.”
“Statistically probable,” Max began, but Marinette stepped lightly on his foot and he shut his mouth.
“Oh we will,” she promised, eyes narrowing slightly though a smile was tugging at her lips. “I’ll see you in the playoffs, if nothing else. Then again,” she smirked. “You may not find it as easy to leave me behind as you think. I’ll be on your ass all the way to the top of the ladder.”
Luka gave her a slow grin that made her insides go all wobbly again as he checked the time on his phone. “I’m looking forward to it,” he told her, giving her a quick wave as he turned to go. “Nice meeting you both. See you guys next time.”
Marinette raised a hand automatically to wave back. He shot her a positively roguish smile before disappearing into the crowd.
And to her horror, Marinette blushed. Hard.
Behind her, Max snickered. Marinette threw an elbow back into his gut, but he dodged and just laughed harder.
“You’re doing well, Marinette,” Max reassured her from the small window at the top of her screen. “Your rank has been increasing after every match event. You easily got out of the bottom 5% before the drop cutoff, and Team Lucky Charm continues to climb the ladder as well. I’m not sure why you’re so focused on this.”
“Because I’m losing , Max,” Marinette complained. “My win rate against Viperion sucks , and you can’t deny it.” She threw herself back in her chair with a huff. “And I can’t even be mad about it. I’m mean I’m mad about it, but I’m mad because he’s a great player and I deserved to lose every time.”
“It’s true that your win-loss record against him is—” Marinette shot Max a glare. “Suboptimal,” he offered, with an apologetic shrug. “However, you are improving against him every time and you did win your last match.”
“One,” Marinette groaned. “One match out of six. The stupid computer keeps matching us up.”
“The fact remains that you have been more successful as you gain more experience playing him,” Max pointed out. Then he smirked. “And I don’t believe you are annoyed with being matched with Viperion at all.”
Marinette’s mouth drew into a pout. “Low, Max. So what if he’s cute? I still want to beat him.”
“I’m sure you do,” Max sniggered, and Marinette’s mouth dropped open.
“Max Kanté!” she gasped, grabbing a crumpled up piece of paper from her desk and pitching it at her webcam.
Max shrugged unrepentantly on the screen, unbothered by the projectile. “Kim has been my best friend for years. I am not as naive as people like to think.” He made a face. “Unfortunately.”
Marinette giggled.
“Admit it, Marinette,” Max said smugly, folding his arms. “You don’t hate Viperion.”
“No,” Marinette sighed. “I almost wish I could hate him, but I don’t.” He was just so... nice. And fun, honestly. She couldn’t even hate playing him because the more she played him, the more talkative he got, and she enjoyed his subtle trash talk and open teasing. It was...like playing with a friend.
A friend whose unreasonably attractive ass ( not that she was looking) Marinette was determined to kick.
Marinette groaned and let her face fall onto the pile of interviews and match analyses she was going through again. Not that any of it had helped the first time. Or the fifth. Or the fiftieth.
“That doesn’t look good,” came a teasing voice from behind her.
“Hi Alya,” Marinette mumbled without looking up. “Don’t mind me, just wallowing my in my failures.”
“Still haven’t beaten that one guy, huh?” Alya asked with a grin, and Marinette heard her throw herself down onto the chaise. “Hi Max!”
“Hi Alya,” Max replied.
“So what’s his name again?” Alya asked. “Viper?”
“Viperion,” Marinette corrected. “And once. I’ve beaten him one time out of six.”
“Is he a jerk?” Alya asked. “I know you have a lot of trouble with those guys.”
Marinette tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread over her face, but Alya’s widening eyes proved it would be futile anyway. “He’s not a jerk. He’s...sweet, actually. And funny. He seems like a nice guy.”
“A very attractive nice guy,” Max snickered again.
“Ooooh,” Alya giggled, and Marinette sat up, glaring at her traitor of a partner.
“So, wait,” Alya sat backwards in Marinette’s second chair, leaning her arms on the back of it. “Let me get this straight.” She held up one hand and began to tick off her fingers. “He’s hot. He’s nice. You know he’s good with his hands—”
“Alya!”
“She’s not wrong.” Max nodded sagely. “It’s true that the speed at which he executes his combos requires a higher than average level of dexterity.”
“Max!” Marinette whirled to face him and scowled. She was so going to have words with Kim.
Alya just grinned wickedly and kept going. “He knows how to change things up and keep it interesting—”
“ Alya!”
“And he knows when to slow things down and when to go hard and fast—”
“ ALYA CÉSAIRE !”
Max burst out laughing and Alya raised her hands and eyebrows both. “You said it all girl, I’m just recapping!”
“Oh my God,” Marinette groaned, putting her head in her arms on her desk. “I didn’t say any of it like that !”
"Nevertheless, you did say it," Max pointed out, trying to smother his laughter without much success.
Marinette muffled her scream in her arms and then shot up, reaching for the computer. “Goodbye, Max. You better find a new partner because I have to go kill my best friend now.” She switched off the video call and dropped her head back into her arms.
“You liiiiiike this guy,” Alya teased.
“Yes,” Marinette muttered, giving into the inevitable.
Alya started slightly, sitting up straight. “Wait, what?”
Marinette raised her head. “I do like him,” she whined. “I really, really like him.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?” Alya asked, grinning.
Marinette sighed and pitched a gaming magazine at her. It fell open immediately to the well-worn interview. Marinette knew it practically by heart, but Alya raised her eyebrows and began reading aloud.
“Viperion, real name Luka Couffaine. Twenty years old—Ooh, an older man, Marinette—”
“Two years,” Marinette muttered, letting her face fall onto her arms. “Barely. Not a big deal.”
Alya continued to read what Marinette already knew; other hobbies included music and motorcycles, no girlfriend not that it mattered why did they even ask that —it all seemed to point to him being a laid back, relaxed kind of guy, who played because he genuinely enjoyed the game and was good at it. He was competitive enough to keep his edge but he didn’t take the competition too seriously.
“So how much time have you actually spent talking to him?” Alya asked, giving her a sharp look.
“We talk every time I play him,” Marinette said, sitting up in her chair. “He comes to find me after every match, shakes my hand and says I played a good game, and we chat for a few minutes about whatever.” She was starting to look forward to their short conversations, to his rough hand enveloping hers and the lilt in his smooth voice when he teased her. Even if Max gave her hell afterwards because even he wasn’t so obsessed with his numbers that he couldn’t tell something was going on. Marinette might not be the stuttering, blushing mess that she had been in her younger years, but she still had trouble keeping her feelings off her face.
“How’d he do when you beat him?” Alya asked, eyebrows raised, and Marinette turned away to straighten the knick knacks on her desk so that Alya wouldn’t see her smile.
“Just the same. He seemed just as happy as when he wins. All he said was not to get too comfortable because we’re not in the playoffs yet.” Her smile fell slightly. “Which is true,” she sighed. “If I can’t beat him in the finals it doesn’t matter how many rank matches I win. He can afford a loss or two, even to me.”
“Even to you,” Alya echoed with a scoff. “Marinette, you’re the best UMS player I’ve ever seen.”
Marinette refrained from pointing out that Alya hadn’t actually seen that many. “That doesn’t always matter,” she shrugged. “Guys don’t like getting beat by a girl. Really, our rankings are so close that losing to me doesn’t hurt him that much. He doesn’t lose anything by being nice to me.”
“But…” Alya raised her eyebrows, and Marinette blushed.
“He’s nice to everybody,” she said with a small shrug, turning to her desk and tossing another magazine Alya’s way. “He’s a popular player. Not only is he a former champion but he’s personable and he has such a unique playing style, his matches get a lot of traffic on the livestream. They interview him a lot—”
“Probably doesn’t hurt that he’s cute,” Alya commented. “From a marketing perspective, he’s a great face to put out there to the public. Helps dispel the idea that all gamers are—” Her eyes darted towards the screen where Max had been a moment ago. “Nerds,” she finished finally with an apologetic shrug.
Marinette rolled her eyes but conceded the point. “He talks about sportsmanship and not taking yourself too seriously in almost every interview,” she said, pointing to the magazine in Alya’s hands. She herself had it practically memorized.
Q. I understand you’ve been calling for the league to up the enforcement of their sportsmanship practices. There’s been discussions about implementing a fine or rank penalty for unsportsmanlike behavior.
A. Yeah, I have, and I think that’s really important. I mean, when it comes down to it, we’re all here to play the game because we love it. Of course the money matters, but it’s not the only thing that matters. Making money off something you love is great in theory but if you let the thought of the money take all the joy out of what you’re doing, then you might as well work a desk job and let your hobbies stay hobbies. We’re not gladiators fighting to the death. We lose nothing by treating our opponents with respect, no matter whether it’s a girl or a guy, or somebody younger or older than you or with a different skin color, we’re all here because we love the game, and we ought to respect that love in other people. Bottom line, the league has guidelines in place for a reason and they should be enforced.
Marinette wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Really, he was right; the league was too lax about enforcing their sportsmanship guidelines across the board, and players like Marinette and Max suffered the most for it. A certain amount of trash talk was accepted but using abusive language or attacking a player’s sex, sexuality, or race was supposed to be against the rules, but she’d seen those rules enforced only a handful of times in any of the leagues she’d played in, and without any penalty to back it up, the rules largely went ignored.
Alya’s whistle snapped her back to reality. “Girl, you’ve got it bad. I haven’t seen you this deep in lala land since—”
Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands. “No. No, Alya, I can’t do this again,” she whined. “He’s older, he’s cool, he’s probably got a million people interested in him, and I’m—”
“You.” Alya began ticking off her fingers. “You’re a brilliant designer and a super creative mind. You’re also like, the nicest of the nice when you’re not in a competition. You know famous people—”
“One famous person.”
“Jagged Stone. Nadia Chamack. My mother.”
Marinette sighed, slumping. “Fine.”
“I’m just saying, don’t give up before you even talk to the guy,” Alya said, getting up to sit in Marinette’s second desk chair and take Marinette’s hands in hers. “I know the last time shook you up but you’re still an amazing person and just because Adrien couldn’t see it doesn’t mean that no one else will.”
Marinette managed a half-hearted smile and some kind of response that must have satisfied Alya, because before long her best friend was chattering on about other topics.
The thing was, Alya just didn’t understand. Many, many of the male gamers Marinette met were very nice, normal people, a small percentage were a little too eager to be friendly, some were fine until she beat them and then they became cold and closed-mouthed around her.
Then there were some who were downright hostile from the first moment she stepped in. Those nasty standouts were the reason she leaned into her Ladybug persona, separating Marinette from the gaming world as much as possible. Her hoodie and mask makeup were armor as much as branding, allowing her to slip into a tough shell that could handle the abuse hurled at her.
She could see it in Max, too, the difference between his everyday self and Pegasus. As her partner he both witnessed the vitriol flung at her and came in for a fair share himself, and not just because of his association with her. She felt guilty about it but Max had stood by her even when she suggested he might be better off with a male partner, so she did her best to keep up her bluster and sharpen her tongue to shield her sensitive partner from the worst of the abuse. Team Lucky Charm always showed up to the matches with their game faces on, Pegasus behind his dark glasses and Ladybug with her blue eyes burning defiance from her red and black mask.
Marinette and Max had agreed to make the commitment to move up to the Master League because they both had big plans and big dreams. Marinette depended on her gaming winnings to support her more experimental designs, which, when they went well, earned her more commissions. Every commission took her one step closer to her dream of owning her own boutique line. Max used his gaming money to fund his robotics research and experimentation. Both their dreams were on the line. No matter how much fun she had playing Viperion, sooner or later, they’d be out of these rank matches and facing each other in playoff elimination matches. She had to figure out how to beat him before then.
Ladybug couldn’t afford to be getting soft over a velvet voice, a slow smile, and gentle eyes, no matter how many butterflies took flight in her stomach when she talked to him. No matter how good of a guy he was, Ladybug needed to beat Viperion.