AN: Hey, Lovelies. I originally wrote this story on AO3 in a mass collab of fandoms but looking back at it now, I revised my plot to keep the story centered on the main six. The Justice League still play a good role to stay a bit centered in the dark and broodiness of the DC universe. Hope you enjoyed, leave a review if you'd like. Update in the works, xoxo.
Chapter 1: Origin Story Re-Told.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Inspired By My Hero Academia manga & Unordinary webcomic.
People are not all born equally.
November 18th, 2000
Three dark haired male scientists, The Utonium Brothers, sectioned themselves face forward at the water incubated stillborns, bloodshot eyes persistently scanning the scribbling of their pens, nerve induced hands trembling from tirelessly running mathematical theories, evaluating the current synthesis of their children. Do you know what it's like to have the ones you love the most, disappear right before your eyes?
The eldest, Professor Jonathan Utonium, pale skinned, tall, rigid and vastly intelligent. He was, what modern day society refers to as the star boy of the Utonium brothers, well known for not only a scientific genius but a prominent player in the field of business, continuously expanding his intel on economics and strategies for consulting wealthy market chains.
His wife Sophia, a peach tanned, medium framed woman with long luscious auburn hair, worked as a counselor, a human rights activist and a voice of reason for many unhinged children in Townsville, seeking peace within themselves. Her eyes...they were a soft pink...as if describing spun cotton candy, her smile...as captivating as her charismatic personality, exerting confidence in a beautifully wrapped package of a woman. His everything nice.
They met at a press conference on the state of the economy, each a platform speaker in their own right. Jonathan was a man that always went after his interests, making the first move to learn more about Sophia, rejected at first….and five other times. Their line of work provisioned their crossing of paths, once Sophia realized he was a man of genuine interest, attending her speeches and participated in her charitable drives, she disintegrated her wall of uncertainty, falling deeply in love with her consistent suitor as time passed, accepting his proposal after a two-year relationship.
In the eyes of many, Sophia was a real hero, a friend, a lover…. And her death….. left an impacted scar on Jonathan's mental state, often finding himself disgusted with the world and its insufferable crime rate. A pregnant woman …..a pregnant woman, brutally stabbed by a gang of no good delinquents for protecting a teenage boy she barely even knew. Why Sophia? Why his wife? Why couldn't she just leave it to the police? Then maybe she wouldn't have-
Snap!
Silently heaving, a masked expression engulfed his face. To not worry the prying eyes of his brothers, Jonathan discarded the broken pen in the waste bin, immediately reaching for another latched onto his coat pocket. He was better than this, such behavior was behind him now, the focus was his daughter, the Blossom he made his life long goal to resurrect, despite all logic.
Next, the middle child, Professor Johan Utonium. Tall, fairly more tan than his elder brother, the muscle head of the three. His expertise combined the art of physical education and science, generating pharmaceuticals of all kinds for athletes and members of the armed forces, energy, and sports drinks as well as protein-based bars and shakes. By far, the least nerdy of his siblings especially with his track record in martial arts.
His wife Amber, to the family's surprise, was a gentle and kind woman, loving and attending to those in need but also possessed a certain spice to her personality, captivating his being. After Johan was rushed into the Townsville General Hospital by his worrisome mother for a simple flesh wound, the muscle-bound scientist met the nurse of his dreams. The fit, brunette woman with vibrant lime green eyes, tending to his care with the gentlest of touches rendering Johan to a tongue tied fool, purposely exploring ways to injure himself just to see Amber on the regular, until he summoned the courage to finally ask her out.
They quickly became an item, Amber longingly intrigued by his tsundere behavioral patterns, timely discovering the plush filled teddy bear beneath the muscle. As Johan's wife, Amber did her best to always be his peace, the calm to his storm, his temporary escape from science while juggling the duties of marriage and her demanding job. Understanding the circumstances, Johan pulled his weight more around the house, cleaning and cooking dinner after discovering his wife passed out a few times on the sofa in her scrub attire, too tired to make it to the bedroom. But on the gloomy night of Sophie's funeral, Johan suggested a street dinner by the docks in an attempt to lighten up his pregnant wife's saddened state. Loving street food and charmed by her husband's way of saying cheer up, she accepted the offer and they headed for the docks….On their way to an intersection, Johan made a left turn when a speeding car slammed into him, sending the vehicle in and out of control spin, crashing into the base of a flyover.
The muscled scientist, rose his gaze from the pad to their daughter, longingly staring at his most prized possession.
Amber didn't survive the crash, but Johan did...and sometimes, he wished to have died right along with her but his strong will kept him pushing against the odds, every single day.
Last, but certainly not the least, Professor John Utonium, the youngest of the three. Peach skinned, fairly tall and mostly known for his charismatic approach to science, making it a fun adventurous topic to invest those around the world, specializing in robotic and functional inventions, unlike his older brothers.
His wife Kelsey was the light of his life, her bubbly and sugary personality boosting his spirits despite his mood. She was a beautiful golden blonde woman with the most innocent baby blue eyes, curvy frame and vastly creative. Kelsey was both an artist and children's novelist, drafting the skeptics of vogue while awakening the inner child of innocent minds everywhere, providing educational stories with a fun, parent-approved twist. A friendly conversation after purchasing one of her pieces at an art show, lead to a blossoming friendship to dating and after a year, betrothed.
His mother claimed that was too soon, but John knew deep down Kelsey was the one. After their marriage, the two wasted no time getting started on raising a family, despite the crime rate situation in Townsville. After the baby, they had plans on moving to a safer city, perhaps Megaville, but unfortunately, Kelsey experienced a number of miscarriages over the time frame. The loss of one baby after another sent the bubbly blonde into a state of depression, falling behind on her career from heartache. John encouraged her to keep trying, promising that they will receive their miracle baby, even suggesting other methods.
Eventually, Kelsey gave it another shot, sustaining her first four-month pregnancy, a high-risk one at that. Kelsey was a fairly healthy woman to begin with she was a vegetarian, so there was no problems following the diet plan and taking all the required pills for their baby's development...only to go into premature labor during her sixth month. The doctors had to perform an emergency c- section, Kelsey needing a blood transfusion for a safe delivery. Of course, John donated as much blood without falling faint, anxiously sitting in the waiting room for the results of the procedure.
To be a surgeon, one needed complete control of their emotions. John would have more admiration for the life skill if the man had not born news of his dead newborn and vital failing wife. To think light of your world could flicker away just like that.
John didn't eat or sleep for days, rounding up in the hospital himself from an overdose.
Eeek! Eeek!
"Not now Mojo," Jonathan dismissed the family's chimpanzee tugging on the leg of his pants.
Hoo hoo hoo hoo!
"Tone it down, squirt. We're trying to focus here!"
"Mojo! Get down from there!"
"Goddamn, chimp!"
Eeek Eeek Eeek!
Mojo jumped onto the operating machine, accidentally infusing an unknown substance into their daughters' incubators, chemical x.
Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice, were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girls.
"Oh fuck!"
"No!"
They yelled in protest, as the water filled pitch black boiling and bubbling up right before their eyes.
"Its gonna blow!"
"Take cover!" Jonathan screamed, each scientist diving in a different direction, leaving Mojo all by himself.
Boooooooooooooom!
Eeeeeeek!
*Cough!* * Cough!*
A thick black smoke encompassed the room, a brilliant shining light in the center of it all.
Adrenaline pumping, Johan and Jonathan picked themselves up, retrieving their younger brother John before approaching the light source, clipboards in hand as an extra mean of protection if required, feet squishing on sploshy black stained liquid. Helpless chimp moans could be heard in the nearby distance but the brothers paid that no mind, inching closer and closer together, where there were outlines of three human bodies, specifically three naked female humans innocently staring up at them.
Splish-splat!
The clipboards hit the sploshy wet floor.
Baby blue eyes…blonde hair.
Cotton Candy Pink eyes…auburn hair.
Lime Green eyes….jet black hair.
The pink one merely shifted her head in curiosity, lips parting themselves while her cousins smiled.
"Hello."
And the less virtuous of the world are often turned a blind eye, recruited by those with crude ambitions as means of survival.
January 5th, 2001
Mrs. Sarah Bellum Carter exited her black Hyundai vehicle, chirping her keys upon entering the Townsville Medical Complex, an ominous shadow clothed by trench coat observing the right hand the previous mayor and politician's wife.
"Good Morning, Martha. How have you been?" Sarah greeted the blue-haired receptionist.
"Not as good as you, congratulations on the wedding!" exclaimed Martha, eagerly reaching for the woman's hand, staring longingly at the beautiful diamond ring around her finger.
"Thank you, I would've honestly preferred a more private setting but there are expectations being betrothed to a media loving politician."
"I can imagine," she said retreating her gaze to the computer screen. "Please enter the office and change into the gown, Doctor Ibrahim will be with you shortly."
"Great, see you," said Sarah with a nod, stepping down the hall.
Entering the gynecologist's room, Sarah barely missed a quick shadow, furrowing a brow in curiosity.
"Hello?"
There was no answer.
Naturally, Sarah took a look for herself, only to brush the event off as a figment of her imagination.
She changed her clothing and laid back on the examination table.
"Ah, Miss Carter! Early as always," spoke the doctor, upon entering the room, slipping on his gloves.
Snips, n' Snails, and a Puppy-Dog Tail were the perfect ingredients for rotten, artificially inseminated little boys….or so they thought.
….
Sarah strolled out of the medical complex, chirping her car keys and opened the door to hop inside.
"Well if it isn't Mrs. Sarah Bellum Carter," spoke a familiar voice, whipping her head around to see the trench coat shadow with a baseball bat in hand, eyes widening in sudden fear.
"Mojo Jo-!"
THWACK!
In one swift strike, the politician's wife was knocked unconscious in the parking lot, head bleeding from the impact.
Six Months Later…..
Mmmm.
Mmm-nnh!
"Hibernation Process: Complete."
A robotic voice announced in the darkroom, dimly lit by the light of the playing television.
"Labor Process Initiated."
*Gasp!*
"Ahhhhh!" Sarah cried out, yanking her head away from some sort of device in the process of jolting awake on a soft bed for one, heavily breathing, clutching her large round stomach at the sharp pain. What was this outfit? It was just a largely oversized dingy jersey. How did she get into this?
Her eyes frightfully widened at the bigger problem, her hands, one containing an iv and the other bare, rubbing around on her belly as if trying to reveal some nasty trick of deception.
"Aahhhh!" she shrieked, both out of pain and fear. She was experiencing contractions...but how, when...why? Her husband was not a fertile man.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
MMMMMM! MMMNNNN!
Sarah harshly grits her teeth, body trembling at the pain she felt. She didn't understand, not one bit of it.
"What is-"
"Where-"
As if on cue, the television's volume audified the room.
"Addressing the public today with a special announcement for the beginning of breast cancer awareness month is none other than Mrs. Sarah Bellum Carter, the mayor's right hand."
"What…" Sarah squeaked, wide eyes staring at the television screen, seeing herself standing at the podium alongside her husband and the mayor to all of the city.
"C-Carl…"
"M-Mayor…"
Ever so slightly, Sarah began shaking her head, eyes pooling with water, she was sweating, mouth muttering to herself in disbelief.
"T-That's n-not me…"
"T-That's not me!"
"That's not me!"
"THAT'S NOT ME!
"THAT'S NOT ME!
"AAAHHHH!"
She doubled over in pain.
"AAHHH!"
Fists clenching at the pain of yet another contraction, Sarah continued to scream at the top of her lungs, wildly trashing on the bed.
"THAT'S NOT ME!
"THAT'S NOT ME!
"THAT'S NOT-!"
December 15th 2004
"Really? You want to adopt all three of them, mister...Harold Igor Malachai?" the payment clerk questioned the motives of an Italian looking, pinkish tinge skinned man.
"Why yes. I meet all the requirements and it's not the first time I have given children homes. I simply wish to bless as many children as my pockets allow me."
"Well, alright. You've heard this before to remind you, we had their last name "Carter" revoked and changed to Jojo for identity theft, but these three had no choice but to be fostered children with a loon for a mom, she's ward at the mental institution for thinking she's some politician's wife, the bitch had actually married a monkey. Just an extra heads up for any inheritance of insanity, that's common in these cases," he said, not caring that the three little boys could probably hear him just fine in the hallway.
"How gracious of you."
*Grunt.*
"Sign in these two spaces and they're all yours," the clerk announced.
"Splendid."
Accepting his copy of the paperwork, the pink-tinged skin male with glossy jet-black hair approached his new, eight years old, triplet sons, each bearing an expression of their own.
The fairly longed haired redhead with a red, backward baseball cap, Brick. His eyes shone a brilliant red, staring directly at him, not a smile, not a frown, completely emotionless, solely observing their new "father". He was the first born of the three, academically strong and a quick thinker, known for keeping his brothers in order. Interesting.
The spiky black haired one, however, did express emotion in the form of a scowl, forest green eyes glaring at his presence. The non-trusting one, Butch. The middle child and handful, prone to aggression, mischievous pranks and fights, strong physical prowess, posses a bit of a brother complex. Again interesting.
And finally, the curious looking golden blonde, navy blue eyes just gazing at him, blinking innocently. Boomer, the last born, curious, naive, prone to mischief, somewhat a fleshed out mix of his older brothers, according to the guidance counselors.
*Chuckle.*
Eerily smirking, the man spoke. "Hello boys, you may call me HIM. I'm here to stabilize you."
Homospaiens hold onto many perceptions of life.
For them, existence on earth falls into specific categories of religion, science, love, adventure….to name a few. They start off as innocent children, overwhelmed by curiosity and eagerness to learn the world around them but as age gratifies, parents, instill their preferred ideologies and behavioral patterns, some on questionable levels as the lenient methods of others are carried out through adolescence. High school depicts the worst of their characters, be it superiority syndrome, anti-socialness, foolery, arrogance, abrasiveness, regret, and humiliation, learning to solve problems themselves or with parental or guardian assistance. Liberated at eighteen, these individuals can freely and legally venture away from parental restraint, facing the harsh reality of the world where: social status, education, wealth and power shape the desirable standard of living.
What about superhumans, you ask?
More or less, the same principles apply, however in a world of vast superhuman broughtupsy, the government planted a seed for control: The Elite System. This is a mandatory segmentation of supers to be divisionalized based on skill set, regulating, monitoring and controlling, the use of superpowers where only the authorized supers were allowed to carry out acts of justice. Elites are those classified as superior, possessing abilities, quirks and or qualities greater than their average human counterparts. Path be of heroic or villainous intent, people ages seventeen and up across the country had equal opportunity to register for The Party of Elites, a superior college designed for the grooming of the next eligible generation of elites in society.
Performance documented over the three-year course completion determines the careers of metahumans unwilling to exist among the bias of mortals. The system today, opposed to its opening three years ago to avoid hazardous legal disputes, now isn't shy of opening its doors to mortals that prove worthy of elite status amongst the supers, being the very first supered college to do so, with many having been scrutinized for its lack of diversity in the past since humans could not help but to stick their noses into everything. Quite a simple totem pole it is.
Noblesse:
The highest form of elites administrators of honors and the finest of warriors. The protectors of society in positions of demand, the economists, politicians, the legalized leagues of justice and individual armed forces.
Knights:
The second best elites commonly referred to as the maintenance people or followers for their supporting role to the noblesse, commanded by government. Comprised of humans and supers, these are the teams of warriors or individual laborers, scientists, technicians, and engineers.
Providers:
The elites that craft and sell creative product meant for supers, farmers, artisans and other material related things.
As for becoming a hero, The Party of Elites freshman examinations had just begun, the ultimate test of capabilities.
Just in between of Gotham City and Metropolis, was Splashvale..home of The Party of Elites, the best college for supers and metahumans alike in the entire continent of America funded by The Justice League. A gigantic manor of its own societal status quickly became popular amongst the other colleges for supers, having accommodated over a thousand exceptional individuals, bringing comic book fantasy to reality, where teenagers to adults learned to harness their powers, resilience, intellectual abilities and combat with dreams of becoming the best of the best while earning their degrees….if you met their expectations that is.
"Set high goals, work hard and be patient. Failure shall never be tolerated from the likes of you."
"Yes, father."
In front of the body length mirror, french manicured fingertips secured the buttons of the cherry red blazer, complimenting the soft pink blouse underneath with comfy black athletic pants. Pink eyes, peered at her slender appearance, long auburn hair cascading down her back, settling just before hip bone length complimented by a big red bow.
Eighteen-year-old Blossom Utonium stared at her reflection, recalling all of her achievements thus far to make The Party of Elites honors admission list...no easy task. Her entire childhood revolved around three aspects: Grades, Training & minor heroism, nothing more, nothing less. Everything nice, the main ingredient in her survival.
Instinctively, a hand clutched her good luck charm, the gold heart locket around her neck, the only non-perished item once belonging to her mother.
Since resurrection, Professor Jonathan Utonium introduced himself as her paternal figure, honing her development under his wing. Professor, as she often referred to him, was a man of many faces, a perfectionist, a walking vial of neuroticism, an impassive businessman, a caring father...often lecturing as his style of expressing love. She drank ten 16oz bottles of water a day, excelled at all academics, specifically business and science-related subjects as passed down from Jonathan, participated in debate competitions, the charity club, even ran for student council president and became the first sophomore in such a position, acting as a voice of reason for fellow peers as father said her mother once was.
Her resume didn't end there, she was a gymnast, professional swimmer, piano player, a superhero. The Powerpuff Girls, a was a self-destructive trio of cousins from ages five to nine, well in her case five to eight, dedicating their lives to fighting crime and the forces of evil. Jonathan's PTSD after the murder of his wife, however, barricaded Blossom's freedom to run off fighting crime as would some hellspawn vigilante, despite her metahuman abilities.
Blossom understood his point of view, knowing that Townsville might not have been anti-superpowers like the other cities in America but she also didn't want to disappoint her cousins and uncles who were rooting for her membership. Blossom took it upon herself to have a thorough discussion with her father, establishing ground rules to grant his approval, it took a few hours but she managed to make him smile, comparing her yet again to the mother she never had the honor of meeting.
Assuming her role as a member of the team, Buttercup was the appointed leader of Puffs, which was only fair despite it being uncle John's idea, Bubbles sugary behavior showed little interest in being the leader but Buttercup was more than willing to be in charge. In battle, the girl was the epitome of awesome, the toughest of fighters, dissolving obstacles with clenched fists. Her other cousin, Bubbles, was the silly, innocent, passive one of the three, the joy and the laughter if you might say. Then there was Blossom, the brains of the bunch, analyzing her competitors for the best battle option or solving matters of minor disputes with words.
Eventually, these traits would clash, Blossom and Buttercup, two different personalities bumping heads with one another, resulting in verbal disputes, physical lashing outs, prolonged missions. Regularly, Bubbles played peacemaker, attempting to defuse the ticking time bomb cousins that couldn't see from each others point of view, ego and arrogance on both their ends but still, she understood them, some of Buttercup's methods relied on too much destructive aftermath then some of Blossom's plans required a lot of patience and timely strategy.
Once Jonathan received news of these fights and the lawless disposition that Blossom tried to her best to cover it up….though hiding the remote controls, misplacing the radio, mysterious newspaper disappearances and disconnecting the cable could only do so much against a scientist, especially after the police showed up at the doorstep because the team accidentally damaged an apartment complex filled with families, inconveniently forcing them into relocation while the damaged were being repaired.
She finally got caught, having no legitimate contingency plan in place for secret flout of said rule:
"For any instance, must you be forced to go against your own principles in favor of another individual's and or criminal and such act lands you in mass danger or in predicament with the justice system, you are to resign from Powerpuff duties immediately, no questions asked."
Blossom remembered being upset about it, but the team of Bubbles and Buttercup was disbanded a year after that incident by the introduction of super-powered statutes in Townsville. At least Jonathan made it up to her with training formulated into a precise procedure for the enhancement of her powers and their limits. He knew that despite his opposed feelings and the law, that his daughter held heroism close to her heart and for that, Blossom was eternally grateful, finding other means of saving the day, if it meant cheering someone up or simply lending a listening ear. To her, a hero was someone, when in the face of danger or injustice, combats adversity through feats of ingenuity, regardless of physical prowess.
Just like mom…..
"Blossom?" the deep, masculine voice of her father shut off the words of her subconscious.
"Yes, father? Good Morning," she greeted the middle-aged man, politely facing his bodily presence.
"Good Morning, I trust you are all set for your big debut," he humored, eyeing the three large pink polka-dot suitcases at her bedside.
"Yes, I am," the confidence rolled off her tongue, taking one final look at herself in the mirror. She would become a psychology major, just like her mother was.
Jonathan cracked a smile. "As expected. Come have a bite to eat before departure, lackluster minds project nonsense in matters of urgency. I added broccoli on the side, just as you love it."
"Thank you, father," she said, lips curling into a smile of her own.
"And remember how hard you strived to place into that college. Don't let the actions of your cousins disrupt your dreams, turn a blind eye if it means self-victory," he spoke again, disappearing through the door in time to miss her descending lips, sunken gaze at the pink tiles of her bedroom floor.
"Yes, father..," Blossom muttered to herself.
"The sky's the limit, sweetpea."
"Yup! I've always loved the clouds."
"Bubbles, breakfast is ready!" Professor John Utonium called his daughter from downstairs.
"Coming dad!" replied the cute bubbly blonde, bra strap pigtails swishing to and fro as she descended down the stairs with her luggage.
Dressed in a baby blue tank top and denim jeans, her modelesque figure pulled a chair, seating herself down in front of a nutritious vegetarian breakfast of scrambled chickpeas and stiff fry kale.
She is the joy and the laughter of the three cousins, sugar being her main ingredient for survival. Naturally empathetic, fun lover, always bursting with energy. Her approach to life was to follow her heart, accepting the situations life placed her in, although she would rather have control over the stakes.
Acceptance into the Party of Elites exhausted her in the senior year. Now she wasn't the best in academics, she worked hard enough to pass over the average to maintain her role as the captain of the cheerleaders but other than the short-lived crime fighting with cousin Buttercup and Blossom in childhood years, her resume needed some last-minute efforts to even be considered. To think that a supposed college for supers had such high requirements, landing her acceptance in the lower ranks, but whatever she'd make the best of the experience. Her long term goal is to be a hero again, simultaneously becoming a fashion designer, loving the arts just as her mother did.
The professor couldn't rank as an elite back in his days due to non-metahuman acceptances, but he was a kind and innovative man, she would achieve their goals for both of them. Thank God for that opportunity.
"Are you excited for your first entrance exam? I heard they can be quite difficult and the variables change every year," her dad said.
"I am! I wished they gave us more information but I promise to try my best."
Smiling at her enthusiasm, John spoke again. "That's a great sweetie! And remember always be yourself, I know you'll make it and even if you don't I'll always be proud of you!"
"Thanks, dad! I won't let you down!"
"Always do your best, nothing short of it!"
"Right!"
Already on campus…...
"You're all set Cups," her dad said, setting down her last suitcase from the car.
Buttercup grinned. "Thanks, Pops. I'll give a call as soon as I ace that exam!"
"That's what I'm talking about!" he exclaimed, high fiving his daughter followed by a goodbye hug. Johan absolutely refused to tear up in front of such a prestigious school, he knew that his daughter would call and visit him regularly, their relationship was on the friendly side but effective nonetheless. At least he never had to worry about Buttercup hiding her feelings like her cousin does with Jonathan.
Waving his final goodbye, Johan drove off in his vehicle.
"Alright!" Buttercup blurted, grabbing her luggage. She was ready to smash her way to the top of the totem at this college. Her athletic body frame sported a simple fitted jersey and track pants, the green puff strolled into campus, following the signs directed for freshmen.
Of the three cousins, she was the toughest fighter, spice being her main ingredient for survival. She could be loud or quiet if she felt like, laidback and aggressive, sarcastic or potty mouth depending on the mood and how much you get on her nerves. To summarize, if you're easily offended, stay away.
Back in high school, she was a beast at sports, powers or not. She did track, soccer, football with the boys, lacrosse….a true tomboy at both heart and body. Academically she was an average student, she did, however, excel at anatomy related subjects from her late mother's stockpile of nurse related notebooks, nonetheless not particularly caring to be at the top from that perspective.
To get into the Party of Elites, there were several sleepless nights of preparations just to secure her application in the upper second class, being the leader of the former squad definitely served a boost in status quo. After Blossom's disinvolvement, Buttercup ironically became more visually aware of the damage she caused to the city. That didn't always stop the occurrences but at least she tried before the government shut the team of her and Bubbles down.
In a conflicting figment of her own insecurities, to Buttercup it was like the world was telling her she wasn't fit for the noble role of the leader, when her cousin Blossom already thought she could do a better job than her even though those words never actually slipped out of her mouth: "If you had only listened to me then-" or "Had I been in charge this wouldn't have happened!" was close enough and served as strain on their cousinly bond with her perfectionism.
Strong personalities were bound to bump heads, Buttercup understood that for what was but maybe things happen for a reason even if she felt guilty about it. Being the leader back then gave her time to shine and face some insecurities head on, even if she still fumbled along the way. They were all cousins, yet still, Buttercup faced the middle child syndrome, Blossom shined as the noble, mature and smart one and Bubbles shined as the cute and bubbly one that can still kickass, provoked or not. Sure Buttercup could be abrasive and a jerk but those traits made her unique to stand out from her cousins' personality-wise, she was more than just the toughest fighter and a tomboy. Buttercup wasn't perfect by any means, but at least she grew to accept the person she was and now had some control over how much those insecurities got to her.
With this opportunity, she'd become a legalized hero again and make a name for herself as a physical therapist one day, ready to show the entire world who Buttercup Utonium is.
"Never rest until your good is better than your best."
"Understood."
At the top of the college's administration building, sat a casually dressed Brick in a simple red shirt and jeans, scoping out the new intake of students for freshman year….his rivals to be, in other words. The green puff had arrived, HIM said they'd be here but gave no instruction for an attack, just like in his younger years. Tch.
Running a hand through his bangs, the soothing wind levitated his neck length, auburn hair ever so often, the seventeen-year old's face held no emotion, stoicism in full blare.
This wasn't uncommon of Brick, prone to inward brooding tendencies when faced with mental conflict. A wise choice considering the very state of this universe that heroes would give their lives to protect, where freedom of expression was only a good thing if the majority of the general population loved the words spilling out of your mouth, otherwise, they'll shut you up, one way or another. That's the justice system for you, some heroes they were.
Mostly isolated from his brothers, mother thrown in the looney house.
The rowdyruff boys, a fun club formed with his triplet brothers were a thing of the past, though would forever hold a special place in the heart...being the better quarter of his childhood. If Brick were to tell the tale of himself and his brothers artificially generated, born by a human, raised by a bedlamite mother and a talking chimpanzee until the age of eight, would you believe him?
Too bad he didn't care what outsiders thought.
HIM was red, Brick wore red. Maybe that's why...part of it anyway.
Out of the three, she despised Brick the most, screwing with his ability to display emotions, finding it rather difficult to rehabilitate his face muscles for such expressions. Haunting memories of his mother's fright, resentment, vulnerability….her enslavement to look after her initially unwanted children in a twisted projectile of love, life taking her only given chance of freedom for granted, tossing her straight into a mental facility.
Tch.
Still….what five-year-old did not love their mother?
"Mojo?" the innocent, yet the cool voice of five-year-old Brick called for their primate guardian.
"Yes, Brick?" the overly large, brained chimpanzee answered his son, raising a brow at his unconfident body language.
"Does mom hate me?" Brick asked with concern, those crimson eyes of his quivering as if wanting to cry.
Mojo stooped down to his level, hands on his knees. "Brick, why would you ask such a thing?"
"Well…," he started saying, breaking eye contact. "It doesn't hurt that much but…"
Mojo's brows furrowed. "But what?"
"...Her eyes, the way she looks at me. It's like she's afraid. Why is that?" he told half his truth, not wanting to get his mom in trouble.
"How does she look at you?" Mojo questioned him.
"Like...she doesn't love me," he dejectedly answered.
Mojo pats him gently on the head, offering a gentle smile. "Now now Brick, you need not to worry. Your mother is just going through a rough phase in her life. Things will get better. I promise."
Meeting his gaze again, staring into his reassuring primate eyes, Brick nodded. "Ok."
Mojo lied. Things had only gotten worse.
He was both the victim and the guilt trap, simultaneously understanding both opposing sides of the spectrum with no reassuring way to let it all out, near drove Brick down to the path of bonkers until his middle school interest in psychology nullified himself enough to press onward, confident and secured in his ability to defy all odds, so of course this was his chosen degree pathway.
Sarah Bellum Carter didn't deserve her fate, Mojo was a pawn, HIM ruined her life, Brick was sure of it but alas, had no such proof to support his theory for outspoken accusations against his crooked…. "father."
"What the heck is this place?" Butch complained, walking down the long hallway with brothers at his side, following the freakish looking man leading the way. There were muffled sounds coming from some of the rooms, x-ray vision showing them varieties of people behind each door.
"Your new home, son."
"Just cuz you signed some papers don't mean you get to tell us what to do," Brick spoke up, face stoic.
"I don't? We'll see about that," HIM humored himself, sending a spooky chill down a quiet Boomer's spine.
"Pst. This guy gives me the creeps," Butch whispered to Brick.
"I agree," he responded, halting in place.
"What do we do, Brick?" Boomer finally spoke up.
"Get out of here, of course."
"Uh uh uh," the eeriness of HIM's masculine yet feminine voice filled the entire hallway in the most gentle of sound, the hairs on the back of their neck immediately standing up.
"Now boys, you aren't thinking of abandoning your new papa now, are you? We've yet to all become acquainted."
"We?" the three brothers said in confusion.
"Yes, we," he sinisterly spoke, three look-a-like shadows of the boys emerging from behind HIM.
"GET THEM!"
"Ahhhh!"
The dark shadows rushed at them, forcing each boy to separate from one another in the exchange of punches and kicks.
"WHAT THE HECK?!" Butch screeched fists aggressively swiping through the shadow's body without any physical contact.
"Our attacks aren't working!" Boomer cried out, shooting a laser vision through his evil shadow clone, achieving nothing.
"Oh they aren't? How sad," Him humored, darkly chuckling at the narrowing eyes of the red one.
"If you would just come quietly-"
"HUMAN TORNADO!" Brick blurted, spinning into a blur of swirling red, brothers following in his command with dark green and navy blue blurs of their own, blowing the air based shadows into thin air.
HIM's eyes widened in excitement, hair wilding about, a wide Cheshire cat grin on his red one….
"Ha! In your face!" Butch cockily spat, brothers at his side, each smirking at their accomplishment.
"Actually, it's in yours," HIM humored, tube holes from below sucking them face forward into the ground, disappearing from the hallway.
"Ahhhhhh!"
Oof!
They each landed in an individual tube of their signature colors, red, blue and green, compressing them into a constricted space.
"Ahhhh!"
"I….can't…..move!" Brick strained, trying to push against the solid material.
"Grrrr! Ahhh!" Butch and Boomer fought against their compressors no to avail.
"Hello again!" HIM chirped, teleporting into the room in a swirl of red smoke.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!"
"AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"
"PLEASE DON'T HURT US!"
"Now now my sons, relax," the sinister voice returned, a purple gas spraying into their compressors, knocking the boys out cold.
Brick Jojo, the number one applicant by recommendation alone, "HIM's prodigy" academically favored, intelligent, quick adapter, supernaturally gifted, a fine warrior...words he was all too used to hearing from the master of deception in his true lobster form. Sometimes, he fed into the praise, ego loving the attention and special treatment but not once had Brick ever lost sight of his goal. HIM, the epitome of evil itself, powerful, abductor of children for twisted experiments, was capable of love, treating Brick like his own son, encouraging him to become the best of elites.
What HIM was planning, Brick knew not...until then, the game of father and son proved most rewarding.
Afterall...
Brick flexed his palm, growing a few small tree roots out of its surface.
The term Mediocre ranked in no inherent value to his resume.
"Slow movement matters not as long as you do not stop."
"Thanks. I'll give it another shot."
"Now Boomer, as you embark on your first college educational journey, I wish you the best. If in any need of assistance do not hesitate to call me," Mojo Jojo informed his "son." Their relationship had improved for the better over his pre-teen to adolescent years, notwithstanding the inexcusable fact for the boys' very existence.
"Ok, Mojo. Thanks," casually replied Boomer, taking his luggage.
"Good luck," Mojo bid his farewell, flying off in his jet.
Retaliating with just the bare minimum to be considered a hand wave, Boomer turned around, entering the campus with his luggage. Somewhat like his eldest brother, Boomer partially understood the truth behind his birth, to destroy the Powerpuff girls, plain and simple, he could have lived with that ideology. It didn't make any rational sense coming from a supposedly vast intellectual beings perspective other than a personal grudge. However, that godforsaken grudge was still better than using their own mother's mental instability to scar him and his brothers, then toss them into foster care for years, just so they'd resort to an evil mindset afterward for some super demon douche to later adopt and experiment on?
That was harsh.
But, Mojo had actually apologized to him, offering to not to make up for the past circumstances, but to start a fresh relationship as biological father and son.
And despite the outburst from an overprotective Butch, Boomer accepted his apology.
Loud sounds of wailing filled the dark, dimly lit laboratory, a quivering Brick held onto his brother, rubbing a soothing hand along the lengths of his back. The blue rowdyruff couldn't shut the engine to the salty tears off, profusely crying like an upset baby. Having cornered Mojo upon notice that their once guardian primate came to HIM's headquarters, the three brothers demanded answers for their fate. Demanding why he abandoned them, why he did nothing about their mother's abusive ways, why they got adopted by a twisted child trafficker to experiment on.
So Mojo told them the truth….
His plan to get revenge on the Utonium brother scientists, to destroy their young daughters, the Powerpuff girls because they abandoned him as a young, injured chimp, age and growth accelerated from contact with chemical x. The strong component that gave that played a role in their artificial creation and afterbirth transformation, using their mother as a disposable vessel meant for the phase one of his plan: to wreck their innocent mindsets after recognizing that the rotten little boys he was expecting, genes were overpowered by the ones of their mother, meaning their physical bodies weren't stable enough to face the Powerpuff girls head-on in battle without fatally losing.
Mentally disturbed, he sent over a social worker, pretending to a concerned citizen and they were taken into the foster system, their mother went running for the hills, not once looking back at her children, soon detained by the police.
He let them spend two years at an orphanage, with hopes of becoming frustrated with the world around them, relying only on each other to get by and their powers to defend themselves if necessary.
Then the final phase, stabilization by HIM, the enhancement of their various powers, agility, strength, and invulnerability as the ultimate weapons of destruction.
Did he ever love them at all?!
"C-C'mon B-Boom…..it's….It's ok," Brick attempted to offer Boomer some words of encouragement, immediately being apprehended by Butch.
"It's ok?" he started, standing up from his seat, voice raising."This is ok? What they did to us, is OK?!"
"Butch."
"DON'T YOU FUCKING "BUTCH" ME, BRICK! DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT!"
"Butch, please. This is not your brother's fault-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!" he snapped at Mojo, whipping his head over to Brick again.
"ANSWER ME, BRO! YOU THINK THIS JUST OK. THAT'S EVERYTHING'S JUST PEACHY NOW BECAUSE WE KNOW TRUTH?!"
"Butch."
"LOOK AT BOOMER!"
Their blonde brother was still bawling his heart out.
Brick bit down on his trembling lip, drawing blood from the soft vulnerable flesh.
"DOES HE LOOK OK TO YOU?!"
"WHAT ABOUT ME? DO I LOOK OK TO YOU?!"
"YOU CAN'T EVEN SMILE FOR CHRIST SAKES, AND. THIS. IS. OK. TO. YOU?!" Butch berated his elder brother, watching the tears stream down his face, still fighting to keep it together out the outside. Oh, Brick had some balls of steel, but Butch had enough of this tomfoolery.
"YOU!" Butch roared, head fiercely snapping to Mojo. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
He dashed to punch him in the face, barricaded by a thick cloud of red smoke acting as a force field for the primate.
"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU DAMNED CORRUPT MONKEY. I SHOULD KILL YOU!" Butch venomously spat, ferociously beating on that force field to the point of cracks.
"Butch, please! I cannot take back what I have done in the past but I can atone for my sins in the provision of a brighter future!" Mojo pleaded with the raging rowdyruff but Butch wasn't having it.
Cracks upon cracks, once impenetrable force field for him, now becoming as fragile as glass.
"Butch please! Give me another chance, I'm sorry!" the fear-filled Mojo Jojo begged for his life, possibly one punch more to certain demise.
"B-Butch," the raspy voice of Boomer said his name, slightly getting his attention.
"B-BUTCH!" he boomed, falling into a fit of dry coughs, worrying Brick who temporarily left him to get a bottle of water.
Fist held midair, Butch turned around ferocious face falling at his wheezing brother, dashing over to his side. Brick shortly returned with a bottle of water, tipping it just enough for Boomer to decently drink without choking while Butch supported his back.
Three minutes went by before the blonde spoke again, throat still sore but much better than earlier thanks to their healing abilities.
"I forgive him," Boomer said out of the blue. "P-People," he inhaled a deep breath, filling his lungs. "D-Deserve a second chance. M-Miss Meryl taught me that at t-the orphanage."
Tsk.
On some days, especially mother's day, those type of feelings got to him. Hate, disgust, fury. Sometimes, he wished to have a time machine to rid his memory of such disdain, heart heavy, fear in his veins. He desperately tried to keep it within like Brick but he didn't possess that type of strength resorting to angry tears and sometimes a handful of irrational outbursts. Do not underestimate the effects of an abusive child hood's ability to wreak havoc on the mind.
A child should never be declined of a mother's love. It affected their upbringing whether that person admitted to it or not but luckily Boomer found refuge in his art, creating countless pieces from vogue to landscape, some expressing his emotions..others just to appreciate the beauty of the world around him.
Miss Meryl taught him that in life sometimes make dumb, hard to resolve decisions from a spur of emotion or bad experience but the most important thing was choosing not to let that hindrance cloud your outlook on life. You only had one shot at life, forgive and move on for your own good. Mojo was wrong for what he did nevertheless, but the chimpanzee pulled his weight as a proper parent, raising Boomer to be a decent human being with care and companionship, keeping his word.
"Boomer," a voice said his name from above, lifting his enough to immediately spot his eldest brother, vacuously staring down at him.
"Oh, hey Brick."
"Do your best today. I'll be watching."
"Thanks, bro. You too," was Boomer's friendly reply, knowing that was Brick's way of saying "I'm rooting for you." Poor thing, emotionally constipated.
Butch should get here soon enough if he woke up in time. All three brothers living under a somewhat unified roof again was a refreshing idea, hopefully, they'd all make it into the same training class. With study sessions from Mojo, Boomer did pretty swell in academics, though the chimp could be way too harsh sometimes, his learning methods were exceptional.
Wanting to stamp his imprint and give back to the world in some way, Boomer was very much interested in the arts and to gain the proper knowledge to be an entrepreneur in the Elite system and the Party of Elites had the best track record of successful supers and well the idea of being his own hero was nice too. Their dual business administration and visual arts bachelor's program was the best fit for him academically. In high school, he actually touched base on business administration, amongst his modern studies, art, music, and for sports, he did track and the guys swim team.
If Boomer failed or lost interest in just visual art along the way, Technical Drawing was his backup plan. His approach to life might have been lackluster for now, but he was only seventeen years old. Plenty of time to discover the right path.
"Predators stay huntin. Don't yer stop, kill em dead!"
"YEAH!"
An hour later…
A meteor of dark green skyrocketed through the air, landing ever so gently on the field beneath the soles of his shoes inside of a mini crater. A janitor or someone would patch it up later, no big deal. That stupid pink ball of fur borrowed the batteries from the alarm clock Butch that actually went out of his way to purchase and set for just today and forgot to put them back in. The lousy scoundrel.
Marching his way down the entrance with his black suitcases, Butch sported a black tracksuit with vertical running forest green stripes on either side of his body, black spiky hair freshly loaded with tons of gel to support his established badassery.
Yes, he lived with Fuzzy Lumpkins, his appointed legal guardian after wanting absolutely nothing to do with the likes of HIM or Mojo Jojo after their little scheme was revealed to make them stronger. Stronger his ass. They ruined his childhood. They ruined the bond of his brothers and his mother? FUCK THAT BITCH.
Five-year-old Butch woke up early one morning, sleepily floating off to the bathroom in his dark green pj's. There was a beautiful scent of muffins in the air.
*Sniff.* *Sniff.*
The chocolate chip kind too. Getting excited about the yummy breakfast, Butch quickly brushed his teeth, dashing off to the kitchen in a blast of dark green, spotting his mother setting down a freshly hot tray of deliciousness. Mother looked different that morning, her voluminous red hair was neatly brushed back into a low ponytail, her clothing was decent, face fresh, maybe even a little makeup on, judging by the way her long eyelashes flared, decorated in a black coating.
Hiding behind the corner of the cabinet, Butch continued observing the woman up close. Brick had warned him to be careful around her, but he didn't understand why and Brick wouldn't tell him, so naturally, Butch became curious. Sure for a mom she was kinda quiet and weird, often made them food and washed their clothes but otherwise shut herself in her room most of the time, but she didn't look dangerous at all, at least not to him. Mojo the monkey said this behavior was normal for some mothers, finding it hard to get back to their old selves and that she just needed some time to adjust.
"She looks so pretty..," he muttered to himself, cheeks flustering a tone of light pink.
*Clang!*
She dropped a pan of muffins on the floor.
"Who's there?!" was her sudden outburst, startling Butch.
Swallowing his nervousness, he slowly floated out into the open, giving away his hiding position to those frightened, brown eyes of hers.
…...
"Oh...it's you," she stated, immediately going quiet afterward.
"Yeah."
…
…
…
….
"Um…"
"...G-Good Morning, Mom," Butch awkwardly greeted her to break the eerie silence. She was just staring at him...as if he was a zombie or something and she didn't even pick the pan of muffins off the floor.
"Good Morning," she finally replied, gaze shifting the fallen muffins.
Concerned, Butch dared to get closer. "Here, i'll help you."
Squatting down, he picked up each spilled muffin, placing it back in the tray, flew up to the counter for an oven mitt, then placed the pan onto there, all while his mother silently watched.
"Such a gentleman," she spoke again, watching as Butch's lips parted, face reddening from the sudden compliment.
"Uh...y-yeah well, t-that was nothing!" he bashfully replied, looking away from her. The still open oven door revealed yet another pan of muffins. Were those supposed to last through lunch? Talk about overkill.
"You must be hungry," she neutrally spoke, closing the oven but she didn't turn it off either. Instead, she reached for a small plastic plate from the cupboard and set a fresh muffin on it, gesturing for him to come sit.
So he did.
"Mom, won't the rest of muffins burn?"
"Hmm?"
"The oven. You forgot to turn it off."
"Those aren't quite ready."
"Oh...ok," said Butch. That made sense, so he turned to the muffin, blowing generously before indulging the fluffy chocolate creation.
"Would you like some milk?" she offered, placing a hand on the refrigerator door.
"Yes, please."
"Ok," she replied, reaching for the gallon of milk, poured him a cup and set it down next to his plate.
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
"So mom," Butch used the rare opportunity to have a conversation with the woman. "How come you don't talk to us and stuff?"
The curly redhead woman got quiet again, as if contemplating her words. "It is hard to explain."
That intrigued his young mind. "What's so hard about it?"
"The muffins. They are about to burn, please remove them from oven…..and be careful."
Raising a brow, Butch simply nodded. He didn't mind assisting her but why did she dodge his question? Her eyes though...they felt off….
Slipping on an oven mitt, Butch opened the stove door, retrieving the pan of super burnt muffins, practically hard as rock.
"Whoa, these got crispif-"
"Ahhhh!"
She shoved him into the oven, shutting the door.
"WHAT THE-!" "MOM!" Butch yelled for his mother, pushing against the scorching hot door in a frantic manner, knee caps roasting on the iron.
"MOM!" Butch cried out, fighting to open the stove but his mother was pushing back against him. His skin was starting to burn, clothes getting dry and hard, skin incredibly sweating.
"MOM, PLEASE!"
"MY CLOTHES!"
"MOM, STOP IT PLEASE! I'M BEGGING!"
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!"
"MOM!'
"SOMEONE HELP ME!"
"BRICKKKKKKK!"
"BOOMERRRR!"
"MOJOOOOOO!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
*Clatter!*
The door opened to reveal his elder brother who swiftly grabbed him, speeding off to the sink to hose off his burning clothes and blistered skin, tears welling up at his winces and yelps of pain.
Trembling, Butch's wet eyes widened at the sight of his mother picking herself off the floor.
"WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" he deliriously screamed at her, tears streaming down his face.
"HOW COULD YOU?!"
"It's ok Butch, I'm here now. You're safe," Brick tried to reassure his brother, hugging him.
"ANSWER ME!" Butch professed, heavily breathing, shocked at the woman walking out of the kitchen with no regard for her actions.
He should have called her out on her bullshit, clearly too trusting of people at the time. What did he do deserve that? A real mother wouldn't do that to her son, but after awhile it became clear to Butch that she never wanted them anyway because taking out whatever rage on your innocent son made perfect sense. But when he saw it happening to his brothers….
Butch was in the kitchen, plating himself some slices of leftover pizza for breakfast. It was 11:00 am on a Saturday Morning, Brick had left a note telling them he had gone out grocery shopping with Mojo. He could've just woken him up, Butch wanted to get some laffy taffy, but he called and told them anyway. Boomer had gotten up before him, doing his macaroni art on a picture frame for a drawing he made. To Butch, that was incredibly boring but if it made his brother happy then he encouraged his artwork to point where Boomer got creative with everything from eggshells, to mud, a dead cockroach, though it was funny when their mom ran off screaming.
The happiness of his brothers made Butch feel better about their problems. They always had each other's backs and mostly took care of themselves as precaution ever since his...incident. Mojo hadn't done anything noticeable prior to saying that he would handle the situation but his mother never tried it again, so he probably did but the trauma of fire was still there, to the point of making Brick promise to not use his fire powers around him when they were outside playing. Mojo just said the fear would go away after a while and that it was a normal reaction to have and as a result, Butch avoided fire like the plague.
Walking into the hallway with pizza, Butch heard a loud sound.
*Shatter!*
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" the sound of Boomer's pained scream plummeted through the open hallways.
"Boomer?!
"My eyeeeee!"
Dropping his pizza, Butch zoomed off to the sound of his youngest brother's cries, finding them in the living room. Boomer was on his knees, desperately holding his left eye. The macaroni art picture frame he was working on, laid broken on the floor with shattered glass.
"My eye!" It hurts!" Boomer sobbed, a few dribbles of blood trailing down his face.
That made Butch angry.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" he screamed at his standstill mother, blankly staring at them.
"ANSWER ME!" he yelled again, flying up in her face this time in a showdown of stares, hands curling to fists at his side.
She didn't even look like she cared.
"B-Butch, glass got in my eye!" Boomer cried for help, worried about possibly going blind like the people in the movies.
Grrrrrr.
"Screw you!"
Butch flew over to Boomer, carrying his brother off to the bathroom to attend to his eye until Brick and Mojo got back.
Because somewhere in that shithole brain of hers, said it was a great idea to fuck them up forever…..until he snapped.
"Hey guys, are we still playing-!"
"Guys?" Butch said, walking inside of the empty house.
Mnnnnh!
MMM!
*Sounds of splashing water*
"STOP IT, HE CAN'T BREATHE!"
That was Boomer's voice...so that could only mean...
"No...not Brick too.."
Fists dangerously tightening at his sides, Butch sped off to the bathroom, charging a fist straight into his mother's face, sending her body crashing into the wall.
Heavily breathing, Butch looked down at the drenched, hunched over Brick in the bathtub, coughing up water.
"Brick are you, ok?!" spat a worried Boomer, patting his back to support his breathing.
When Brick nodded his head in response, Butch's eyes shot over to his good for nothing mother, unconscious on the bathroom tiles.
No one messed with his brothers under his watch. NO ONE!
That bitch was so far off the deep end, willing to disturb their mental states to give Mojo and that pink-skinned bastard what they wanted instead of making use of their super abilities to get her to safety. Had she only said something, this wouldn't have happened but she wanted to ruin them for life. Well jokes on her because Butch made something out of himself, he worked his ass off just like every other fucking human on this planet to become his best in everything he did, from the late nights at the library, harassing teachers until he was capable of solving his academic problems on his own, played every sport in high school, created his very own battle course to practice his fighting. He did it all on pure willpower and hard work.
Why Boomer chose to stay with Mojo was beyond him and Brick, oh that bastard lost himself in pursuit of another bastard. How? How could he stay with HIM after all that demon man did to them?
Tch. Whatever.
His brothers were alive and clearly well. With that, Butch could suffice to focus on getting even stronger. This hero school was run by the best of the best. He wanted to be on that level, he would get on that level, no matter how much effort it took!
A rare bright green and black butterfly flew towards him, landing right on his nose lightly batting its wings.
"What the hell? Get off!" he swatted at the insect, shooing it away but the thing was made of paper. The heck?!
A fairly tall native American girl with brown skin and long flowing black hair approached him.
"Sorry about that, I didn't see you coming," spoke her cool, confident voice.
"You made that thing?"
She nodded extending a hand out to him. "Yes, my ability allows me to materialize my spiritual energy into a craft. I'm Aabha but you may call me Pocahontas."
He briefly nodded, dismissing her polite gesture. Weird powers but he didn't care to make friends right now. "Butch. You know where the examination grounds are?" he got straight to the point. She retracted the hand, unseemingly bothered by his walls of defense.
"Yes," Aabha spoke, turning in the supposed direction. "You have to get registered by administration first. I can guide you there."
"Cool," Butch replied, following behind her to the administration building.