A/N: This story features Faberry, Brittana, and the Unholy Trinity as teenaged Powerpuff Girls. Obviously, this is AU. The idea began as oneshot crack fic, but developed into a multi-chapter serious (with a bit of tongue-in-cheek vibe at times) story. I have not seen this actually written out yet, but if there is a similar story out there and I missed it, I apologize for encroaching on anyone's creative space.
There's a few people (all tumblr users) I'd like to thank and mention. First, luckypressure for putting the idea in my head with some amazing art quite some time ago and credit to her for the term "Quinniepuff". Second, ustealmywaffles for helping me get the ball rolling.
Finally, a huge thanks to thoughtsinorange for being an awesome beta. Seriously. Now everyone go bug her into updating her fics.
Powerpuff
"The city of Lima! Soon to be the home of a national champion glee club! I got a great feeling about this Emma," Will says. He stands just outside the front door of his home, taking in the fresh morning.
"You and the kids have been working very hard. I have every faith that it'll happen for you this year. And I, for one, can't wait to see them perform," Emma says as she joins him, locking the door behind her.
"Just one more day of dress rehearsals. I have a feeling we'll be practicing late tonight so you'll probably want to drive separate," Will says, offering his arm. He escorts Emma to her car and opens the driver's door.
"I'll take care of dinner then," Emma says. "See you at school."
As soon as he leans in to kiss her, pink, baby blue, and light green zoom overhead. The speed brings a gust of wind, ruffling clothes and hair, and a faint zip of noise accompanies the rush. Will pulls back from the kiss and watches as the green streak suddenly veers off from the formation. Green rushes headlong back toward him, a girl with long dark hair visible in its halo of color. He groans slightly, but stands his ground.
Just as he thinks she actually won't stop this time, Santana pulls up on a dime. She hovers in front of him, hair in disarray.
"Mr. Schue, its much too early for me to see you macking on anyone. Actually, it's always too early for that. Get a freaking room."
"Good morning Santana, good luck out there," Will says with as much patience as possible.
"Yeah whatever," Santana huffs. "See you in glee."
Then she's off again, a trail of green in her wake.
Emma is smiling as he turns his attention back to her. "She's always charming isn't she?"
"She certainly has her moments,"
"Will, you need to give her some more credit. I know all three of them are you students, and you feel the need to teach them all the manner of lessons, but they're out saving Lima before 7:00 a.m.."
"Yes, I know. Santana's…abrasive at times."
"Will," Emma says, scolding.
Will sighs, wishing not for the first time that he had superpowers. He likes to think he would be quite good at saving the day, but Lima's fate instead rests on the shoulders of three high school girls under Sue Sylvester's thumb no less. Emma's right though, he needs to give them more credit. Quinn, Brittany, and Santana have proven their abilities time and time again…
Brittany watches herself deliver an uppercut, admiring her streaking blue form. "Bam! Pow!" She adds for effect because the video recording is silent. Or Coach Sylvester put the television on mute. (One time, Brittany left her TV on mute for a whole week. Her favorite show had been making no sense, and she found she enjoyed it much more on mute where she could make up the dialogue. She has since turned her sound back on, but she still watches that particular show on mute in order to ensure the characters are acting the way they should.) Her opponent, a mutated ape, falls to the ground completely stunned.
"Nice job Brits," Santana says. Brittany smiles in return, pleased. She then frowns as the video shakes and blurs before focusing amid chaos on Quinn.
Video-Quinn absolutely wrecks her monster opponent. Real-Quinn, sitting beside her, looks impassive, but Brittany knows she's actually super upset. (The thing with Quinn, Brittany has long since realized, is that she's sometimes backwards. Fortunately, Brittany is really good at telling when Quinn is being backwards). It's telling in the way her shoulders tense and in the slight flexing of her fingers. Brittany focuses back on the recording in time to see the monster thrown into the air. Quinn chases after it, delivering a pink roundhouse that sends the creature crashing right into an unaware Santana.
Real-Santana mutters in Spanish under her breath. The only understandable word is "puta."
Brittany winces as the rest of the footage unfolds the end to their battle that morning. Well, her battle at that point. Santana gets up and immediately starts shouting at Quinn who responds accordingly. It doesn't take long for the two's squabble to escalate into something physical. Off-screen from Quinn and Santana's silly fight—and it is really silly because neither of them put even a margin of their strength into it—Brittany knows she was busy cleaning up the rest of the bad guys.
"Sloppy! Absolutely sloppy! I am disgusted," Coach Sylvester says. She takes a sip of whatever strange mixture is in her glass today and then sneers at them. "Q! What are girls made of?"
"I don't know Coach," Quinn says tightly.
Brittany frowns. Everyone knows what girls are made of. She raises her hand.
"Brittany, go," Coach Sylvester says, pointing at her, but not taking her eyes off Quinn.
"Sugar, spice, and everything nice!" Brittany answers. Santana shoots her a smile from the other side of Quinn.
"Which is absolutely an abhorrent recipe! You can't make national champion cheerleaders out of that! Much less Nazi hunters!," Coach Sylvester says. She slams her glass on the table. "Three years ago, you three were lucky enough to be selected onto the varsity squad, despite only being freshmen. As such, you ended up doing all the dirty work, washing the laundry, participating in experimental diets, and the like. One day, late spring, I asked you into my office and what happened?"
Silence. Coach Sylvester glares at them over her desk. Brittany fidgets.
"We drank—" Santana begins.
"Santana!" Coach says sharply. "Was I asking a question?"
"Y—" Santana begins again.
"No, I wasn't. It was rhetorical. The silence was meant to make you uncomfortable so that you would sit there until those sweet, sweet tears of apology would start to roll and begin to make up for the travesty that was this morning. Now, back to my monologue… That day, I had decided that you were the chosen ones. You three would rule the Cheerios for the next three years! That was a stupid decision, by the way, made in ignorance of your true idiocy that you so finely put on display this morning. That day, in celebration, I had you try my newest diet—the concoction I had finally perfected—in an attempt to make you the perfect little girls, which, as I've drilled into your thick skulls time and time again, is synonymous with being the best cheerleaders this country has ever seen. So unbeknownst to you at the time, I had finally perfected the mixture into making my vision of the perfect little girl. But I accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction… Chemical X! That day was supposed to be the birth of the ultimate cheerleaders! Girls who would use their ultra-superpowers to dedicate their lives to fighting crime, the forces of evil, and the last remaining vestiges of Nazis. Instead, I ended up with you three. With real superpowers."
This is not the first time Coach Sylvester has told this story. Brittany thinks they've heard it at least once a week since the incident. She remembers that day very well. They came to Coach Sylvester's office as commanded, wary of what was in store for them next from their temperamental coach. Coach Sylvester promptly informed them that Quinn would be the captain for next year and Santana and Brittany would take second and third command respectively. These positions were conditioned only on them trying one last experimental shake. Figuring it couldn't be any worse than anything else they've tried from their coach, they drank without worry.
Of course, when they collectively collapsed unconscious minutes later, it proved that belief wrong.
They were out for some time according to Coach Sylvester. Brittany remembers waking and, after shaking off the grogginess, feeling like a unicorn must feel—brilliant and glorious and formidable. She also remembers Coach Sylvester being super apologetic. And that was strange. Very, very strange. (She knows now that Coach has a lab in her home devoted to making experimental diets and that Chemical X had been stored in that lab. Apparently Chemical X, given to Coach by her mother who had confiscated it from a Nazi hideout, had fallen into the blender. Santana still wonders aloud at times if it was truly an accident). Santana and Quinn were not as thrilled at having superpowers, and, in the beginning, they fought all the time. Brittany understood their conflict even if she didn't agree with it. But Santana and Quinn were troubled in other ways without the presence of superpowers, and so they fought with cruel words and backstabbing but never using their new physical gifts (until this morning). Brittany had hated it. But Coach was with them every step of the way, and Santana and Quinn's hesitation and doubt slowly gave way…
And—Oh, Coach Sylvester is still talking.
"—Santana, Quinn, I'm absolutely sickened by that embarrassment this morning. I haven't been training you for a circus-act! Now get out of my office! I think I'll vomit up my protein shake if I have to look at you anymore."
Good, Brittany thinks, she definitely didn't miss anything important. They file out of the office, and as soon as the door is closed behind them, Santana whirls on Quinn.
"Whatever's going on Quinn, fix it. I literally can't look at your face right now. Brits, come on. Let's grab some lunch and leave Q to sulk," Santana says.
Brittany moves in close to Santana, who smiles at her. "Save me a seat? I'm going to talk to Quinn," she says.
"Yeah, I figured. It's probably about Berry and Frankenteen. Tell Q she's a loser for me," Santana replies.
Brittany kisses her on the cheek, purposefully grazing her lips against the corner of Santana's. Santana squeezes her hand and strides toward the cafeteria. Brittany quickly catches up to Quinn who is marching toward her locker. Her is chin up and shoulders back, but she can still tell Quinn is miserable about something.
"What is it Brittany?" Quinn sighs.
"Did you and Rachel get in a fight?"
"Why do you think Rachel's involved?"
"Because you've been super close this year!" Brittany says. She wants to say something in regards to the way Quinn looks at Rachel and how Rachel constantly seeks Quinn out. Also, how they've been obsessed with each other since forever but used Finn as a shield. She knows Quinn, with her current mood, would immediately shutdown if she brings any of this up. So she plays it safe.
Quinn huffs as her locker refuses to open at her first try at her combination. Brittany watches patiently as she tries the lock combination again. When Quinn gets it wrong a second time, she takes a deep breath, leaning her hand against the metal.
"Yes, we got in a fight," Quinn finally says quietly.
"You want to know what I do when Santana is mad at me?" Brittany says.
"Considering it probably involves a sex act, not particularly. Besides, I'm mad at Rachel too."
"What did you fight about?"
"Does it matter?"
"Maybe. You need to open your ears."
"Don't you mean eyes?" Quinn says. Once again, she can't get her locker open, and this time, her composure disappears entirely. "Are you kidding me!"
A flash of pink, and Quinn's fist slams through the locker. The metal crunches inwards, bending off its hinges. Quinn then rips the metal door off entirely, and it goes skidding down the hallway. The background noise surrounding them completely vanishes. Brittany shifts uncomfortably as the students loitering in the hallway look at them with open shock. Coach Sylvester and Principal Figgins had made it clear to every student, McKinley's PTA, and the school board that any display of their powers on campus would result in immediate suspension.
Brittany frowns at the locker door, crunched and bent beyond recognition. She then brightens, waving at students in the hallway. "No one saw that right?" Brittany says loudly. Silence. "No? Great!"
"Thanks Brit," Quinn says quietly. She shoves her books from her morning classes into her locker. She hesitates; hand poised over her afternoon books, and then drops her arms down entirely. "I think I'm going to skip lunch and fly around town. I'll be back for my afternoon classes."
Quinn wants to be alone. She's like that, Brittany knows. It's always been her way of coping with her problems. She just wishes sometimes Quinn would depend on her and Santana too. Brittany calls out to her as she's presented with the back of a blonde head. "Open up your ears. If you're both mad at each other, it's probably because you're not really listening."
Quinn walks away showing no sign that she heard her, but Brittany knows she did.
Brittany strolls over to the twisted locker door and picks it up. With little effort, she bends it back into at least a discernible shape and sets it in the opening of Quinn's locker. She winces, as it still falls in onto Quinn's books, but it's good enough for now. Maybe it'll magically get fixed by the janitor (she'll have a word with him later; he's a nice, harmless man). Smiling cheerily, she heads toward the cafeteria, ready to relax with Santana over the remainder of lunch hour.
Rachel is not the first to the auditorium. In fact, she's late because even Mr. Schuester is here. She absolutely hates being late—but the zipper on her Nationals' dress had gotten stuck and she left her shoes for the performance in her car. They had to wear their costumes today as part of their last day of dress rehearsals. The whole day had been awful really, and they're leaving for Nationals tomorrow! Everything should be fun and excitement and maybe a few nerves. The last thing she wants is to be fighting with Quinn. Not now.
Not when Finn is finally behind them.
Not when Quinn has become her closest friend and confidante.
Not when she's starting to accept that Quinn makes her heart race in all the ways Finn never could.
Rachel takes a deep breath as she sees her. Quinn sits alone, legs dangling over the edge of the stage, reading a book, and ignoring the chatter of the rest of the club. She's as beautiful as ever, and their Nationals' dress is especially flattering against her pale, smooth skin. To the untrained eye, Quinn appears haughty and aloof. But Rachel can tell—she's always been able to tell Quinn's truths—that she's not even reading as she draws closer. Quinn's eyes are unfocused, her body rigid. A very small and petty part of Rachel is happy that Quinn seems just as miserable as she does. She's avoided Quinn all day—done her best to not even look at her in the three classes they share. It's impossible now, and Rachel's heart clenches at seeing Quinn so distraught.
"I apologize for my tardiness. Mr. Schue, we can begin," Rachel announces as she marches down the aisle, dress swishing. She sneaks a glance toward Quinn and is surprised to find her staring back. Rachel quickly looks down. She can't think about Quinn and their stupid fight from last night right now, not when this is their last chance to practice before Chicago.
"Finally! God, Berry, I'd thought you'd be here before the bell even rang," Santana sneers.
Rachel bites back a retort. Santana's probably angry with her too by virtue of being mad at Quinn. Since growing closer and closer to Quinn, Santana oscillates between friendly and hostile quickly enough to make her dizzy. Rachel hadn't seen Quinn and Santana's fight on the news, but she couldn't help but overhear about it in the hallways. But Santana's not being too terribly cruel, so Rachel resolves to just ignore her.
And hopefully she can keep ignoring Quinn too.
What Rachel didn't count on is the choreography of their first song getting in the way of her plans.
They aren't quite dancing with each other, but the song starts out with just the girls. Just having Quinn near her is driving her crazy. She misses her cue the first time Quinn brushes by her, and they have to start over. Rachel's ready for it the second time, but even she can tell her voice is wooden and lifeless as she concentrates on ignoring Quinn instead of the song. Mr. Schuester cuts the music off.
"Berry would you freaking get it together! We can't even get through half the first number, and I don't want to be here all night because you and Pinky over there had a spat. Yeah, don't give me that look Quinn, Brits told me. Unlike you, dwarf, some of us aren't excessively compulsive to the point of separating our animal sweaters from our polka dots, and still need to pack for tomorrow," Santana snarls.
"And who's fault is that," Quinn says coolly. Her arms are crossed, her facade icy.
Rachel wishes her heart didn't leap out of her chest at seeing Quinn jump to her defense. But she doesn't want Quinn championing her right now. She's still mad. She is. Even if she has to keep telling herself that she is. "Quinn, I can fight my own battles. Besides, Santana is right. I'm being unprofessional."
"Yeah, so back off Quinniepuff. Or do you want to go again?" Santana says lowly.
"Get over yourself Satan," Quinn says, closing in on Santana's space.
Rachel gasps and feels the unease echoed in the others as Santana shifts into a fighting stance, fists clenched at her sides and Quinn following suit.
"Girls," Mr. Schuester says. He seems like he's trying to sound stern, but Rachel thinks he just sounds nervous.
There's a moment of tense silence and then a flash of light blue. In a blink, Brittany is between Quinn and Santana. Her hands press into each of their chests, putting distance between them. "Stop it San," Brittany says. "You too Quinn. And people think I'm stupid."
Santana glares at Quinn one last time. Then she sighs dramatically, and her body relaxes. "Quit taking all your Berry problems out on me," Santana says with one last parting shot. She then wraps an arm around Brittany, leaning her head against her shoulder. She's just loud enough for Rachel to hear "you're not stupid Brit."
Rachel turns, looking to Quinn. But Quinn has already stalked back to her starting position, eyes fixed straight ahead.
They get through the first song on the third try, and Mr. Schuester only makes them go through it three more times. The next two songs don't present any difficulty for her, but Finn keeps messing up the choreography. Santana only huffs and puffs at him out of earshot though, confirming Rachel's belief that she took her frustration with Quinn out on her (and maybe in part, blaming her for Quinn's behavior too). After a number of run-throughs, Finn finally perfects the steps. They then do the complete program, all three numbers non-stop. Rachel allows herself a smile as they complete the final song. They're competition ready.
Of course, once through is not enough to guarantee success. Neither is twice or three times. Rachel would like to go for a fourth and a fifth even, but the rest of the club has reached their breaking point. Her argument falls on deaf ears. And Quinn normally—well it doesn't really matter what Quinn would normally do. Mr. Schuester calls it a night and tells them all to be at the school at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow so they can get on the road to Chicago.
Kurt walks over, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, as everyone else begins to collect their things. He angles his head toward Quinn. "You want to talk about it?" he says quietly.
Rachel hesitates. She shakes her head. Wait, no. She does want to talk about it. She nods. "We got into a fight last night," she says.
"I gathered," Kurt responds. "Does it related to my brother?" He waves Blaine off as he steps toward them.
"Yes… no. It was bad. I kicked her out of my house."
"She didn't scare you or anything did she…physically I mean?" he says reluctantly.
"No! She would never!" The thought, the idea, is unsettling. Quinn may have superpowers, but Rachel knows that she would never ever use them against her (As scary as it was at the time, Quinn punching the mirror in the bathroom at prom last year under that kind of distress instead of slapping her is proof enough, but even without that…). She knows this like she knows the sun rises in the East, that her fathers love each other, that her name will one day light up on Broadway.
"I know, I know!" Kurt soothes. "I just… I wanted to be sure. What with her and Santana and…"
"Quinn and Santana fight each other because they can. It's just what they do. It's what they've always done. Brittany explained it to me one time, but the most I understood out of it is that that is just how their relationship works. Granted, I don't believe they actually get physically violent with each other. Except, you know, today."
"Santana's stressed about Brittany's grades. Has been for a while," Kurt says. "Quinn's stressed about…you. Put them together, and it's volatile."
"She's stressed about the fight you mean," Rachel says.
"I meant what I said," Kurt says. He continues quickly before she can manage to interrupt. "They still shouldn't be fighting. Physical violence is not the answer to their problems."
Rachel watches Quinn as she exits the auditorium—no doubt heading toward the locker room to change out of the dress. "I don't believe in it either, but sometimes I wonder what it's like to have all that power on your fingertips and have to control it at all times…"
"They control it, all three of them, because they are good. Blaine would love this conversation—Sam probably too."
Rachel gives him a look.
"The repercussions of having power," Kurt says. "Never mind, that's not the point. The point is that you and Quinn got into a fight, and both of you are obviously hurt by it. Furthermore, my brother has been moping around all day, so no doubt this all stemmed from something he did."
Mr. Schuester is waving at them to leave—most likely so he can lock up the auditorium for the night. Rachel sighs and jumps down from the stage, Kurt following suit. All of her things remain in her car from when she ran out to retrieve her shoes before rehearsal so she doesn't have to worry about getting out of her Nationals' dress. She's kind of glad. It means she gets to avoid changing in the locker room and Quinn. Mostly Quinn. And mostly naked Quinn at that. And… Stop, Rachel tells herself. Just stop. It's not the time. It's not her right.
"It was a stupid argument. It got blown way out of proportion," Rachel says as they reach the doors to the auditorium. Kurt is silent, waiting for her to continue. "Finn did come over last night. While Quinn was there no less. We both finally had some free time. It was the first chance we've had to 'hang out' since Regionals outside of a school setting. Finn was…persistent about taking him back. I eventually persuaded him to leave. That's when things got out of control."
"Well, at least it wasn't while Finn was still there," Kurt offers. Rachel squeezes his arm in thanks, thinking back to last night. Quinn had been icy and unapologetic, but her eyes… Her eyes kept telling Rachel a whole different story.
"She asked me if Finn was being difficult about the breakup. I admitted that things haven't been perfect. And she asked me if I wanted her to scare him off! I told her, for one, that I hate violence, and, for another, I can deal with my own problems."
"Rachel, I know I haven't always been Quinn's biggest fan, but I don't think she meant it violently."
"I know that," Rachel says petulantly. And she did, but Finn had set her on edge.
"So what's the problem?"
"The second issue… Quinn said that she just wants to help. But she said it so defensively! I might have then made a comment about how if she wants to help me, she should be there instead of constantly chasing after monsters and criminals," Rachel says, wincing at that memory and the briefest glance of genuine hurt Quinn had given her before putting on her cool facade. Remembering that look breaks her now, but she had been too wound up thanks to Finn to tell herself that hurting Quinn was the last thing she wanted. "And she said something about me practicing all the time. You know I've been practicing Kurt. Constantly. Before the NYADA audition and after because—"
"Carmen Tibideaux is going to be at Nationals, I know," Kurt says dryly.
Rachel ignores his tone. They have talked about it repeatedly, but that one little detail means everything. "I can't disappoint. I can't. What if she changes her mind? What if I mess up in front of her? I can't overlook that detail. And don't say I'm being irrational because that is exactly what Quinn said last night! After telling me that I don't have to practice every hour of every day! It's my future Kurt! And she wants me to just relax? I can't!"
"You know she has all the faith in the world in you right?" Kurt says. Then so softly she can barely hear, Kurt says again, "She always has, I think."
Rachel's heart hammers angrily in her chest from reliving the argument, and she struggles to control her breathing. Kurt's words ring true, but it doesn't change the fact that they said some very hurtful things to each other. These past couple of months have been so busy. For Rachel, it's been the stress of NYADA auditions, breaking up with Finn, Regionals, then Nationals, and her future.
For Quinn… Coach Sylvester has been training Quinn, Brittany, and Santana nonstop, no doubt because her time mentoring them is coming to a close. The whole world knows about the three girls to some extent—it's impossible for something like three teenaged superheroes not to become public knowledge with the Internet—but Coach Sylvester has always intercepted the media and made it very clear to all that her three protégés would not be going anywhere until they had graduated high school. Then it would be their choice as to where they would take their superpowers. (Coach Sylvester is also to blame for their rather amusing nickname after mentioning it in a rant on media attention during a press conference. The Powerpuff Girls is cutesy and harmless sounding, and Brittany of course loves it. Quinn doesn't particularly care for it, and Rachel knows Santana puts up with it because of Brittany. Quinn confessed to her that she has designs to rebrand them once they move away from Lima.)
Between her practice schedule, and Quinn's training, they've hardly had time for each other and their relationship, whatever it actually may be. Whatever Rachel actually wants it to be. And during prom—when they went as friends—Quinn spent half of it having to beat up reanimated dinosaurs.
That was the crux of their fight last night, and she tells Kurt just so.
"It's not a bad thing to fight about, wanting to spend time with each other," Kurt says.
"I know," Rachel says in a small voice. "I was hoping that Nationals would be a fun diversion for us, and we could really spend some quality time together...as friends..." Kurt looks unimpressed at her addition of friends, but she ignores him, stating softly, "Now I'm afraid that we're going to be trying to avoid each other the entire time. Kurt, what if we go back to square one? I've never had a fight quite like that with anyone."
"Your relationship is not going to regress. And that fight felt different because you two are dancing around each other and have been for years."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel says but there's hardly any bite to her voice because Kurt's exactly right.
"You just need to talk to her," Kurt says. "She's as upset as you are. Word on the street was the she ripped her locker door clean off today."
"Oh I… I hadn't heard about that," Rachel says. "I know Quinn, and today, she…she really didn't seem like she wanted to talk to anyone." But especially me, Rachel thinks.
"Just talk to her Rachel. You might still be angry with her, and that's fine. But you've both had time to cool down from whatever you may have said last night. Hear things from her side of the story."
"Do you and Blaine ever fight?" Rachel asks. "You seem to have everything figured out."
Kurt mercifully ignores her comparison of her relationship with Quinn to him and his boyfriend. "We do fight. It's easier when you're the third party looking in. Speaking of Blaine…" Kurt trails off, smiling at the sight of his boyfriend waiting a little ways down the hall, out of his Nationals suit and back in his bowtie.
"Thanks for letting me keep him for a little while Blaine," Rachel says as they approach.
"Anytime," Blaine smiles. "Do you want to change before we head out Kurt?"
"It's fine. This suit isn't too terrible actually," Kurt says.
"It looks great on you," Blaine says lowly. Rachel ducks her head as they share a look and that last bit of pettiness and anger she holds against Quinn seeps out. She misses her. She really misses her. Maybe they haven't seen each other much lately, but Quinn's been a mere phone call or text away. She resolves to call Quinn as soon as she gets home.
"Let's get out of here," Blaine says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the exit.
They chat about Nationals as they head out to the parking lot. Sam and Mercedes are there, leaning against his beat-up sedan and talking intimately. And there's Mr. Schuester, hopping into his old car. Puck's and Finn's trucks are still there too, and, without them in sight, they're most likely still inside school. It's impossible to tell where Quinn is. Quinn, Brittany, and Santana typically just fly to school. Most of the other cars are gone, and the sky is just beginning to darken. Lima is calm and peaceful. Then—
She almost doesn't feel it at first. She wonders if it is just her imagination. Then it happens again.
Then again.
And again, the earth trembles beneath her feet.
"What the…?" Blaine says. He whirls around. "What is that!"
Rachel turns and gapes. She knows she should be used to the unusual—Quinn, Santana, and Brittany have ultra superpowers after all—but she can't help but be surprised at every new monstrosity unleashed by crazed supervillians and crime lords with enough money to purchase anything they could ever dream. This thing… it's a robot of sorts. It almost looks like a transformer from that awful movie Finn made her watch sophomore year. But it has a cockpit, and inside of it, she can make out a human figure. The closer the transformer/robot draws, the more detailed the figure becomes until…
"Jesse!" She spits out, shocked.
"Oh no," says Kurt.
"Oh yes," says Jesse. His voice is broadcasted out electronically, but it's still undeniably him.
"What are you doing!" Rachel shouts.
"Coming for you!" Jesse says jovially as he pilots the robot closer. "The wonderful thing about Vocal Adrenaline is that we have a very powerful alumni base. They'll do anything to ensure the continuing glory of our glee club. And this time, that means capturing you to make sure you don't perform at Nationals, which inevitably leads to New Directions demise and Vocal Adrenaline's victory. Now that I'm the director of Vocal Adrenaline, it falls on me to perform such unsavory duties. Though I'm not entirely opposed to keeping you tied up."
"Like hell I'll let that happen!" Quinn shouts, and Rachel's heart races to an entirely new beat.
And she knows, she knows, that it's not supposed to beat like that for just a friend.
Quinn stands at the school doors, knees bent, and battle ready. She's in jeans (too many perverts out there looking for upskirt photos when she flies, she has taken to wearing pants or shorts most of the time), ballet flats, and a flowery top, but she looks every inch the warrior.
"Quinn! I was hoping you would join the party!" Jesse says, turning the robot around to face her.
"Yeah? Say one more thing about Rachel and I'll end you permanently," Quinn says coolly.
"What? You mean how I'll be taking her back to Carmel, and keeping her there under careful watch for some time? I will have to go and direct Vocal Adrenaline to yet another national title, but I have a number of friends that'll occupy her attention while I'm away," Jesse says.
"Just letting you know, Jesse," Quinn spits, "I have no patience left today, so I'm sorry if this hurts."
Then Quinn is a blur, leaving pink streaming behind her. Rachel forgets to breathe as Quinn charges Jesse. The transformer/robot swipes at her as she enters its wingspan, but Quinn easily dodges and plows straight at the cockpit. The robot staggers as the force hits, but is otherwise impossibly undamaged. Quinn shoots off, flipping over the top of the robot and aiming for its back. But there is nothing but smooth metal for Quinn's punches to bounce off of. Whatever it is that Jesse is piloting, it's certainly meant for taking a beating. But Rachel allows herself to relax, because regardless of its tank-like qualities, it's far too slow to catch Quinn.
Even better, twin blue and green streaks of light zip forward from the school. Blaine cheers from beside her, egging them on. She catches a glimpse of Jesse in the cockpit, smiling maniacally at seeing Santana and Brittany. Her stomach sinks, dread wells within, and then…
The world explodes in her ears.
Rachel staggers, her body—her head—pulsating. She keeps the darkness away for a moment. Just a moment. But it's enough to see Santana and Brittany fall to the ground. And it's enough to see Quinn, ordinarily so effortlessly commanding and beautiful, crumple to the pavement. She tries to call out, but the darkness rushes in, overtaking everything.
A/N: And...cliffhanger! Sorry friends! If you made it through, thanks for reading and I hope you come back for more.
This actually started off as preestablished Faberry, but after much discussion with thoughtsinorange, I decided to take it this route instead. Ultimately, I liked the potential drama it created too much to not go this route.
I'm shooting for this fic to be somewhere between three and five chapters, but at the conclusion of this story, this universe will be open for more exploration. I'm happy to answer any questions or comments.