Jagged Stone liked Paris more than any other place he usually hit on his tours, akumas or not.
Recently, through overhearing a conversation between Penny and her surprisingly sad-looking girlfriend Nathalie, he’d overheard that Emilie’s old friend Gabriel was Hawkmoth. He owed Emilie a lot - when he’d been a transfer student at the same lycée as her, she’d helped him fit in, and he’d actually been the one to accidentally get the two together at all. He’d confronted the pair and learned everything, and he’d even promised to keep Nathalie’s involvement quiet, as long as she didn’t do any more work as Mayura unless for a good reason. Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t need the stress - they were just kids!
Jagged figured out why he was doing it pretty quickly after that. He missed Emilie dearly, of course, but he didn’t think he would do what Hawkmoth had done, especially not to himself, a person who in his unfortunately-biased opinion thought Gabriel had been at least okay with. Well, Jagged Stone thought to himself while waiting, if all’s fair in love and war…
He knew Nathalie may not be entirely innocent, but she was hurting from some sort of curse & needed treatment badly. Coming up with a plan, he had called Marinette - it was the weekend, luckily , so her education wouldn’t be interfered with - under the excuse of a surprise. Marinette, suspicious as she seemed, agreed, and she was at the hotel lickety-split.
Yeah, Jagged knew Marinette was Ladybug; the rest of the city may be a bit snobbish towards Americans like him, but the only ones that he knew that were in the know were him, Penny, & while there was that little fairy that hid in her bag, Jagged figured she had something to do with the whole thing.
Jagged & Penny told Marinette everything when she arrived - Nathalie would have been there too, but she didn’t want to know Ladybug’s identity in case she was beguiled into rejoining Hawkmoth or akumatized, so she just gave them necessary information and went back to the mansion to keep up appearances with Gabriel.
Marinette thanked him profusely, her eyes shining brighter than his when he got his first guitar one Hanukkah night years ago. He’d promised to not tell a soul, and the thankful look she gave him as she left was enough to inform him she trusted his word.
As is imaginable, the battle Hawkmoth had been forced into happened the next day. Things were looking bad, however, and Jagged found himself seriously worrying as Chat Noir barely dodged an attack from Hawkmoth that would have took his head off of his shoulders.
When Hawkmoth just nicked Ladybug with his cane, Jagged snapped. That was it. Now, it’s personal. Frantic as a mad hornet, Jagged sped through the hotel before taking his old driving lessons to heart and using his tour limo to zoom down the roads of Paris, an equipment bag riding shotgun
What Jagged was going to accomplish, he wasn’t sure, but he just knew he had to do something. As if it had been waiting, the second the car stopped and he stepped outside - right outside the battlefield’s view - a voice spoke to him. It reminded him of himself but sounded nothing like him at all.
“Are you ready to begin?”
The mother of all headaches began to wreak havoc upon his temple, and Jagged nearly hit the dirt, which would have gathered Hawkmoth’s attention and potentially ended up with him dead or in serious need of medical attention.
“Your aspirations to help the girl and stop someone you thought was a friend are both mighty and honorable, Jamison. I will not repeat that name if you wish not to hear it again.”
“Yeah, that would be great…now, who are you?” Jagged grumbled at the memories that name brought up, mind reeling from the pain but still managing to recover and register the mask on his face. All of a sudden, he felt the need to rip it off, and so he grabbed onto it and prepared to make an entrance that could only work with the famous musician doing it.
“Is it not obvious, Jagged Stone? Let our contract explain it, then. I am thou, thou art I… if you seek to be the protector Paris and even its heroes need right now, then let me enable you to do just so!”
Hawkmoth had knocked Chat down in the meantime, and was about to skewer him first when his enhanced senses overheard a voice.
“Let’s rock the world, then…” a word - presumably a name - was uttered in a much bolder tone, but Hawkmoth could not hear what was said.
Flames rose up from nowhere, surrounding a mask-holding figure in a stylish leather punk outfit that might have inspired Hawkmoth to start collaborating with that oafish loudmouth Jagged Stone - if not some other gaudy-styled rock or metal musicians - had he not been busy.
Hawkmoth flinched as the flames suddenly petered out like a gust of wind in the fall, leaving the new hero behind with an odd figure in tow.
Sitting on a floating chair, this seemingly superhuman creature held an unidentified musical instrument in his hand. It looked like a harp, but it was small enough to hold like the horseshoe it would be like without the strings. He was clad in what looked like a toga, but that was Roman, and it was then that Hawkmoth realized what it was - his Fashion History professor in university called it an Ionic chiton.
The mask-holding figure - who could not have been a Miraculous wielder, given the lack of animal theme in his costume - scowled at him and began speaking.
“Well, haven’t you hit rock bottom, Hawkmoth? Killing people, killing kids , all for some magic jewelry? Is this really worth it?”
“For her, anything!” Hawkmoth spat, fury fully encompassing his voice.
“Ooh, watch your temper, big guy,” the newcomer teased, “there’s a villain around here who hurts people by manipulating their emotions despite refusing to show his to anyone. Wouldn’t want him getting his nasty mitts on you… actually, yeah, I would. But the monster won’t do it, because that monster is you! If you won’t stop, I’ll do it for you!”
Slightly intimidated but refusing to show it, Hawkmoth just growled and brandished his cane sword.
“Well, can’t say I didn’t warn you… let’s roll, then. Shred them… Terpander !”