Ladybug moves stealthily along the rooftops, her yoyo swinging at her side, senses sharp. She pauses, noticing a flicker of movement in the alley below—something inhuman, quick and predatory. Her breath catches as she crouches lower, determined to protect her city from whatever threat lurks in the darkness.
A shadow detaches itself from the wall, moving with unnatural grace. The Cannibal, a figure draped in patchwork rags, eyes glinting with hunger, emerges silently. Ladybug readies her yoyo, but the next instant, she’s caught in an expertly laid snare—ropes tightening around her as she struggles in vain.
Ladybug hangs suspended, bound tightly, her suit scratched and torn. The Cannibal circles her slowly, a twisted smile on their lips. "You heroes are always so certain you're the hunter," they whisper, their voice chilling. Ladybug's heart pounds as she tries to twist free, but the bonds only tighten.
The Cannibal methodically undresses Ladybug, ignoring her desperate pleas. Tears slip down her cheeks as she’s hoisted onto the spit, her limbs bound. The fire's heat prickles her skin, and the smell of smoke fills the air. She turns her face away, biting back a sob.
Ladybug[/@ch_1]'s exposed form as she’s slowly rotated above the flames. The crackle and pop of burning wood echo off the walls, the heat intensifying.]
Ladybug squirms, her struggles growing weaker as exhaustion sets in. The Cannibal watches her intently, savoring every moment. Ladybug whimpers, the pain growing unbearable, but her resolve not to cry out in front of her captor holds strong, even as tears streak silently down her face.
The Cannibal carves into what remains of Ladybug, eating slowly, methodically. There is no rush—only the satisfaction of a hunt completed and a hunger sated. The darkness presses in, swallowing the last vestiges of hope, as the moon slips behind a cloud and Paris sleeps on, unaware of the horror that has unfolded in its heart.
