Sometimes, Bubbles takes a break from all the carnage and sits down and thinks. She likes to think, about rabbits and animals and great big paintings, but she also likes to wonder.
She wonders what would life be like if she had been born in a happy world, where money didn't govern everything, and where the corruption wasn't a stank that hung in the air.
She wonders where she would be now if she hadn't gone to Him, hadn't been manipulated and deceived into thinking even more twisted thoughts than the demon himself.
She wonders where she would be now if her sisters hadn't been picked apart before her very eyes, leaving Bubbles with nothing but glowing balls of light that had danced in front of her and vanished into the cold night air.
She wonders where she would be now if she hadn't been born as herself, but instead as someone else, someone with no morals and no conscience, someone who could've prevented this entire fiasco.
She likes to wonder, but there's no point in it now, because things will never go back to normal. Her eyes are of molten gold and her blue dress has been replaced by robes of white silk so soft that they seem to be made out of water spun into cloth. A swath of the same cloth covers her eyes, dotted with tiny tawny glass eyes that swivel about. Blue wings of smoke hang in the air around her, and from her shoulders, instead of wings, two massive wooden ball-jointed arms hang. Her hair is cut short and closely to her scalp, the strands of blonde covered by white feathers that protrude from her neck and around her head.
The people around her - they look at her and they think of a spider. They swat her away, then try to stamp her out of existence. When they die, their families mourn and they turn on her. They act as if their dearly deceased were saints, and Bubbles doesn't understand why.
She sees their sin. She sees all.
They assemble every day to try and destroy her. She is not scared, she hasn't been scared in years, so instead of facing them down, she strolls through the ruined streets. She doesn't understand why they think she's destroyed them. The world had always been disgusting, but it had been hidden underneath a false layer of cheery kindness. She's only making sure that no one else is deceived like she was, and she doesn't understand why they hate her for it.
She's not the villain. She can't be. Once upon a time, she was a Powerpuff Girl. She's not anymore, but they don't understand, that doesn't mean she's a villain!
(She doesn't see the massive wooden arms at her shoulders swing around and grab the remaining survivors, crushing their heads in their grip)
The fabric of time collapses at her touch, and life bleeds out of the corpses that she does not see and flows into her. Bubbles is happy - she is finally changing the world like she wanted to, making it better, keeping the baddies away. She wished her sisters were here, wishes that they would defend her.
Bubbles Utonium doesn't understand why the citizens flee at the sight of her. She is a goddess, and she is only protecting her people. She'd like to save them, she really does, but with great power comes great responsibility.
She's not like Mange, not like the monsters in comic books that Buttercup used to worship. She is more powerful than Buttercup could ever dream, but she will not destroy. She is merely fixing, editing if you will, the world that she lives in.
She glides through the wreckage without noticing any of it. The pink and green beads hanging around her neck clatter together and she almost laughs.
She would never hurt her sisters, because she loved them. They argued, sure, but she always loved them, without question. They had helped her through the hard times, even if it had been more beneficial to save their own skins.
And now they were gone. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't killed them. At the time she had been weak, burdened and clouded by false morals, rendered unable to help them. And The Bringer had crept over them, running a swollen black tongue over massive rotting tusks.
She should've been there - at the time, she could've destroyed it in one blow. But after they were gone, she just didn't understand, and had allowed it to live. She can see the massive skeleton now - snapping at whirring black shapes amongst the rooftops.
If she had been someone else, she would've never talked to Him -haha, stupid, stupid, dead now, Bringer ate him all up, chop chop- and she would've rushed to aid her sisters. But they died and suddenly everything was gone -haha, can't feel anything, why are you screaming- and if only, oh, if only, she could've prevented all of this, and everything would be back to normal, and why, why this, why her - she didn't want this, never did. She was just Bubbles Utonium - no, she used to be Bubbles Utonium, then what was she now?
For the first time in centuries, despair claws at her heart, and at that moment, the thing that used to be Bubbles Utonium is falling apart.
For the first time in centuries, she is crying. Her tears are of molten gold, and as she collapses to her knees and into the wreckage, they fall to the ground and burn through the pavement, dissipating into curling tendrils of golden smoke.