If anyone were to look up at the sky that afternoon they might have caught a glimpse of three distinct figure gliding through the air just above the city skyline. An even closer inspection would have revealed the figures to be three girls, each around the age of twelve, dressed in matching uniforms—sleeveless bodysuits with attached skirts cut to mid thigh—distinguished only by their sharply contrasting colors of red, blue and green. They soared through the air like three slender projectiles, leaving brightly colored contrails the same shade as their uniforms streaking behind them, hair whipping dramatically in the breeze—a vibrant flock of auburn trailing waist length behind one, two golden streamers dancing past the shoulders of another, a slick curtain of black fanning against the neck of the third. To the observer in question, the sight might have seemed quite extraordinary to behold. To any veteran citizen living in the city of Townsville, the sight would have been entirely unremarkable.

Today's patrol was proving to be uneventful, as usual. Blossom scanned the placid city beneath her with waning interest. The people below went about their daily business oblivious to care or worry, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. To her left, Bubbles hummed a cheerful melody of her own invention, her face a glazed mask of pleasant distraction as she glossed over the city with her bright blue eyes without any real attention to detail. To her right, Buttercup stared off into space with an impassive look. By now she had completely tuned out.

Routine patrols had become more of a formality these days. Crime and villainous activity had seen a dramatic decline over the passing years as Blossom and her sisters saw an exponential growth in their abilities with time and experience, enough to now make them a virtually unopposable force. Couple this with the Mayor's own initiative in recent years to boost the overall strength and efficiency of the city's own defense force, citing Townsville's need to take greater accountability for its prolific criminal population, there was very little left that required the intervention of an actual superhero. Most of the major supervillains had been permanently vanquished, either rotting in a jail cell or six feet in the ground. A few that still remained free had either fled the city altogether or gone underground. Others had simply retired. Were it not for the occasional monster attacks that still plagued the city in ever fewer numbers, the three heroes could have probably just retired outright, and the early warning system now in place meant those could be dealt with quickly and efficiently well outside the city limits. Those battles, if they could even be called such, rarely lasted more than a few seconds.

There were, of course, those few loose ends that still remained to occasionally disrupt the peace and security of their beloved city, loose ends that even Townsville's beefed up security task force was far from equipped to handle on its own. These were the main reason they kept up their daily vigil, as dull and monotonous as it had become. It was one of those loose ends that caught Blossom's attention now.

"Girls, heads up. There trouble brewing in front of the Townsville Arcade."

As one, Bubbles and Buttercup snapped to attention and turned their combined gazes streetwards. On a broad plaza just outside the aforementioned arcade a large crowd of children were gathered, with more still pouring out from inside the establishment even now. They formed a broad semicircle, arching out across the brick face of the building, creating an almost solid wall of bodies as they clustered together in a writhing frenzy. From the mass there rose a wild commotion of fear and excitement, shouting, shrieking, even cheering rising up to greet the ears of the three sisters. These were only spectators, though. The real action was happening at the center of their ranks.

The unfolding scene had all the makings of a beatdown about to take place. Three boys, arranged in a wide circle, took turns shoving a fourth between them, throwing a barrage of taunts and cackling with delight, their eyes filled with malice. The victim was older, a teenager, sixteen or so, tall and broad and solidly built. He had the overall look of a street punk out looking for trouble, with enough muscle to not have to think twice about it. The assailants were dwarfed by comparison. None was older than twelve, all three of them skinny and average in height, garbed in nondescript street clothes, wholly unremarkable at first glance. By appearances the three of them together could not have taken on the larger boy, yet the balance of power was clearly in their favor as they shoved him about as easily as an oversized plush toy. The absurdity of the sight might have seemed comical even, if the three of them weren't presently hovering a foot and a half above the ground.

Buttercup grinned in delight. "Alright! Finally, some action!"

Bubbles gave a mischievous smirk, far from her usual angelic veneer.

Blossom simply scowled. "You know the drill, girls. Let's keep this nice and clean."

On her lead, the three sisters arced down towards the street below, three bright comet streaks slashing through the blue sky. They hit the ground, feather soft, at the furthest edge of the semicircle. Their varicolored spectacle was impossible to miss, and the dazzled children, recognizing a dramatic turn of events unfolding before their eyes, parted as one, opening a direct path to the escalating quarrel within their ranks. A palpable excitement diffused through the whole of the crowd as dozens of eyes flicked back and forth between the new arrivals and the three troublemakers with thrilled expectation.

One of the three assailants, a boy with a mop of loose, golden curls and dark blue eyes, spotted them and shouted for the attention of his comrades before pointing them out. The next moment all three of them had touched back down to earth and were staring down the girls, wearing identical looks of scorn. In their distraction the older teen made a break for freedom, but in a flash the nearest boy, one with stiff, black hair shaped in a spiky updo and bold green eyes, seized the back of his shirt and, with unnatural ease, flung him back into the circle between them. The teen stumbled over himself, collapsed face down onto the ground and stayed there, whimpering pathetically.

"Get lost Powderpuffs. We're busy here." It was the third boy who spoke, fixing his crimson colored eyes on Blossom and scowling. He wore a red baseball cap cocked to one side over his mat of shoulder length auburn hair. His voice had a low, gravely quality that didn't fit his boyish appearance at all.

Blossom strode forward with measured steps, her sisters flanking her without missing a beat. "You boys just can't stay out of trouble, can you? Now what makes you think we're going to just turn our backs and walk away when you three are so clearly intent on beating this poor guy to a pulp?" Her face was cool, but her eyes were blazing.

"Oh believe me, he has it coming." The redhead shot a deadly look towards the prone teen before setting his eyes back on Blossom. "Not that it's any of your business."

"It becomes my business," Blossom said in a tone of rising threat, taking another slow step forward, "when you start threatening the safety and welfare of the good people of this city," another step forward, "my city." The distance between them continued to shrink as Blossom marched on. On her right, Buttercup was eyeing the raven-haired boy cooly, a calm smirk on her face. He met her with a dark, penetrating stare, his eyes cold as ice. On her left, Bubbles was grinning impishly at the blonde boy and gave him a flirtatious wave, fingers waggling delicately. Color immediately rose to his cheeks and he averted his eyes, looking very uncomfortable. To their credit, the three boys didn't budge an inch.

"Oh, so here come the mighty Powerpuff Girls to save the day like they always do." The redhead sniggered and turned back to his victim with a sneer. "You hear that pansy? Looks like you got yourself a couple of little girlies come to rescue you. I bet you feel like a real man now, don't you?" A chorus of chuckles rose up from the other two boys as they eyed their prey with amusement and disgust. The older boy made no response, not even daring to raise his head to the threat looming over him. But Blossom could see his eyes on her, desperate and pleading. He was a thug, a bully, no doubt about it. He had probably been harassing the kids here for ages, judging by their rabid enthusiasm at seeing him tormented before their eyes. It seemed today he had chosen the wrong kids to pick on. Still, that made him no less of a person.

"I'm only going to say this once."

Blossom's tone was finely honed menace, her glare enough to bore holes through solid titanium. She was closing in on the redhead now, only a few short steps remaining between them.

"Leave. Now!"

There were mere inches between them when she finally stopped, and she leaned her face in close to his until their noses nearly touched, her voice dropping low, for him alone.

"Or we'll make you."

Then she straightened herself, cocked her head to one side, and smiled at him sweetly.

By now the gathered spectators had all fallen dead silent. Nobody moved. No one hardly even breathed. All eyes were transfixed on the spectacle before them as three boys and three girls stood locked in a staring contest that threatened to shatter mountains and ignite wildfires and boil oceans all in one epic, world consuming apocalypse. The tension in the air was palpable. The shining reputation of the Powerpuff Girls had made them a household name throughout the whole of Townsville and beyond. There wasn't a soul among them who wasn't fully aware of what they were capable of, who hadn't seen them in action in some capacity, in person, on television, in one of countless social media broadcasts across the web. But the three boys standing at odds with the city's champion superheroes had their own reputation as well…a very dangerous one.

The face of the redhead colored a darker hue, his body stiffening as he balled his hands into tight fists at his sides. "You don't own this city," he said in a low growl. "We're not going to heel just because you said the word."

Blossom gave a nonchalant shrug and slid her gaze away from the redhead like he was no longer worth her attention, looking entirely unperturbed as she stared off at nothing in particular. "Oh well. I guess that means we'll just have to do things the hard way," her eyes then flicked back to his with renewed intensity, "won't we?"

At this Buttercup's eager smile broadened with a show of teeth. She stared down the raven-haired boy with unbridled enthusiasm, and he leered back at her with malicious intent. Bubbles simply made eyes at the blonde, batting her lashes and smiling coquettishly. He gagged dramatically in reply.

The redhead stood rooted in place, solid and immovable as a mountain as he stared Blossom down, his crimson eyes defiant. Then, all at once, his body relaxed and a broad smile split across his face. "BOYS!" His two companions stiffened at once, their looks intensifying as they moved into stances suggestive of imminent combat. "I think it's about time we showed these girls just what happens when you mess with the Rowdyruff Boys."

When he lunged at her she slipped to one side as casually as if it were an afterthought, and he missed her entirely. He realized his mistake too late as a sharp blow cracked against the back of his skull, robbing him of sight as an explosion of stars swam before his vision, accompanied by a splitting headache. He staggered dangerously forward, catching himself only with tremendous effort, then he whipped around to face her once more, just in time to see a fist sailing towards his face. It was a simple jab, meant to stun, not knock him off his feet. It was very effective, bringing tears to his eyes just as his vision was starting to recover, and he could no longer see where she was. The unavoidable combo that followed was far more brutal, turning his world into an incomprehensible dreamscape of light, sound and pain. He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back, groaning in fresh agony. When he opened his eyes she was leaning over him, looking very pleased with herself.

"Ready to give up now?"

Her voice was sugary sweet and all condescension. Brick ground his teeth as rage flared up within him anew, and promptly shoved himself to his feet, numbing himself to the pain and fatigue that weighed down his whole body. When he met her eyes he flashed her a defiant smile. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing weakness in him. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Pinky. You haven't seen nothing yet."

She tipped her head and blinked at him. "Oh? You've still got a few more parlor tricks up your sleeve? Well, okay then. Let's see them."

That made his blood boil.

"You wanna see a trick, do ya? I'll show you a trick."

With impossible speed he launched himself forward, the ground beneath his feet giving way with explosive force as heaps of asphalt vaporized into a clean mist behind him. The air in front of him compressed to diamond hardness, then ignited in a translucent sheet of plasma. He would hit her ages before it could make a sound. As he approached her within the prolonged span of his stretched frame of reference, she was frozen in time, still standing tall before him with arms folded across her chest in a high and mighty fashion, a haughty smirk stitched across her obnoxiously smug face. His fist bore the weight of the whole world behind it. He aimed it straight for that smirking face, ready to pound that self-satisfied expression straight out of existence.

There was a barely perceptible shift in her eyes, a small fluctuation like the subtle narrowing of a lens bringing a scene into crisp focus. She saw him coming. Good. Let her soak in every tiny little detail of her inevitable fate before he put her lights out for good. Then her lips transitioned into a broad grin of white, perfect teeth and her head tilted to one side with mocking affect. There was just enough time for his own confident grin to dissolve away as comprehension dawned just above the horizon of his thoughts in the intervening nothings of a second. It occurred to him too late that she wasn't the one frozen in time. He was.

The next thing he felt was his body striking pavement with bone rattling force, the breath hammered out of his lungs by a blow he never even saw. The ground deflected him back into the air and his own momentum carried him further still, until a solid vertical surface stopped him dead and he collapsed face-first onto the hard ground. It was several long, agonizing seconds before his lungs would allow him to draw in breath, and then he was sucking air into him in hoarse, ragged gasps. Only with surprising effort did he managed to push himself onto his hands and knees, gritting his teeth as his muscles throbbed in protest. When he opened his eyes his heart skipped a beat. Just in front of him stood a pair of shiny red boots, her boots.

"Ready to give up now?"

He was hitting her with everything he had. Each punch was a loaded freight train ramming her at full speed, yet she caught each and every one of them with barely a flinch, shrugging them all off like it was nothing. He was already pushing against the extreme fringes of his limits, pouring everything he had into landing one solid hit on her. She denied him every single time with stunning precision, her movements blending together in one fluid sequence that spilled out of her like expert choreography. She was hardly even trying.

The whole while she never stopped smiling. She was enjoying every second of their duel, her euphoria radiating off her like like heat, like sunlight. Occasionally she would break out into peals of bright laughter. It was a disorienting sound, clashing sharply with the sober determination with which he carried his end of the fight. For him, there was no room to indulge such petty feelings. They were merely a distraction. If he was going to win this fight, he needed to focus. Every thought, every impulse, needed to serve a purpose.

Butch willed himself to move faster, to hit harder, commanding his body to give him more, even as it screamed at him that it had nothing more in it to give. He striked with surgical precision, aiming only for the clear gaps in her defenses, aiming only for the places he knew would hurt her the most. She was always one step ahead of him, dodging, blocking, parrying everything he threw at her with such immaculate skill it bordered on art. The feel of her against him was constant, her body shifting lithely in concert with his own movements as if she weren't fighting so much as dancing with him, letting him lead while she intuitively followed in perfect rhythm, reading him with astonishing fluency. She had always preferred to keep close when fighting. She liked to read her opponents by touch.

In a sudden flourish of limbs, his arms were moving against his will. She was now guiding them where she saw fit with smooth, calculated flicks of her wrists. Before he could react to counter, her open palm hammered into his now unguarded chest, and then he was skidding backwards for several yards, all his effort now devoted towards simply keeping himself upright. It didn't hurt. It wasn't meant to, not physically anyway. It was her way of reminding him that she was in complete control. Again she laughed, a sound of pure pleasure, void of any condescension or spite. She was smiling at him fondly, as if they were a couple of good friends simply playing a game together. He did not share the sentiment.

He was panting now, his whole body trembling from exertion while his muscles ached with fatigue. As he stared down the raven-haired demon he was filled with a swirling cocktail of conflicting emotions: hatred, envy, respect, admiration. As breathless as he was at that moment, she didn't seem to be even the slightest bit tired. If anything, she seemed more invigorated than ever.

"Aww, what's the matter Butchie Boy? Don't tell me you're slowing down on me. I'm just getting warmed up."

She bounced from one foot to the other like a boxer, still bursting with abundant energy, grinning at him with limitless enthusiasm. Seeing the sheer weight of their disparity was enough to make him dizzy, and from deep within him he felt the emergence of something akin to fear. He stood no chance against her. In their sparring he had relentlessly probed her for any weakness there might be to exploit, yet he could never seem to find one, no matter that it was all his strength he was throwing at her. In the end not a single strike had hit its mark. Her defense was flawless. She was unbeatable.

No. Focus. Don't let her get to you.

He shut his eyes to the world, banishing the poisonous thoughts from existence as he forced his mind clear of all distractions. His breathing gradually slowed to a steady, even rhythm, and his fatigue softened as the burning in his muscles faded to a distant ache. When he opened his eyes again, it was with a renewed vigor, and he met the green eyed stare of his opponent with a restored sense of purpose. This fight was far from over. He was going to land one solid punch on her. He swore it.

She was behind him now. He knew it. But when he spun around to face her, he saw nothing but the deserted plaza. How she managed to disappear on him like that was beyond him. Since their fight began she had been smoothly evading his every attack, gliding in and out of his sight like smoke, slipping through his grasp like water. She had been in front of him only a second before, when he took a chance swing at her and she had vanished on him yet again. Every time she did that it made his hair stand on end. He never knew where she was going to appear next.

A high voice giggled with amusement to his immediate left. When he twisted towards the sound she was suddenly there, wearing a wide playful smile as her bright blue eyes beamed with mischief.

"Hi Cutie!"

Boomer flinched in alarm, his eyes going wide as he took a few automatic steps back. He quickly recovered himself and rearranged his features so he was glowering at her properly, posturing himself with as much threat as he could muster, though he still couldn't stop the heat rising to his cheeks.

"Don't call me that."

He lunged forward to take another swing at her. She ducked effortlessly beneath his arm. It was graceful movement, like a dancer gliding from one pose to another with all the flair of arch and poise. When they faced each other again she was pouting.

"Aww! Why not?"

"Just don't." He punctuated his words with a powerful jab at her face. She bowed to one side and twirled elegantly, sidestepping his attack completely. Next thing he knew she was leaning against him, tousling his hair playfully with an amorous look in her eyes.

"But you're just so adorable. I can't help myself."

Boomer recoiled in disgust, whipping away from her. "Stop that. We're supposed to be fighting, alright? So fight already." Again he lunged at her with another fierce jab. She melted away in a blur of movement, then she was gone again. He cried out in frustration.

"You're so cute when you're mad." Her voice was in his ear now, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. He didn't even bother to look this time, swinging blindly in her direction with all his might only to hit nothing at all. He only barely glimpsed the trailing ends of her long, golden pigtails disappearing from sight behind him, and he promptly reversed direction and threw a wild jab to his other side where he knew she had to be. Her lithe body twisted and flexed with the ease of a serpent as she bent around his fist and he connected with only thin air. Again she slipped out of sight, and he whipped around to try to spot her again.

He then felt her lips against his cheek, warm and soft and wet. As they withdrew he caught the lilting sound of her laughter floating past his ear. His heart stopped dead in his chest as the realization of what she had just done hit him full force, then he wailed in horror and was scrubbing furiously at his cheek, making hoarse gagging noises. When he had finally managed to shake off the horrible crawling sensations beneath his skin, he was staring her down with murderous intent. "Gross! What is wrong with you?"

She gave him a devilish grin. "Oh, you know you like it."

She was so going to pay for that. He launched another fist her way as hard as he could. She twirled around behind him and to the other side and kissed him again, this time on his other cheek. "Ew! Stop that." He lashed out at her once more with another punch. Not surprisingly she danced effortlessly out of his reach and then promptly kissed him yet again. "I said stop it." Now he was growing frantic. His strikes were losing all coordination as he resorted to wildly flailing at her, desperate just to keep her away from him, repulsed each time he felt her lips against his skin. Next thing he knew, she materialized in front of him, frighteningly close, her lips gently parted as they closed in on his own. He lurched backwards, nearly falling over himself as he scrambled to put a world of distance between them, his eyes wide with terror.

By now the fight had entirely deserted him. He had had enough of this. There was only one option left to him now. He turned tail and fled.

"Oh, you're not getting away from me that easily." In a streak of blue, she promptly bolted after him.

When Brick got back to his feet he swayed precariously, and he had to quickly adjust his stance to stop himself collapsing back onto the ground. Every part of him hurt with searing clarity. He was teetering on the edge of exhaustion, his muscles begging him to stop, but there was no way he would allow himself to back down, not while he had even the tiniest fraction of strength left in him to fight. He would never let Blossom have the satisfaction of seeing him surrender. He would sooner die.

For her part, Blossom seemed entirely unfazed by their long bout. In fact, she looked downright bored. She stood lazily a few feet away from him, calm and composed, arms crossed over her chest as she stared off at nothing in particular, not even bothering to face him directly. In spite of their trading blows for the past hour her clothing was immaculate, her long hair as silky and polished as when she first arrived, her skin still pristine and flawless. She could have just stepped out of a bath and you wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. He knew he was complete mess without even having to look down at himself. The taste of dirt was still fresh in his mouth. He could feel open air touching his skin through the countless gaps torn through his only set of clothes.

Blossom glanced in his direction, and for a brief instant she looked surprised to see him, as if she had completely forgotten he was there and was only just now remembering his presence. The look quickly faded, and she was bored once more. "Are we done here? I've got better things to do than babysit a couple of washed up street punks."

It stung, no matter how badly Brick wished it hadn't. Blossom, Townsville's shining beacon, their glorious savior, their perfect angel, propped up on a pedestal so high it was a wonder she could even breathe. He hated how much stronger she was than him, hated the utter futility of trying stand against her and her sisters, but worst of all he hated how she could hurt him without even needing to lay a finger on him. Against his will he felt his resolve beginning to crumble as a cold feeling of despair burrowed its way into his chest, constricting his insides in sharp, icy tendrils. What was he by comparison, a reject, a throwaway, a mere stain on the city's otherwise pristine image.

Blossom, the venomous snake, the poisoned spear, the baneful harpy.

Then there was anger, a withered spark at first, then all at once it filled him, surging up from the blazing pit of rage that boiled ceaselessly in the deepest caverns of his being, a rage bloated by a lifetime of rejection, of exploitation, of abandonment, of disappointment. He let it flood through him, permeate him, drown him, until his heart pounded like a sledge in his chest and lungs shuddered with each heaving breath. The throbbing in his muscles faded a distant pulse, and he no longer needed to struggle to stand.

"It's over when I say it's over."

It came out as a low hiss, but there was no doubt she heard him clear as if he had shouted. She didn't smile this time, only breathed a sharp, weary sigh and shook her head with solemn resignation.

"Fine. Have it your way."

She turned to face him then, dropping her arms so they hung loosely at her sides, and she spread her hands in open invitation, her body completely relaxed. The bored expression never left her face; her eyes lined up with his own, yet they remained entirely detached. She wasn't even taking him the least bit seriously.

It was the final insult.

This time he was going to hurt her. Badly. That was a promise. Brick summoned all of his strength, throwing open the floodgates of his power so that it filled him completely, until it was bursting through the pores of his skin in rippling waves of pure force that flexed the light around him like scalding curtains of heat. The air around him hissed and popped in angry protest as it seared against the onslaught of raw power. Filmy vapors plumed skyward from the ground at his feet as, layer by layer, the earth was stripped away in a fine, oily mist.

Blossom was now very alert, her body tensing as her eyes widened in alarm. "Hey...just what do you think you're doing?"

Brick simply grinned in answer. He'd rather let his actions do the speaking for him. By the force of his will, the translucent waves of power began to drift purposefully in one common direction, funneling towards a single point in space just in front of him, gathering, coalescing, compressing, until, under the enormous strain, it surpassed even the fantastic properties of duranium in its hardness. When it could compress no longer, it expanded, growing rapidly in size until it was a large translucent sphere bigger than his own head.

The look on Blossom's face changed again to horror. She thrust a hand out in front of her as in warding, her voice pitched in desperation. "Wait! Stop!"

There was no way she was dodging this one. She wouldn't dare let a single scratch befall her precious city; she would never tolerate the stain to her perfect reputation. The sphere before him was pure destructive force. It would obliterate anything in its path without question. Not even a Powerpuff could endure such a blast. He prepared himself to let it fly, coiling a spring of force behind it, ready to launch his payload and send Blossom into a world of agony. He reveled in the thought of just how much this was going to hurt. All he had to do was simply let go. There was nothing she could do to stop him.

The next thing he knew, he felt something slam into him from behind. Brick lurched forward, nearly knocked off his feet from the collision, and for one horrifying instant he lost his focus, and then everything came undone. The spring uncoiled without his consent. Brick was no longer lined up with his target, and as the ball of force launched forward at several times the speed of sound, it was clear by its trajectory that it would never hit its mark. The air gave way with a thunderclap as the ball shrieked past blossom by a wide berth, the trailing vortex whipping her hair into a wild frenzy. She still had her hand raised uselessly in front of her, her mouth agape in wordless shock. The following instant there came an earth-shaking explosion, a raw concussion that sent fissures racing through the ground in all directions and shattered every window for miles out.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even the ambient noises of normal city life had ground to a screeching halt, leaving the world in complete quiet.