Blossom was soaking wet by the time a cab finally pulled over. She yanked the door open and jumped in, and then slammed the door shut again. Her raincoat had decided not to work that day, and water was trickling in from the collar and the insides of the pockets. Her shoes were a soggy mess.

"It's really raining cats and dogs, isn't it?" She said to the cab driver in an effort to ignore the puddle her seat was becoming.

"Sure is. Where to?" The driver turned his head to see his passenger. "Hey, I know you! You're Blossom! I voted for you, ya know."

"You did?" Blossom wasn't really expecting that, because she had lost the election by an embarrassingly wide margin. "Well, thank you very much."

"Well, where to, then?"

"Psychiatric Hospital of Townsville, please."

The driver glanced sympathetically over his shoulder as he told her the price and took the money. "Going from a funeral home to a mental hospital? You must lead a pretty depressing life, don't you?"

"Can we please just go? I'm sort of in a hurry." She wasn't actually in that much of a hurry, but she didn't want to talk to a stranger about dead people or crazy people at just that moment.

The driver blushed with embarrassment at his own nosiness. "Of course." He started driving without another word.

The white noise of the rain helped Blossom think. That wasn't always a good thing. Now Blossom was thinking about, or if she was honest, dwelling on, the election. She should have known she would lose, especially to the prominent and beloved symbol of order Ms. Bellum was. Mayor of Townsville, what was she thinking? She couldn't be mayor, not with the Incident tagged to her name for life. And besides, everyone liked Ms. Bellum, including Blossom herself. How are you supposed to defeat your opponent if you don't even really think you should?

Blossom had thought that it was her ultimate goal to be mayor of Townsville, to have a chance to lead again for the first time since she was a child. Ever since the Incident, she had been studying the science of politics and the art of debate at whatever school and institution had been willing to accept her. She had worked slowly but steadily to try and rebuild public confidence in at least one former Powerpuff Girl. She thought that by now, she had done enough for her image to give her a fighting chance in the election. So much for that. As soon as she entered the hopeless race, a swarm of journalists and news reporters destroyed her with reminders to the people of the Incident. She could have responded with stories of her crime fighting days in kindergarten, but no one wants to hear that their leaders reached the pinnacle of their lives as children, and went downhill from there. Besides, Chemical X was outlawed for a reason, and the people didn't want to acknowledge that they had depended on the substance to keep their city safe.

Keeping the city safe. That was Ms. Bellum's job now, as it had been for the last twenty years. The thing was, Townsville didn't need children to keep them safe from monsters anymore. Funding from Washington and a local budget heavy on defense had really beefed up Townsville's military protection against the monsters that attacked the city all too frequently. Even on a smaller scale, a more powerful police force, equipped with the latest technology, all but eliminated crime in a city formerly plagued with one of the worst violent crime rates in the country. Ms. Bellum didn't plan on irreparably undermining Blossom's campaign her success and experience that; Ms. Bellum, actually, was one of the few people that was still on good terms with Blossom. She would always wish Blossom good luck before a debate or interview, and she always made sure that the competition was friendly.

But the voters didn't know that. All they knew was that Ms. Bellum had a history of good times to back her campaign. What did Blossom have? The Incident, and the promise to ruin Townsville for good this time around. No wonder she lost.

It didn't help, either, that Professor Utonium got sick in the last week of Blossom's campaign. He had been hospitalized as a result the Incident, and though he completely recovered short a few missing limbs, his health deteriorated in bursts in the years that followed. Countless times, he had been inches away from death with a disease no doctor could identify. He had always recovered, but in that last week…

It was Professor Utonium's funeral she was getting the cab ride from. Professor Utonium, the loving father who had raised her, was gone. Another victim of the Incident, though not as immediate as the others had been. Blossom didn't want to be crying next to a perfect stranger like this cab driver, but she was so wet from the rain that she figured a few tears here and there would blend right in. She let them trickle out.

He was really gone. Like the old Mayor of Townsville, who still haunted her in her sleep. Like Mojo Jojo, who she had realized all too late was not the villain, but the victim. Like Ms. Keane, whose body was never found. All victims of the Incident. Blossom couldn't help but feel like it was all her fault. She was in charge when it happened, after all…

"We're here." The driver nearly made Blossom jump out of her skin. He turned his head when her seat squished as she unbuckled her seat belt. "I'm sorry, but I thought I heard you crying."

Was she really that loud, that he could hear over the rainstorm? "No, I wasn't."

"Oh." The driver, again aware of his awkward interest in her personal life, looked away.

"Have a good day," Blossom said to the driver on her way out of the cab and into the rain. She was glad that she could remember to be nice. There's no need to ruin someone else's day just because yours isn't going so well. Or if there's promise that it won't be pleasant.

Not all of the victims of the Incident were dead. Blossom didn't consider herself one, because she could still think clearly. But as for her sisters…

Blossom had given up entirely on being dry and was dripping all over the mats that building have for you to wipe your feet on. Her shoes squeaked with each step and left a trail leading up to the front desk.

"How may I help you today?" an old lady behind the counter asked.

"I'd like to visit someone, please."

"Okay." She tapped something on a computer screen. "Your name and patient's name?"

"Blossom. And I'm seeing my sister, Buttercup."