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toxinellebug · 3 months

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HESPERIA/BETTERFLY kamikotized heroes Headcanons PART 3

Warning, this may make animal lovers uneasy for a bit.

This one is going to take place during the day, around Adrien and Marinette’s 2nd week of school, so they are still toying around with their Miraculous’ at night for their own personal gains, and have not yet suffered the consequences and been instructed to hunt down the Butterfly-man in order to save themselves.

Promise that the next one will show our fav villains in action, but for now I hope there are fans of Mr. Pigeon reading this because-

Xavier Ramier becomes……

Sauvaquateur!

(This is my attempt at combining the French words for “Savior” and “Aquatic”, into a new, superhero name. Fun fact: In 1979, the U.S. Coast Guard trained pigeons to locate people lost at sea and they had a 90% success rate!

Also remember S4, ep 4, “Mr. Pigeon 72”)

As mentioned in my post “Shadybug’s Paris Headcanons”, in this universe, pigeons are far less welcome in Paris than they are in the Good/Prime universe, so there is no need for a Pigeon-Tamer.

There IS a need for Environmental technicians though… a DIRE need.

(In this Universe, imagine the world under The Supreme’s control as slightly less extreme than North Korea under Kim Jong-un, and about as polluted as Gaya, India.)

Luckily, construction plans for “Project Oxygen”, endorsed by M. Bertrand King, have been submitted and are awaiting approval from The Supreme. In theory, once they’ve built enough towers, it should take care of the awful smog problem in Paris.

But that won’t help with toxicity in the soil and water.

Which is why M. Ramier is outside on a particularly gloomy day, in full yellow hazmat gear and neon orange rubber galoshes, attempting to collect water samples from the Saint-Martin canal.

Trash aside, people just didn’t realize how much of the poison they put out for rats (and those poor, adorable, misunderstood pigeons) ended up in the Seine, resulting in its present, disgustingly polluted state.

Xavier can’t help but daydream of simpler times he has never known, like the ones depicted in old photographs and paintings.

In his personal collection, he has a precious family keepsake, a postcard to his great-grandfather sent by his great-uncle in 1912;

It depicted such a happy scene of blue skies and even bluer water, and people gathered to merrily feed the pigeons with smiling faces near the Seine.

Not for the first time, he can’t help but wonder if perhaps he was simply born in the wrong decade…

Instead, here he is, collecting vial after vial of what is closer to sludge than water at different points along the canal for chemical analysis and comparison.

It’s dull and dreary.

Or, at least it’s dreary…

The dullness comes to a rather abrupt end when a low bellowing sound draws his attention to a large, sludge covered something twitching near the bank beneath The Pont des Arts, (or as we know it, The Love Lock bridge, though in this universe there are no locks) a mere 4 meters away from him.

Mon Dieu!

He thought the rumors were merely that; rumors dreamt up to keep children away from the filthy water.

But blessed be; that really is a crocodile!

Where on earth did he come from??

(Somewhere in a shoddy apartment, Jagged, or rather, Jared, sneezes and feels a strange pang of guilt.)

The poor fellow doesn’t look too well; not that M. Ramier claimed to have any expertise in crocodilian health, but he was almost certain that the creature’s spine was not meant to be quite so prominent.

He also could not recall ever seeing a crocodile lay on its side like that, half floating in the water, half… Hold on, was it tethered to something????

Merciful heavens! Discarded plastic Enforcer barrier tape had found its way into the canal and gotten tangled up around this poor beast’s jowls and caught upon who knows what kind of garbage submerged near the bank.

Sloshing his way over, M. Ramier had only intended to get close enough to attempt to at least cut the plastic tape where it was tethered closest to the bank in hopes the lack of tension would loosen it enough that the crocodile could free himself.

But the croc sensed his approach and grew frightened, letting out a warning growl and weakly thrashing his too thin tail, before jerking wildly and tightening the noose in the process.

At this rate the beast would strangle himself!

This was terrible!

Oh, that poor creature….

But, what could he do? He was merely an Environmental Technician, trained to collect and study water samples.

He supposed he could try contacting the ‘Ménagerie du Jardin des Plantes’ (the zoo), but by the time they decided to send someone over, if they decided to send anyone over, it might be too late!

If only he could help… He became an Environmental Technician due to his love of animals and a desire to make the world a better place for them, and now there was a creature in desperate need of aid right in front of him and he was completely powerless…

He does not see the glowing butterfly perch upon the sample vial in his gloved hand, nor does he notice it vanish.

He’s far too preoccupied with the sudden voice in his head:

The voice introduces himself as Betterfly, and claims that he too shares a love of animals.

The voice offers him the power he needs to save this suffering creature, and asks if he will accept this gift for the greater good.

M. Ramier accepts, though, he’s not really Xavier Ramier anymore…

The stained yellow of his suit melts away to a pristine white, and the neon orange of his rubber boots has given way to a striking cyan and become more fin-like in appearance.

His rubber gloves share the same shade of blue, as does the “star of life” symbol overlaying the outline of a rescue bird on his chest.

Somehow, his sample vial has inexplicably transformed into a rather impressive hand operated bilge pump.

He feels stronger, more confident, more daring.

He is now Sauvaquateur!

Holstering the pump at his waist, he dives into the water with the grace of a tropical clawed frog, Sauvaquateur swims with amphibious ease thanks to his new, webbed gloves, and is able to take a firm hold of the weakened crocodile and bring him the the bank of the canal.

(Another fun fact: The Seine is 9.5 metres or 31 ft. deep and you should absolutely NOT swim in it without superpowers.)

With his newfound strength, he makes quick work of tearing that horrid plastic off the poor creature, and feels satisfied that he has successfully rescued his new, scaly friend!

…..Except, the crocodiles eyes do not seem to be open.

He’s also rather still, perhaps too still-

He’s not breathing!

Panic takes hold as Sauvaquateur fears he was too late after all, but the voice returns to him;

Betterfly urges him to remain calm, hope is not lost yet, but he must come to his senses!

….That’s right, he mustn’t give up!

Sauvaquateur presses his head against the crocodile’s rough back near where he thinks a heart should be.

Perhaps it is due to Betterfly’s “gift”, but even through his suit’s protective helmet, Sauvaquateur swears he can hear a weak thumping sound.

There is a heartbeat but no breath; what should he do? How does one go about performing rescue breathing on a crocodile?! Would that even help????

Again, Betterfly’s soothing voice echoed in his mind, urging him to look closer…

Looking closely, the crocodile seemed to have an awfully bloated stomach yet such a thin looking back… Could it be-?

Eyeing the bilge pump holstered at his side, Sauvaquateur knew he had to try!

Using incredible strength he now unfathomably possessed, he did what should not have been humanly possible; he pried the crocodile’s mouth open and placed the hose of the pump inside.

It only takes 5 good thrusts of the plunger rod before a burst of toxic brown water and wads of plastic come spewing out of the pump’s outlet.

Sauvaquateur shudders at the thought of all that rubbish inside that poor animal.

It’s a feeling that Betterfly shares.

Its stomach noticeably deflated, and its scales a shade less pale than they were only a few moments prior, the crocodile takes a deep, relieving breath.

Sauvaquateur does the same.

With the croc out of immediate danger, and now fast asleep, Betterfly praises Sauvaquateur for his valiant efforts, and suggests that now would be a good time to let someone more experienced take over.

Sauvaquateur agrees.

He can feel the “gift” leave him- like the sensation of color being gently stripped away.

He is left in his muddy, yellow suit, and his plain orange rubber boots. His water sample vial, now empty, rests at his feet.

M. Ramier is not sure what just happened exactly; it’s a bit fuzzy, like waking up from a peculiar dream.

He could’ve sworn he was talking to someone just now….

But the loud snoring from the large, slumbering reptile beside him reminds him that there are far more pressing matters at hand.

Moving to a more comfortable distance, Xavier unzips his outer suit in order to pull out his mobile phone and place a call.

He is placed on hold for frustrating amount of time before a M. Césaire answers and M. Ramier informs him of his predicament.

It’s not long after that when Enforcer sirens sound along the banks, forming a protective barrier and trying to hold back inquiring news photographers eager to get a shot of “Saint Martin’s Beast.”

M. Césaire is there as well, and he expertly secures the crocodile’s jaws shut before he and an assistant lift and haul the creature into the back of a van to transport to the zoo for examination.

M. Ramier is harshly admonished for getting so close to such a dangerous animal and is informed that it is a miracle he is unharmed.

A miracle?

Is there such a thing anymore?

….Perhaps.

PART 2

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