(AN: First thing's first—I'm sorry for how long this author's note is. But I have a lot of things to say, and I also promise that this will be the ONLY author's note.
After I wrote "Hero Worship", I had hoped that I had put that idea down and I could move on with my writing life… however, I couldn't help but continue the idea. So, yes, this IS a continuation of another fic I've written. I hate holding stories hostage by forcing readers to read an earlier installment, so I've tried to make things as clear as possible.
And speaking of clarity… I wrote this in a much different manner than any other chapter-long fic—that is, I wrote the entire fic BEFORE posting it online. I wrote it before dividing it into chapters; thus, some of the chapter breaks might seem a bit odd. Also, there are many things early on that won't make a whole lot of sense until after you've read the fic as a whole. It's a change for me, certainly. You'll have to tell me if I should continue the method.
Seeing as it is rather long, however, I don't intend on posting all the chapters at once, because I know that would scare people off (as if the summary hasn't already!). So I'll be posting a new chapter every Friday. There are ten chapters—well, nine and a short epilogue.
Some of the chapter titles need explanations—for example, the title of this chapter, "Doctor Faustus", comes from the name of a Christopher Marlowe play in which the title character sells his soul to the devil in exchange for vast knowledge. Make your own judgments as to how this fits with this chapter, or to the story as a whole. Chapter five is named after an Alan Parsons Project song that completely and totally inspired this entire story, but chapter five especially. (I would have given the name of that chapter to the actual story in its entirety, but seeing as it has the word "damned" in the title, I didn't want to risk getting my butt banned.) Chapter seven was named after a song of the same name from the animated short "The Snowman". Hauntingly beautiful; I would highly recommend it. :)
Also, this story WILL be bumped up to an M rating by chapter three, most likely. Why am I only rating it T for now? …So more people will see it before it gets hidden in the M section. Yeegods, I'm a sneaky devil. I'm not going to be all strict on you and say if you're below such and such age you shouldn't read this story, but if you're too emotionally immature to handle an M rated story, then don't bother reading any further.
I also hate listing the pairings featured in my stories because I love keeping secrets, but I figure I might as well bold that this story is unashamedly Mojo Jojo/Blossom. I do this for two reasons—one, so those of you who (quite rationally, I might add) find this pairing to be a bit off-putting can avoid it now, and two, for the (coughpervertedcough) people like me who actually DO like this pairing and have to swim through oceans of PPG/RRB fanfics to find one.
Character descriptions have purposely been left rather vague, because I am a staunch defender of using your imaginations. You can imagine the girls looking like the slutty City of Clipsville versions, you can imagine them looking like the anime versions—hell, you can imagine them looking like your grandma for all I care. It really doesn't affect the story, at any rate.
Of course, the Powerpuff Girls and all related characters are not mine. They belong to Craig McCracken and Cartoon Network, and I am only borrowing them without asking for my own writing wishes. Please don't sue me.
And now, on with the story. FINALLY.)
O.o.O
Blossom Utonium HATED school.
With a passion.
Surprising? Well, from the limited perspective of "she's the smartest Powerpuff Girl, so she must like school!" then perhaps. But it was precisely Blossom's astronomical intelligence that made her despise school so much.
She was being taught things that she had known for years.
She was fifteen years old. Ten, actually, but her father, Professor Utonium, had created her and her sisters as five-year-olds and had convinced the school system to place them accordingly. And yet that still wasn't enough for Blossom. She was in senior level classes while only a sophomore—and she never, ever got a grade lower than an A plus. This stemmed more from just an astounding level of understanding.
Blossom had perfect memory. It didn't matter when she had read it, when she had heard it, when it had happened to her—Blossom remembered everything. Every. Last. Detail. She could recite, word-perfect, movies that she had only seen once. It had taken awhile for herself and the Professor to realize this new superpower—and her sisters were not pleased. Especially Buttercup. It had to be Blossom with the really special powers—there had always been that leadership ability, then there was the ice breath, and now the memory?
Well, having perfect memory wasn't all Buttercup was chalking it up to be. Battles that had long since faded out of Bubbles and Buttercup's minds were still crystal-clear to Blossom. Every nerve-wracking decision. Every mocking sneer from whatever villain they had been facing. And, depending on the particular episode, every mistake. Every death of an innocent civilian. Every ill-planned move… always on Blossom's part.
She was often accused of being too analytical, but with such a power like hers, how could she help but be otherwise? She would have gladly given up her power to Buttercup if she could. There were so many memories that she would love to be rid of forever. Memories that reminded her how screwed up she had been—for her entire life, basically. No one should remember her crush from the age five this well—even if the object of said crush went on to play a major role in the next few years of her life, as Blossom's had!
Of course, that crush—that connection, that union of souls, more like it—was just another factor of what made Blossom a freak. Even compared to her sisters—and heaven knows, they were far from normal themselves.
"I swear, I am far too young to be getting carpal tunnel syndrome."
Blossom had been sitting outside of the school building, waiting for her sisters to arrive. It was the end of the school day, and for some reason Buttercup and Bubbles were always slower coming out than Blossom.
Buttercup flexed her left hand painfully. "Why would I even get carpal tunnel syndrome anyway? I don't even have fingers."
"Were you doing anything strenuous with your hands today?" Blossom asked.
"No!" cried Buttercup. "Nothing that would really make it feel this sore, at least. I mean, it's not like I take notes or anything…"
"You ought to," said Blossom. "Your grades might improve."
"You're one to talk," snapped Buttercup. "You never study."
"I don't need to," sighed Blossom, sounding as if she had explained this for the hundredth time. Actually, it was the hundred and thirty-second time, to be precise… because Blossom could remember every time Buttercup made such a snippety comment. "I remember everything the first time I read it…"
"I know, I know," interrupted Buttercup. "Must be easy for you."
"You could do better, if you just applied yourself more," said Blossom sternly. Buttercup—and Bubbles too, for that matter—were both very intelligent, but for various reasons they both had their struggles in the classroom. Buttercup's were due to just plain apathy. She had no desire to expound any more effort than what was necessary. As for Bubbles, she did try but she was far too easily distracted by other things to spend a decent amount of time studying. Still, they both managed to get fairly decent grades, despite this.
Speaking of Bubbles…
"Have you seen Bubbles?" Buttercup asked Blossom.
"Not since jazz band," said Blossom.
"Usually I'm the last one out here," said Buttercup. "I wonder what's taking her so long?"
"I'm here, I'm here!" called out Bubbles's sing-song voice as she ran up to her sisters. "Sorry I'm late! I had an essay test for Ms. Malcolm—I was writing nonstop for forty-five minutes! And I still wasn't finished by the time the bell rang! It was murder!"
"Ugh, I feel your pain," said Buttercup. "I'm glad I got Mr. Otto for history instead."
"Are you girls ready to go home?" asked Blossom.
"Been ready," said Buttercup, shooting an offending glance at the high school. "Let's roll!"
The girls took off to the sky, hearing clearly a new student in town gasp, "Oh my God! Look at that!"
"All these new people to Townsville are so cute," said Bubbles with a giggle. "You'd think they've never seen anyone fly before!"
"Bubbles, they most likely have neverseen anyone fly before," sighed Blossom wearily.
"Are you alright, Blossom?" Buttercup asked. "You've been acting really out of it these past few days. Is something the matter?"
"Well, it's—it's nothing," said Blossom quietly. She was lying through her teeth—it was actually something huge. It was just a few days ago that she had seen someone she had never hoped to see again, and in doing so found out how short her life was going to be.
She might even be dying at this very moment… and it was all his fault.
"Like hell it's nothing," said Buttercup. "You haven't smiled for at least a week! Not that you smile much anymore anyway…"
"I'm worried too, Blossom," said Bubbles, her eyes wide with concern. "I remember back when we were little kids you were happy all the time, but you just seem so sad and depressed all the time. And now you're even sadder and depressed-er!"
"More depressed," corrected Buttercup. "Bubbles, you still talk like a five-year-old."
"It's my memory, Bubbles," said Blossom, focusing her eyes on the ground as the girls flew at a leisurely pace to their home. "Think of what it would be like, to remember everything that ever happened to you as clearly as if it were still happening, right at this very moment. It would be hard enough for someone with a relatively easy life, but for people like us… all the bad things we've experienced…"
"We've experienced good things too," said Bubbles softly. "Maybe you should try to remember them."
"I try, Bubbles," said Blossom, turning to Bubbles and giving her a comforting smile. It rather hurt her lips to do that. They're right—it HAS been awhile since I've smiled, Blossom thought to herself.
The girls landed at their suburban house and walked inside. "We're home, Professor!" Buttercup called.
There were a few moments of silence—abruptly broken when Professor Utonium flung open the door to his laboratory. His hands seemed to be stained with various chemicals—as they usually were. "Hi girls!" he said cheerfully. "How was school?"
"Okay, I guess," said Buttercup.
"Not for me! I had two tests!" cried Bubbles piteously.
"It was boring, as always, Professor," sighed Blossom.
The Professor gave Blossom a thoughtful look. "You know, Blossom, you're welcome to borrow any of my books on nuclear fission—"
"I read them all six years ago," said Blossom.
"Oh… really?" asked the Professor. "I didn't know that you—"
"The last one I read was 'The Future of Nuclear Fission Testing', written by Dr. Ian Quint, and I read that one on June eighteenth, more than six years ago."
Buttercup scowled. "Alright, now you're just showing off."
"Well, Blossom…" the Professor said slowly, "to tell you the truth I am a bit concerned for you—"
"You can save it," said Blossom, her eyes downcast. "Bubbles and Buttercup just said the same thing."
"But I am," emphasized the Professor. "A brain like yours should be constantly growing and developing. School should enhance you, not bore you."
"What more can I do?" asked Blossom, her voice sounding desperate. "When I remember every single thing I've ever read, all I can do is study languages and play sports, since at least those vary each time they're played! And I've already taught myself Spanish, French, German, Portuguese, Latin, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Russian, Hungarian, Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, Filipino, Yiddish, Hindi, and Swahili—and you know how impossible it is to find books and programs to help you learn any other languages than that! And I can't join any sports teams at school. It wouldn't be fair to the other players, because of my super powers."
"Whoa, wait… how many languages can you speak again?" asked Bubbles in shock.
"Eighteen," said Blossom, sounding disappointed in herself.
"You're muscling into my special superpower," Bubbles grumbled. "How would you like it if I got ice breath?"
"Now, Bubbles," said the Professor, putting an arm around his blonde daughter, "Blossom had to learn all those languages on her own, while you were born with the ability to understand all forms of communication."
"Oh yes, I know sign language too," added Blossom. "I neglected to classify that as a language."
"Ah, so you did forget something!" cried Buttercup.
"I didn't forget!" cried Blossom indignantly. "It was merely an oversight! Besides, I can only read sign language when someone else uses it. I can't use it… because I don't have fingers!"
"Neither do we!" shrieked Bubbles and Buttercup.
"That's enough, girls!" cried the Professor, standing between Blossom on one side and Bubbles and Buttercup on the other. "Now, I can tell that all three of you had a trying day at school. Maybe you should spend some time away from each other for awhile!"
"We don't need to be seperat—" Buttercup began.
"Alone time sounds wonderful," Blossom interrupted. "I'll be in our room. Don't disturb me." Without leaving any time for argument, Blossom shot up the stairs and up to their room.
Bubbles and Buttercup exchanged a "something is definitely wrong with her" look amongst themselves.
O.o.O
Blossom sat on her bed in the girls' room, debating to herself whether or not to tell her sisters who she had seen again, after all those years… or whether she should keep it to herself.
She was definitely leaning towards the latter. Explaining her sudden sullenness—drastic even by her standards—would cause even more questions. Questions that Blossom did not care to answer. Questions, in fact, that Blossom couldn't even answer herself.
Blossom gulped, having made her decision. She wasn't going to tell them. Heck, Bubbles and Buttercup had probably nearly forgotten about Mojo Jojo, it had been so long since they had encountered him—no, that was ridiculous. It had been six years, but Mojo had caused them so much trouble the first four years of their lives that there was no way even Bubbles and Buttercup could forget him.
Neither could Blossom, even if she didn't have perfect memory.
Her stomach tightened as she felt herself reliving that memory again—he BETRAYED her, he CRUSHED her, she had TRUSTED him, RESPECTED him, ADMIRED him, LOVED him with all the fervor of a lost little girl, and he turned around and broke her heart.
A slight knock on the door thankfully broke Blossom out of her melancholy musings.
"Blossom? Can I come in?" It was Bubbles.
"Sure," said Blossom. No sense in keeping Bubbles out… then she'd really be worried.
Bubbles hovered over to Blossom's bed—the girls still shared a room, but there was a twin sized bed in each of three corners of the room now, with the door in the fourth corner. Blossom moved over, giving Bubbles room to sit down.
"Blossom, you know that you can tell me anything, right?" Bubbles started immediately. "If you had some secret that you wanted to get off your chest, you know I'd never tell."
"Yeah, I know," smiled Blossom. "Don't worry about me, Bubbles. I'm fine."
"You don't really seem fine," Bubbles insisted, almost harshly. "Something's the matter with you, Buttercup's right! Is it…" Bubbles's voice grew low. "…boy troubles?"
"You might say that," Blossom mumbled before she could stop herself.
"Ooh, now we're getting somewhere," smiled Bubbles.
"No, Bubbles, it's not that—"
"Care to tell me who? You don't have to if you don't want—"
"I don't want to tell you, and trust me Bubbles, you don't want me to tell you either."
"It's that bad?" Bubbles looked surprised. "He's that bad? He isn't…" Bubbles's eyes narrowed slightly. She probably hadn't even meant to glare at her. But it happened.
"No, Bubbles," said Blossom with a smile. "It's not any of them."
Bubbles cleared her throat and sat up straighter, a sure sign of relief. Blossom continued to smile, despite the absurdity of the thought. Yes, everyone—even Bubbles—seemed to assume that the Powerpuff Girls would, in fact, wind up falling for villains! Of course, however, these supposed villain boyfriends weren't as… well, disturbing as the thought of any of the girls harboring feelings for Mojo.
Oh no, not that villain. But the Rowdyruff Boys? That was a whole 'nother matter.
Well, calling them villains was rather generous to them at this point in time, Blossom reflected. When they were younger they had been obsessed with trying to destroy the Powerpuff Girls, but nowadays the boys would only fight the girls if they got in their way—their way of pranks and general tomfoolery. Now, they were really nothing more than the Gangreen Gang with superpowers. None of them did anything for Blossom—they were crude, idiotic, and foul. Buttercup, too, had no interest in them (other than feeding them knuckle sandwiches when the situation warranted it), but then again, she'd never had much romantic interest in boys anyway.
Bubbles did, however. Blossom and Buttercup knew the signs of an incoming crush for Bubbles—she would suddenly get very, very chatty when the name of a guy she found hot was mentioned. Normally Bubbles kept good eye contact, but when conversing with a crush, her eyes would divert to the floor. And Blossom had noticed this the last time the girls had to deal with the Rowdyruff Boys. With two of them, Bubbles had more or less the confident crime-fighting face she had when facing bad guys. But the third she was unable to even look at.
But even Bubbles played with people's expectations, although it obviously wasn't even intentional. Bubbles was supposed to wind up with Boomer, right? Well, it wasn't Boomer that Bubbles was unable to look at. It was Brick.
Not that that amounted to much in the long run, anyway. Bubbles, after all, had numerous crushes. However, her busy schedule of marching band, jazz band, cheerleading, and saving the day, added with her shyness around hot guys, meant that Bubbles, just like her sisters (albeit for different reasons), was boy-free.
"Well, that's a relief!" Bubbles was saying, getting overly chatty just thinking about him. "I mean, a Powerpuff Girl, dating a bad guy! Can you just see how Townsville would take that? And not just any Powerpuff Girl, but the leader! I mean, you're always so strict about what's right and what's wrong, if you were to actually fall in love with a villain, then—"
"Alright, Bubbles, that's enough!" cried Blossom, finding that Bubbles's words were hitting too close to home. Compared to who she actually did secretly long for (and despise, of course—damn conflicting emotions), her having a crush on Brick seemed tame.
"Sorry," said Bubbles, giggling. "I guess I sounded a little like Mojo Jojo there. Do you remember how he'd go on and on—well, I guess you would remember, huh?"
Blossom winced. Bubbles meant well, of course, but right now she was only making things worse. "Bubbles, please, when I said I wanted to be alone, I meant it. I appreciate you trying to help, but believe me when I say that the best thing you cando to help is to not ask me why I'm feeling so bad, alright? I'd like to at least try to forget."
"But you can't," said Bubbles, sadly.
"That's right. I can't."
"Blossom, I'm sorry for getting mad at you in the lab just now," Bubbles blurted out. "I shouldn't be jealous. Professor's right—you can understand all those languages because you're a hard worker. I could never do that."
"That's alright," said Blossom comfortingly. "Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I'll never be able to speak any animal languages until someone writes a book about those. You've still got me beat there."
"True," giggled Bubbles.
Blossom opened her mouth to speak, but the sudden ringing of the hotline cut her off.
"Ooh, looks like we have evil to fight!" said Bubbles.
She scooted over, giving Blossom a clear path to the phone. That was one of their unspoken rules—Blossom had sole hotline-answering abilities, unless something prevented her from reaching it. Blossom never said anything, but Bubbles knew that Blossom would be terribly offended if this aspect of her authority—or any other aspects of her authority, for that matter—was intruded upon.
"Yes, Mayor?" asked Blossom after picking up the receiver.
Bubbles waited as the Mayor explained today's threat to Blossom. It was amazing, Bubbles thought to herself. For their entire lives, they had had the same Mayor… despite his age. Bubbles knew it was wrong to think this, but the Mayor seemed to be almost immortal.
"Alright, Mayor, we'll be right on it," Blossom was saying. She set the phone down and turned to Bubbles, smiling.
"What is it?" asked Bubbles.
"Better go get Buttercup. There's a monster destroying Townsville."
Bubbles dashed out of their room and down to the lab to find Buttercup, smiling the whole time. There was, of course, nothing smile-worthy of a monster destroying the city, but still, Blossom always seemed to be more confident and more like her old self when fighting crime and monsters.
And given how rarely Blossom was happy nowadays, if a disaster actually brightened her spirit, then perhaps it was almost a good thing.