Chapter 2

Present Day

Golden light filtered though the bedroom window, attacking the eyes of a young redhead. Silence filled the room with the exception to the muted chirping of songbirds outside. With barely open eyes, he sat up and firmly slapped his cheeks with his hands to force himself awake. On a lazy summer weekend like this, he would normally pull his pillow over his head and sleep for another hour, but not today. Today is a special day.

He slipped out of his bed and jumped into his fuzzy red slippers. He knew he had a pretty good internal clock, but what time was it really? While yawning and stretching, he looked at the digital clock on the wall opposite of his bed.

6:55. Is that the right time? His sleep addled brain struggled to grasp the situation he was in. It's 6:55. I'm late. Gradually, panic set in as he found himself zipping himself to the bathroom. His long red hair was disheveled but he wasn't concerned about that. He opted to simply brush his teeth and wash his face before zipping by his brothers' rooms and throwing himself at the curved staircase downstairs.

The delicious smell of breakfast cooking wafted into his nostrils while he slid down the banister. Ms. Keane was already standing before the stove with a spatula in hand. Though still in her night gown, she was alert as ever. The delicious aroma of egg and cinnamon already began to cover the scent of her early morning coffee. "Good morning, Brick. You're up quite early," she said without even turning her head to see him. How Ms. Keane was able to identify Brick so easily remained a mystery to him but he had no time to ponder it.

"Hi, mom," Brick returned, rather hurriedly. "No time to talk, gotta go!" A streak of red light bounced around the kitchen until Brick ended up sitting at the kitchen table, milk and sugary cereal ready to be poured into the bowl before him. Before a single grain of cereal could hit the bowl, the box was plucked from his hands.

Ms. Keane stood behind him, eyes furrowed as she took a chiding tone. She inspected the box's contents with a knowing eye. "Brick, I don't know why you're wasting your allowance on this cereal. This has next to no nutritional value and is certainly not conducive to the growth of a healthy young mind. Can't you just wait until I'm finished cooking?"

Brick groaned and slumped in his chair. "Mom," he whined, "I don't have any time. I've got something to do. This is super important!"

Ms. Keane put her hands on her hips, shooting Brick a skeptical stare. "How important?"

"Really important! Literally life or death important!"

Ms. Keane raised an eyebrow. "Literally?"

"Literally!" Brick nearly forgot that he was talking to a teacher; a very smart teacher at that. "Okay. Maybe it's not 'life or death' important but this is really important to me, mom."

Ms. Keane tilted her head to one side. Brick knew that as the classic 'is that so?' look. "And what is this important appointment you have to meet?"

Brick scratched the back of his head as he sheepishly looked away. "A new episode of a TV show..." he mumbled.

Ms. Keane shot and incredulous look at the young boy. "You know I'm not a big fan of you boys watching TV before we gather for breakfast."

"I know, but I thought that's just for school days! And I'll be at the table when the others come down." He floated into the air so that he was eye-level with her. "Please, mom. Don't make me beg."

A long silence followed. Ms. Keane stared at him as if reading his soul through his red eyes. "Did you do your homework?"

"Yup, all of it."

"Did you help old man Jeb with his yard work?"

"Finished yesterday."

"And your room?"

"Clean. Clothes are in the laundry room and you can eat off of the floor."

Another moment of silence followed. Brick could almost see the cogs rotating in Ms. Keane's head. while her dark brows furrowed in thought. Thankfully, her demeanor softened and she sighed. "Fine… but you're still not eating this junk," she said. She twirled on her heel, black hair flowing behind her like the hem of a dress.

"If you're hungry, at least have this." After setting down the box, she reached into one of the many hickory cabinets and pulled out a plate in which she slapped a piece of French toast onto. "This should hold you over until the breakfast is all ready." She finished off by dropping two strawberries onto it and handing it to Brick. "Go on, catch up with your show. But when the boys come down, I expect you to eat at the table with us."

Brick beamed, happily taking the plate. "Awesome! Thanks mom!" he exclaimed, dashing off onto the living room before Ms. Keane even had the chance to reply. He vaulted over the couch and landed before the television cross-legged, plate of French toast in one hand and television remote in the other.

It was 7:00. Just in time. He flicked on the television just as the opening theme for his favourite show, Legendary Fist, stared playing. The fast paced rock theme was catchy and although in Japanese, Brick knew every single word. He'd sing along if his mouth wasn't stuffed with French toast at the moment.

The episode opens with the snappily dressed protagonist, Kentaro standing on top of a building, cool and collected. His rival, Shingo, stands with a cocky smile, he and his henchmen encircling Kentaro.

The tall, stoic protagonist points at his enemy. His deep, commanding voice crudely syncs with his mouth flapping as he speaks: "Last chance. Release the family you are holding hostage and you may leave in peace."

The scene cuts to a husband, wife and child huddling together while three mobsters stand over them with various weapons at the ready. Then cuts to Shingo laughing maniacally. His mouth flaps in a similar way while he speaks with a sharp voice: "You are in no place to make demands, Kentaro. You are outclassed and outnumbered. Now die!"

Kentaro takes a fighting stance. The symbol of a dragon glows on his back through his white blazer and buttoned down dress-shirt.

"Underestimating your opponents will be your downfall. But if you want the blood of your men on your hands, then so be it!"

"Oh, now you've done it," Brick said to the television before he popped a strawberry into his mouth. He was completely enthralled by the story. At first, he just watched for the action and all of the wanton destruction this man is capable of causing. But in the end, he found that he took this much interest in Kentaro since he could relate to the character.

Kentaro was an orphan from an early age, born with special powers a mob boss then took him in and used his abilities to gain power. Kentaro, eventually knowing that he was just being used, then had to walk his own way and do what he thought was right.

While Brick couldn't fully understand why Kentaro did some of the things he did, he couldn't deny that he just looks so cool while doing it.

The episode ends with the now shirtless hero calmly walking away from a flaming skyscraper in mid-explosion while the family he saved stands among paramedics. The end credits roll and left Brick bouncing in place, grinning from ear to ear at such an amazing episode.

He was Kentaro's biggest fan.

Another episode of Legendary Fist was scheduled to air next. Although it was an episode that Brick has seen before, he couldn't get enough. He settled down, anticipating the next episode while he waited through the commercials.

The channel suddenly changed. Blinking in confusion, Brick looked over is shoulder to see Butch, still dressed in his green jersey and house shorts. He laid on the couch with the remote in hand.

Brick whirled around to meet his brunette brother's eyes and glowered at him. "Butch! I'm not done. Give that back!"

Butch yawned while he laid on his side atop the sofa. "You've been hogging the TV all day. It's my turn," he said, his voice slightly hoarse as a result of his recent slumber. He yawned again, only to find that the remote had disappeared form his hand and appeared in Brick's. "Hey! Give that back! I want to watch wrestling! Nobody cares about your stupid Japanese cartoons."

Boomer slowly floated in, also still in his pajamas. His blue eyes were fixated on a handheld game but he added to the argument as if fully aware. "I think it's called anime."

"No, idiots. It's manime" Brick made a gesture with his hands as if plastering the word to an invisible wall. "And it's not stupid. It's a story where a bunch of buff dudes punch each other until they explode!"

"Yeah. Cool. Now give me the remote." Butch reached for the remote but was halted by a firm hand against his chest.

"No," Brick snapped back, keeping the remote away from his brunette brother.

"The Fall Brawl is starting is starting today and I don't want to miss it!" Butch smacked Brick's hand away and attempted to grab at the remote but Brick was just a little too quick.

"Then go stream it on your computer or something! Leave me alone!" The two started to wrestle for control of the remote.

"Why don't you stream your show!?"

"Because I was here first!"

"Give it!"

"NO!"

Boomer took a moment form his game to glance at his two quarreling brothers and used the opportunity to find his perch on the sofa.

The fighting abruptly stopped when Butch suddenly twisted around and headed for the kitchen. "Ms. Keane! MS. KEANE! Brick is being a butt!"

Ms. Keane's voice bellowed from the kitchen: "Boys! Come here!"

The three preteens filed into the kitchen and lined up before Ms. Keane. "What's all this commotion about?" she asked.

"Brick is hogging the T.V!" Butch complained. "He's been watching it all day!"

Brick threw his hands out at the ridiculous statement. "All day? Dude, it's 7:30. I've only watched it for half an hour."

"Technically, if you spent the majority of the morning watching T.V. up to this point, Butch's statement is kind of accurate," Boomer interjected.

Brick shot a glare at his blonde brother. "Shut up, Boomer. You're not helping."

"Don't call me an idiot then," Boomer muttered under his breath.

Butch continued with his complaint. "The Fall Brawl is having its opening match today and I want to watch it!"

"See mom? He wants to watch some fake wrestling trash but you know I was there first!"

"Boys, boys!" The mother cut in with a calm but authoritative hand gesture, "Calm down. Listen, I need some help preparing the table for breakfast, so Brick, why don't you let Butch watch the tele and help me?"

Brick's jaw looked about ready to drop while he froze in the middle of his angry gesturing. "What!? Mom! That's not fair!"

"Give him the remote, Brick." Her voice was gentle yet firm. He knew that she had made up her mind.

Brick sighed and pushed the remote into Butch's chest. "Fine."

Finally getting his way, Butch grinned and stuck his tongue out at his red-headed brother. The annoyed Brick reacted with a kick at Butch but the brunette preteen deftly sidestepped his foot and ran back into the living room followed by Boomer.

Whirling around, Brick pouted and folded his arms. "Why did you let him get away with that? I thought you trusted me!"

Almost as if her adopted son said nothing, Ms. Keane patted down the giant cowlick sitting on top of Brick's head and muttered. "Goodness Brick, your hair is a mess." She pulled out a chair and sat down, producing a hairbrush. It was her own brush, recently used for her beautifully tidy black hair. "Come on, we'll talk while I fix that hair of yours," she said while motioning for him to approach.

With arms still crossed, Brick reluctantly obeyed. He leaned back against her as she started to brush his hair. Ms. Keane was gentle with her brush strokes, taking great care not to tug too hard at any strands that may be tangled. It was almost soothing to the frustrated boy. Her expert ministrations to his head gently coaxed the strands of hair straight. "Brick, it's not that I don't trust you. On the contrary, I trust you the most to understand an important lesson."

"What lesson?" Butch questioned with a shrug, "That everything sucks and the whole world is against me?"

"No, brick. Think about this: What is the difference between a leader and a dictator?"

The question she posed made Brick cock his brow in confusion. That seemed to come out of nowhere. "Isn't a dictator just-?"

"You don't have to answer that now," Ms. Keane gently interrupted, "Just keep thinking about that question and when you figure it out, it will all make sense. Now, help me set up the table."

Brick did as he was asked, letting his annoyance at Butch fade while mulled over his adopted mother's words. He knew the answer to the question – at least he thought he did, but what did it have to do with this so-called 'lesson' mom's going on about?

Ms. Keane is the queen of tough love. But it was love nonetheless. If anybody knew how to handle a trio of super-powered children, it was her.

That was why Brick eventually grew to respect her, love her, even. That was why he trusted her words.

At last, the table was set and the food was prepared, prompting Ms. Keane to call for the other two boys. As she and Brick took their seats, Butch strode in dragging Boomer along in a headlock. He raised his free hand, waving to an invisible crowd while Boomer struggled against him.

"El Toro has got the Rattler in a headlock! He's absolutely dominating the ring!" Brick announced in third person.

At the sight of the two, Ms. Keane waggled a finger at Butch. "What did I tell you about rough-housing in the house?"

Proving his surrender, Butch threw up his hands, releasing Boomer from his iron grip. He and the coughing Boomer took their seats. "OK, OK. Sorry. We didn't break anything, though." Butch stated in a defensive tone.

"Good," Ms. Keane nodded curtly. "Then I won't have to punish you. But I don't want you pulling any of your stunts in the house. I know what kind of mess you boys are capable of." She shared out some bacon and fruits to the plates of french toast. Brick immediately plucked one from his plate and popped it in his mouth.

At that, Butch rolled his eyes. "If we can't rough-house in the house, then what's the point of it being called rough-housing?"

Brick paused from his meal, a strip of bacon halfway in his mouth. He shot Butch a look as if saying 'that's the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth' with just his eyes.

Butch looked back at Brick blankly, obviously not getting the message. "What?"

"Come on, kids, eat up before the food gets cold," Ms. Keane said, sitting back down. Very soon, the kitchen was filled with the sound of knife and fork against plate while the family enjoyed their breakfast.

"So boys?" Ms. Keane asked while cutting up a slice of French toast, "Are you excited for your first day in a real school tomorrow?"

Silence immediately followed. The boys quietly exchanged glances at each other and then their adopted mother. Up until this point, they have all been home schooled. None of them have a good reputation in Townsville which made it difficult to attend any school at all. The reason they eventually got admitted into Midway Middle School was because the Powerpuff Girls will also be attending. Nobody trusted them. Everybody feared them. And perhaps to some extent, the Powerpuff Girls feared them too.

"Yeah… about that," Boomer piped up hesitantly. "I don't think we're welcome there."

"Nonsense," chirped Ms. Keane, "I personally vouched for you. I told them how your behavior changed over the years and what responsible young men you are now. Your initiave to help clean up Townsville is all the proof that they need. The teachers shouldn't be giving you any problems."

"What about the other kids?" asked Boomer.

Ms. Keane replied, "What about them?"

Another wave of silence overcame the four at the table.

"As if we'd ever care about what other kids think," retorted Brick, breaking the silence. He sat back in his chair with a smirk. "If they don't like us then tough cookies!"

The other boys didn't look so assured. Brick inwardly worried that his feigned bravado was too little, too late. His hesitation before he put up the act said it all. The truth was that he did care to some degree. Being home schooled and deemed menaces to the city, he had very little in terms of friends. It wasn't that he was tired of Butch, Boomer or even Ms. Keane, but it would be nice to develop some kind of a social life outside of his family. As much as he wish it never bothered him, the isolation left him feeling somewhat lonely at times.

Clearing his throat to end the second wave of awkward silence, Brick got up, excusing himself from the table. "See ya, mom. I'm off."

"Where are you going?" Ms. Keane asked.

"To enjoy my last day of freedom," he replied before putting away his dishes and going upstairs to change.

Boomer followed suit. "Maybe we can get some ice cream. Wishful thinking?" he pondered.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Butch added. He then glanced at Ms. Keane. Ms. Keane's piercing blue eyes flicked in his direction, prompting him to look away and then wordlessly leave the table before she could utter a word.

As she watched Butch leave, Ms. Keane took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. The boy was a complete enigma to her. Brick was headstrong and a bit stubborn at first, but he couldn't hide the natural need for a parental figure and eventually developed a strong bond with her. Boomer, although the quieter of the three, was fairly easy to handle since he was the type that could warm up to just about anybody given enough time and attention.

Butch, on the other hand, was tough to get through. Perhaps it was pride, or maybe he was trying to hold onto the child he once was. Either way, he seemed to just tolerate her and nothing more. He even opted to call her 'Ms. Keane' instead of 'mom' like the others. Not that it was a big issue; It was merely a pleasant surprise for Brick to suddenly call her 'mom' one day and Boomer quickly took after him.

Still, Butch seemed to make a point of it.

In any case, she was determined not to give up on any of the Rowdyruff Boys.

The Rowdyruff Boys left the house together ready to enjoy their last official day of summer in any way they can. Although the sky was bright and cloudless, a frigid breeze threatened the change of a season and the trees were already prepared with reddening of their leaves. Brick walked along their neighborhood sidewalk, one hand casually stuffed in the pocket of his red Letterman jacket and the other wrapped clutching his phone as his thumb lazily flicked through messages. Boomer walked alongside him, both of his hands shoved into his bright blue gilet coat. Butch took flight on Brick's other side. A faint green afterimage trailed behind him as he floated at pace with the other two.

Brick, still looking at his phone, said suddenly, "Butch, would you stop?"

"Stop what?" Butch replied ignorantly.

Brick shoved his phone back into his jacket and side-glanced his brother. "You don't see the rest of us walking?"

Butch didn't seem the least bit concerned. "Yeah. So?"

"Dude, you've got legs. Why don't you use them once in a while before they atrophy?" Brick suggested in a sarcastic tone.

"Atro-what-now?"

Brick blew out a hard, loud sigh and pulled out his phone again. "Never mind."

Butch looked at Boomer who answered on cue, "It has something to do with your muscles getting small and weak."

"I said never mind, Boomer," Brick intoned while his eyes fixated on his phone.

"What are you getting so hissy for?" Butch prodded.

Brick held up two fingers to count the reasons. "One, because people will recognize us more easily if you start using our powers in public. And two, because mom said so."

At that, Butch scowled and pursed his lips. "What are you? A mama's boy now?" He reached out and flicked at the lid of Brick's baseball cap.

Brick immediately clutched his cap protectively against his head. "DON'T touch my hat!" he sneered. His lucky cherry red baseball cap was his trademark and his good luck charm. He never left home without it.

"Just listen to him, Butch," Boomer pleaded, "What if an ice cream truck comes by and refuses us service because you were seen flying?"

"We just take it." Said Butch.

"You mean steal it. And then mom finds out and we all get in trouble. Good plan," answered Brick, his words oozing with sarcasm.

Butch made a show of rolling his eyes and folding his arms, but complied anyway. "Fine, but we'd better get ice cream." He looked at Brickh and shook his head slowly. "You've changed, Brick."

"Yeah. It's called growing up." Brick flashed a patronizing smirk and patted Butch's shoulder. "You should try it sometime."

At Brick's retort, Boomer looked at Butch and smiled a little.

"Shut up," Butch said.

"Huh?" peeped Boomer, "I didn't say anything."

Butch just scowled even harder. "You were thinking it. Shut up."

The boys' journey led them to a pond in the woods near their home, as per usual. It was a quiet and secluded spot that they claimed as their own. They were free to use their powers here without other suspicious eyes upon them. Trees canopied the surrounding with a thick brush of reddening leaves but sunlight shimmered off of the pond, providing plenty of light. Several trees and large rocks were marred with scorch marks and large gashes as a result of multiple games of ninja played here. A well used fire pit sat in the middle of a crude circle of logs and rocks where several candy wrappers were grouped into a half-charred pile.

After horsing around in their self-made campsite for a while, the boys decided to send Boomer out to get ice cream since they deemed him the cutest of the three (much to Boomer's distaste) and least likely to get rejected by the ice cream man.

Now wearing a scarf, Brick drilled a hole into the log next to where he sat with his heat vision and stuck his mint ice cream cone into the newly formed cup holder. He floated before an old gnarled oak tree while pulling the red scarf over the lower half of his face. "Hey, Boomer, check this out," he called to the little blonde that was busy with a handheld video game. He paused the game and looked up at his copper haired brother.

The air cooled around them until he fanned out a series of knife-like icicles in his right hand. "Frozen kunai attack!"

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

With a lightning quick flick of his wrists, the frozen projectiles found their mark and embedded themselves into the poor tree. The tree crackled sharply while the area around the impact zone began to freeze and crystalize.

Boomer expressed his mild surprise with an intoned "Wow, where did you learn to do that?"

Brick struck a pose, fashioning himself as what he'd thought to be ninja-like. "I've learned this ancient technique form Master Koriryu where we trained from the highest mountains. Only the most dedicated of ninjas of his clan can learn this technique!"

"No, I mean, for real," Boomer corrected.

Brick's composure broke a little. "Oh. Erm, you know. Took some inspiration from your moves. A little of this, a little of that, mixed with my own genius, of course," he crowed.

Boomer crossed his legs and went back to his game. "Oh. Yeah, that's pretty cool, I guess."

"Pfft, pretty cool?" Brick scoffed, pulling off his scarf. "What are you, a critic now? There's more where that came from!" He glanced at his lonely, melting ice cream and levitated it back into his hand. With a breath he flash-froze it before it could start dripping. "But first, I'm finishing my ice cream," he said before chomping down on it.

Meanwhile, Butch was off a little ways from the campsite, idly licking his own cone of ice cream while crouched over a trail of hard working ants, going back and forth from their ant hill to their pilgrimage for food. A sadistic smile slowly crept on Butch's face and his eyes began to glow.

"Hey, Butch. You're not lighting ants on fire, are you?" Brick called from the camp.

The glow suddenly disappeared and he shot up, whirling around to face his brother with such force that the green hood on his sweatshirt whipped off from his head. "What? Of course not! What kind of sick freak would do that?" he lied, blushing as he walked over to their site.

It was strange. It was almost as if Brick had a sixth sense for any creature in danger. "Uh-huh. Sure," Brick replied, taking another lap at his ice cream. "Anyway. Got any cool techniques you've been working on?"

"Yeah, of course," Butch said proudly. He finished off his ice cream and dusted his hands off. "I just need a volunteer to use it on." His green eyes landed onto Boomer. "Hey. Boomer. Get up."

Suddenly realizing his intent, Boomer's eyes widened and he slunk back until his back hit a tree. "Nuh-uh! No way!" He held his hands out to protect himself. "I've learned from last time!"

Butch rolled his eyes. "Pfffft. Wimp."

Brick rubbed his chin. "On second thought, we should take it easy since we've got school tomorrow," he said.

At the mention of school, Butch's smile faded and his features hardened.

Brick raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're scared of a little school!"

"No, it's not that," Butch responded, "It's… The Powerpuff Girls are going to be there. What are we going to do when we see them?"

Brick shook his head. "Who cares? We're there to learn stuff just like everybody else. They can't do anything to us. Besides, it's literally been years since they've last seen us. They probably won't even recognize us."

Butch looked over to the pond, his fists balled up tight. "But don't you hate them? They humiliated us. They even killed us! Doesn't that make you angry?"

Brick blinked a few times, a little taken aback. "Well, yeah, I guess. But-"

"This is our chance," Butch turned around on his heel to face Brick. "We can get back at them! We're stronger than we ever were before!"

"Dude, hold on a second," Brick interrupted. "First of all, we've grown up but so have they. We don't fully know how they're like now. Don't just pick fights with what you don't know. Secondly-"

"That's right!" Butch pounded a fist into his open hand like a hammer into a nail. "We'll scope them out, figure out how strong they are and then find the right moment to destroy them!"

Brick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh. That- that's not what I meant," he groaned. "You know what? We'll discuss this later, Butch." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket looked up into the darkening sky. "It's getting late. Let's just go home. We've got a big day tomorrow."

At that, the Rowdyruff Boys headed home, all with the following day weighing on their minds.