Title: Under a Harlequin Spotlight

Chapter One: Mic's Karaoke Bar

Pairing(s): none for this chapter.

Rating: T, because I said so.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the shirt on my back.

Summary: The truth to one's past might be the key to their future...

A/N: Do people even read the Author's Note?

~ 8/6/12 EDIT: I went back and made the first two chapters a bit longer and more interesting. Also spell checked.

xoxo -ml

Chapter One - Mic's Karaoke Bar

"If I could find you now, things would get better. We could leave this town and run forever..."

"Buttercup!"

Buttercup Utonium rolled her lime green eyes at herself in the bathroom mirror and ignored her older sister's cry. She had been attempting to style her short, jet black hair, trying and failing to find a suitable use for it other than lying on her head like a limp raccoon, when out of grueling habit she had started to sing to herself. She couldn't help it, really. If there was one thing in the entire world she loved more than sleeping in, or fighting, or sneaking out to visit Lake Townsville in the middle of the night, she loved to sing.

"Let your waves crash down on me, and take-"

Unfortunately, her two sisters and her father seemed to find her singing annoying and incessant.

"ButterCUP!"

This time it was Bubbles' shrill voice that broke off her song.

"Sorry!" she called back with an exasperated tone. It wasn't really a lie. She was sorry... Sorry her sisters didn't appreciate her singing. It wasn't that she couldn't sing, it was just the fact that she never stopped doing it around the house. She sang more than she had ever spoken to her family in her life.

She sighed, deciding that her hair wasn't going to improve any, and opened the door, only to collide head-first into Bubbles.

"Buttercup!" her blonde-haired sister groaned, staggering backwards with the collision. "It's about time you got out of there! There are other people who have to use the toilet, too."

Buttercup barely nodded in response. She was always doing something wrong. Her sisters always found a way to blame everything on her. Always the victim. It was best to just let them have the upper hand. As long as she stayed out of their way, she was safe. All she had to do was blend in with the shadows; pretend like she wasn't even there. If she so much as stepped into the light, she was wrong. No matter what.

She stepped sideways out of her sister's way and made a beeline for her bedroom. Luckily she had been voted the odd one out when the three girls had grown too old for a playroom anymore and they turned it into another bedroom. And of course, Blossom and Bubbles pleaded with her to take the lone bedroom so the two of them could have their own space to share. But it didn't take much pleading. Buttercup was more than content with the solitude. Blossom and Bubbles had always been the most similar of the three, anyways. Buttercup was always different.

As soon as she entered her room, she flicked on her light switch and tapped a few buttons on her stereo system. Immediately, the song she had recently been singing blasted obnoxiously through the speakers and she smiled again at herself. The bass sent a pumping vibration underneath her feet, and the rest of her family could no doubt hear it downstairs. She knew it was only a matter of time before the Professor confiscated her stereo, too, but for the meantime, she enjoyed it while she could.

She hummed along to the song while she rummaged through her closet for something to wear. It was early one Saturday evening, and Buttercup was going to a bar.

Yes, so, she was seventeen and shouldn't be allowed at a bar, so what. It wasn't a real bar. It was a karaoke bar. She worked there. Not behind the bar or anything, she wasn't that sneaky, but simply in the dining area. She washed dishes, bused tables, and took orders from the people who weren't trying to become so intoxicated they couldn't see straight. And that was just the way she liked it. The usual guests were usually show choir champions or Broadway-bound teenagers, and they never ceased to turn her green with envy (no pun intended). Sometimes, though, the bar was visited by families, couples, and mischievous men who were just looking for a hook-up. And boy, did they look. Buttercup tried to stay away from those derisive men as best she could, hiding out in the kitchen whenever a group of them would enter her area. But the drunk, obnoxious men were only one minor, unimportant flaw in the job. And that wasn't the part that was most exciting.

It was every other weekend or so that Buttercup was welcomed to entertain not only the guests but herself, as well. Once she stood up there on that stage, proposing her alias: "BC", and started to sing... It was like the entire world stopped. People from across the bar would swivel their chairs to have a look at the passionate girl onstage. People just leaving would stop dead in their tracks and wait for her to finish before reentering the club, hooting and howling for an encore. Even the owner of the club, a man by the name of Mr. Severini, would clap his large hands together and whistle between his teeth after she'd finished. Buttercup loved her job, and everyone loved her. She knew that this was her one step closer to fame, and each time she stood in that spotlight, she felt like an entirely new person. There was nothing that could make her feel better than standing up on that stage with the crowd cheering her name. She felt so good, so right, so at home...

She was daydreaming again. Unfortunately for her, it was a Friday night, and Friday was one of the most busy nights of the week. Mr. Severini only allowed her to go onstage if it was a slow night, in hopes of picking up business a bit. It usually helped, but on such a busy night, it wasn't very likely that she would get a chance.

Still, it was better to be prepared than regretful. She threw on a pair of black shorts and a white v-neck with lime green suspenders and matching green converse. She peered one last time into the mirror over her desk, and, giving up on her hair, turned off her favourite song and headed downstairs to the living room.

"Thank goodness," Blossom muttered as Buttercup passed her, laying on the couch with her nose buried in a book. "I thought you'd never turn that garbage off."

Again, Buttercup ignored her sister and continued into the kitchen, where she found the Professor sitting at the table with a bowl of cereal in one hand, his Blackberry in the other. Ever since the Professor's science corporation went viral, he'd made sure to own every sort of electronic known to man.

The two exchanged no words of acknowledgement as Buttercup reached into the cupboard for a granola bar, or anything to keep her going for the night. She loved food, but seeing as Bubbles was the only one in their house who could cook anything without burning the house down, and she was gone half the time nowadays, taking random trips with her friends and staying out late at parties, she didn't have much time for cooking —or eating in general— anymore. So Buttercup stuck with the S'mores Flavoured Chewy bar and shoved it into her mouth, whole.

As she munched, she hummed, and before she reached her favourite part in the song she was humming, the Professor put down his Blackberry and shot her a stern look. She pretended not to see him and belted out the last few words of the song, just to annoy him. Bubbles entered the kitchen, her hands over her ears and her mouth wide open.

"Would somebody shut her off?" she cried shrilly, forcing tears into her eyes. Blossom entered quickly behind her and threw a pillow towards Buttercup's face. She ducked just in time, the pillow flying over her head and landing harmlessly onto the floor, but it was too late. They had already ruined her big finish. She died down the last note and glared at her three haters.

Bubbles uncovered her ears and sighed. "Thank you," she scoffed, retrieving the pillow from behind her sister and softly smacking her with it as she walked by.

"No, thank you for ruining my solo," Buttercup muttered.

"Trust me, you don't need our help for that," Blossom scoffed. Buttercup stuck her tongue out at her.

"Girls, please." The Professor raised an eyebrow with a bite of his cereal. Blossom stuck her nose in the air.

"Yes, please, Buttercup."

Bubbles cleared her throat softly. "At least lower the volume," she said nicely, trying not to hurt her feelings.

"To mute." Blossom added.

"You know we like your singing," Bubbles tried again. "Just... not in the house. All the time."

Blossom scoffed and waved her arm, snatching the pillow from Bubbles' hands. "Don't you have work or something?"

Buttercup grinned devilishly. "Just warming up," she replied with a nod. "Want to hear my favourite part?"

Blossom and Bubbles shook their heads frantically and screamed, "NO!" in unison.

The Professor raised an eyebrow with a bite of his cereal. "No, thank you, Buttercup," he said as politely as he could. "We don't want you to strain yourself." but she could tell he didn't want to hear it. And that was just fine with her.

She smirked and shrugged, grabbing another granola bar from off the shelf. "Eh, suit yourselves." She picked up her bag from the floor by the couch and with a wave of her hand, Buttercup flew out the door and towards the only place where she was accepted for who she was. And that place was Mic's Karaoke Bar.

"I think we should have it at the mall."

"Boomer, what kind of sane person has their birthday at the fucking mall?"

"Sorry Butch, just trying to help."

Brick shook his head and sighed. "No, it's gotta be someplace mature," he said with some thought. "I mean, we're gonna be eighteen. That's a huge step guys." his two brothers nodded in agreement. He scratched his head thoughtfully. "We could have it at a teen club..."

Boomer snorted and Butch shook his head. "Too many fourteen-year-old whores." Brick shrugged. He was right.

"I got it!" Butch chimed with a snap of his fingers. Brick and Boomer looked to him expectantly. "Why not have it at a bar?"

"What bar is gonna believe we're 21?" Brick asked with a sneer.

"Not like, a drinking bar," Butch said, rolling his eyes. "I mean like that new bar that opened up on Park Avenue last year. What's it called again?"

Boomer snapped his fingers. "It's called Mic's! Remember we robbed that place when we were little?"

Brick nodded. "Yeah," he said, remembering. "It used to be some liquor store or something."

"But what is it now?" Boomer asked, suddenly concerned. "Isn't it like a karaoke bar? Ain't those for sissies?"

Brick thought for a moment. "What do you mean, a 'karaoke bar'?" he wondered aloud.

"You know, karaoke," Butch said easily, rubbing the backs of his hands. "Like where people sing and shit."

"Fuck, I don't sing," Brick scoffed.

"You don't have to," Butch replied. "That's what other people go for. Well, that and the booze."

"Drunk people singing..." Boomer mumbled. "Sounds like fun."

"I guess," Brick agreed with a half-shrug.

Butch threw his arms out anxiously. "So? That a yes?" Boomer nodded, his hair falling slightly into his eyes. Brick just shrugged one of his shoulders, yawning.

"I don't see why not," said Boomer casually.

"Boom, get Mic's on the phone," Brick said with a grin.

Butch scoffed. "Why's he gotta call them for?"

Boomer nodded. "Yeah, why do I gotta call them for?"

"Shut up, Boomer," Butch said, smacking his brother in the face.

Brick rolled his eyes. "Don't you think we ought'a warn 'em before we make a grand entrance?"

Butch blinked. "No."

"Just call them," Brick barked.

Boomer jumped and pulled out his cell phone.

Brick grinned. "Looks like we're celebrating our birthday at Mic's Karaoke Bar."

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