No, I don't own any rights to these three characters, or their supporting staff. I'm just writing a story based on their adventures in an alternate future.

The PowerPuff Girls--New Generation

By LJ58

Part 2:

"Wooooooo-hooooooooo," Blossom heard echo across the sky over her head as she and Sara left the office they maintained, heading toward Ms. Bellum's car.

Overhead, a streak of color told her exactly what was going on.

"Buttercup seems happy," the redheaded younger woman told Sara as she watched her sibling streak across the sky, and vanish over the horizon.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but a happy Buttercup isn't necessarily always a good thing," Sara stated solemnly as they climbed into the sporty, red coupe she favored.

"I can't say, Sara," Blossom sighed. "Of us all, I think she took the professor's death the hardest. You saw her last week. I don't think she's over it even now.

"And after I found her in his lab three days ago, reviewing his theorems. I used to think I was the only one that got any of the professor's brains, but…..she was doing equations that had my head spinning as easily as Bubbles speaks to animals."

"Maybe all that time on her own simply gave her a chance to find out she had other gifts beside her fists," Sara suggested as she started the car.

"Well, I wish we could figure out just what Buckhannon is up to now. He's obviously using parts of the professor's equations, but he has the earlier, uncorrected formulae that Buttercup surpassed days ago."

"Which means, if she is right, then Harold is going to create an even bigger explosion than the one that killed your father if he tries acting on the work he has to date," Sara nodded, rehashing the conversation they had attacked from various angles since they took on the admittedly personal case.

"Right. Only I can't seem to find a way to prove it.

"He's gotten good at passing himself off as a legitimate researcher, and that Mr. Owens is so dense I don't think he realizes his new researcher is probably about to level his entire facility at the very least."

"Maybe Buttercup found something that will help us," Sara remarked as they headed toward the remote suburbs where the house was still standing as pristine as it had been the day they had first realized they had been created by their father, and fell in love with their new home, as they had their new father.

The fact the rest of the area was falling apart didn't touch them. Their immediate neighborhood remained a quiet, friendly area with nice families. Even the thugs and pushers wouldn't risk the area where known super-powered heroines hung out. Former heroines, actually, but even Mayor Taylor's edicts couldn't stop them from defending their own home. A fact they had proven often enough to keep their neighborhood safe enough that children still played on the streets after school.

"So, I wonder what got her so hyped up. We've certainly not found anything to crow about," Blossom grimaced as they drove through town, often slowed all the more by traffic even as Blossom couldn't help but think she could have crossed the distance in less than a heartbeat if she just let herself….

She shook her head again. She had not used her powers like that in almost six years. To see Buttercup…..Betty, flying like that had made her a little homesick for those old days. But the old days were gone, and things were a lot more complicated.

Still, finally, they reached the house, and she turned after climbing out of the car, asking, "You going to come in," she asked with a smile.

"No," the older woman told her. "I've got a few more things to iron out that might help us yet. I'll catch up to you later."

"Oh, well, all right," Blossom sighed, and turned toward the house that almost seemed like a home again now that Betty, or whatever she called herself, was back again.

"Blossom," Bubbles pulled the door open as she reached for the knob, her key out.

"You're home early."

"You're never going to believe it," Bubbles screeched at her.

She had heard that from Bubbles so many times, about so many inane things, she barely paid her any attention.

Until she walked into the house past the excited blonde, and stared into the rugged, if somewhat pale features of a very familiar face.

"P-P-Professor," she gasped, standing and staring at him as if she doubted her own sanity.

"Hello, Blossom," the familiar smile stretched across that plain, but friendly face. A face framed by shaggy, graying hair. But it was him. It was her father.

"How? We thought you….?" "My null-field generator exploded when Harry attacked me," he told her as Bubbles shut the door behind her, and joined them, seeming to be vibrating with sheer delight, and exuberance.

"Harry…..attacked you?" "Yes," he nodded. "Somehow, the prototype I was still working on was hit, and activated. I got hit by a full charge, and….well, it shrank me so small I was literally shrunk down into another dimension. It took some doing, but I managed to survive using my wits, and…..

"And then one day I was suddenly standing back in my own lab, and Buttercup was holding my prototype she had repaired, and made even better than my original design. You can't imagine how proud I am you girls stuck together, and made a home for yourself," he said, hugging her as she simply went to him, and held out her arms.

"Didn't Betty tell you about what's been going on," she asked.

"Betty," he frowned.

"It's what Buttercup calls herself now. She only just came home, professor," she told him. "To be honest, we…..had a fight six years ago, and she…..left."

"Six years? She didn't mention that. Only that Harry was up to his old tricks, and trying to use my quantum theories for his own gain."

"We need to talk," she sighed as she stepped back to stare up at him again. "I'm just surprised she didn't stay around to tell you about how things have been herself."

"Well, I told her to fly to the capitol and file the patents for me in our joint names before Harry could try anything with his stolen notes," he told her honestly.

"I just got finished shaving, and cleaning up," he said, smoothing a lab coat over his thinner, but more muscular body that made him look much the same as he had all those years ago. "I just need a haircut, and I'll feel really human again," he smiled ruefully.

"Let me do that for you," she suggested, and led him to the kitchen.

"That'd be great," he nodded as Bubbles followed them, asking, "So what kind of animals do they have in that other dimension?" The professor sobered as he looked at her, and said, "Not animals like we have," he said. "Just….creatures, really. The kind that all want to eat you. I can't believe I was gone so long. It felt like an eternity, but six years….."

"Actually, it was closer to eight years for you, professor," Blossom told him.

"Eight years," he rasped as she led him to a seat, and went to find scissors to trim his hair, and fill him in on how their world had changed.

He sat quietly the entire time, astonished, saddened, but still grateful his girls had come back together in the end on their own. They belonged together after all. They always had. Each of them were smart, and powerful in their own right, but it was when they came together that they could do miracles. He had always known it. He also knew they just needed to realize that for themselves.

PPG

Betty wanted to laugh at the expression on the patent clerk's face when she flew in through the window, and set the small box on his desk. Even that expression didn't match the one the middle-aged man bore when she told him she was here on behalf of her father, Professor Utonium.

He had told her to go directly to Andrew Wilson, who usually handled his affairs when he once visited the patent office.

Wasting no time, she quickly laid out the discovery her father had made, and her role in it, offering him the folder with the complete process, and blueprints of the quantum generator she had revised as well.

"I'll need to see a working prototype," he said quietly as he absorbed her tale. "And….I'll need to speak to….him."

"Call him anytime you like. As to the prototype," she smiled, and pulled out the gun-like device from the box. "Allow me to demonstrate."

An instant later, after a shrill pop of sound and light, the large file cabinet across the room shrank down to the size of a toy more fit for a dollhouse than a professional office. She grinned as the man's eyes bulged, and she reset the device, and restored the cabinet.

"Of course, if you're not careful, like that hack Buckhannon, you could end up blowing something up, like half the world. If you don't just shrink something so small it drops into another dimension."

"I see. Well, ah, Ms. Flowers," he called her after a moment of studying her. "If you'll just sign these forms, I'll get these patents filed for you and your father right away," he told her.

"You want me to sign blank forms," Betty demanded as she scowled at the empty papers before her.

"No. I mean, well….it's the way Professor Utonium always did business. It's….I mean…..I would never cheat you. Or him.

"I just thought, you'd like to leave, and that you….."

"Fine," she smiled, signing the papers she had already been told would be offered since the professor had explained how he often did business with Andrew. "Just remember, I'm the one with the bad temper. You wouldn't like what I might do to you if you crossed us on this."

"I….I would never," he started to protest. He didn't have the chance to finish. She had vanished in a blur of speed right back out through his open window.

Andrew shook his head as he stared at the neat binder of equations and the blueprints resting atop it. He looked over at his filing cabinet, and swallowed hard. He knew all about the professor's kids, of course. The process he had used to create them was one of the most carefully guarded secrets in the patent office. That one had been buried deep by the government. He had little doubt this was one to be buried, too, judging by the girl's story.

Still, to see one of those girls close-up, and all grown up.

She was…..

"Wow," he murmured gruffly, grateful the desk had been between him and her. She didn't seem like the type to be flattered by his helpless reaction to her.

The fact is, she seemed more like the type to rip his lungs out.

He couldn't help that his hand shook a little as he reached for his phone to call the professor, and welcome him back. Because he didn't doubt the green-eyed woman's story one bit. The fact she had flown in through his window gave her a lot of credibility. Especially since his window was on the forty-third floor.

PPG

James was scowling at the reports he was trying to decipher the latest offering from the lab secretary. If anything, it was just a poor rehashing of things he had already seen before over the past few months. He had taken a big chance on Harold, and just when he thought things were going to pay off, the man was letting him down. Badly.

Worse, ever since Betty had left, most of the transcription sent up by her replacement was poorly done at best. Case in point, he thought as he studied the marred typing that looked as if the woman had tried to correct it by erasing the type, and then penning it back in by hand. A very sloppy hand. Didn't the woman know what a word processor was for? He'd have to talk about Sandra about getting rid of this one, too.

He was so focused on the paper in front of him he almost missed the tapping from behind him.

He turned around, expecting a window washer, or a stray pigeon, and gaped as he saw a familiar face staring back at him.

He thought she must be on a scaffold, but then realized there was no window washer due this week, and there was no scaffolding outside to support her. How….?

"May I come in," Betty asked blandly as he rose, opened the window, still gaping at her as he held that one sheet of paper in his hand.

"How…..?"

He looked down. Then up.

No wires. No platforms. Betty was actually standing on air. She was really flying. Just like those girls Harold had babbled about for hours after her departure last month.

"C-Come in, Betty," he rasped, stepping back from the window.

She floated in, and settled to the floor as James just gaped at her.

"So," he finally rasped as she held a small box close to one side. "I don't suppose you're returning to work," he asked.

"Actually, I'm here to do you a favor," she told him as she walked over and set the box on his desk.

"A….favor?" "Yes. First of all, Harold, as I said before, is an imposter. The equations he can't seem to solve? They aren't even his. He stole them from my father. And, yes, I have proof.

"In fact, I just filed a patent based on those calculations that allow limited access to the quantum field. For proof," she said, pulling out the small, silver device, and pointing it at his huge desk. "Exhibit A."

An instant later the huge, oak desk was simply gone.

"Holy……"

"This is what Harry can't figure out," she told him, reversing the process. "Because he lost most of the secondary work when he tried to kill Professor Utonium almost eight years ago.

"Instead, he accidentally shrank him into another dimension.

"You can tell that old faker that the professor is back, though. I found a way to reverse the process, and tracked him down so I could restore him. You can also tell him that we've already patented the quantum generator, and both processes that harnesses its energies. So, I suggest you stop him from any further attempts to work out the theorem before he does something terrible."

"This is…..is going to cost me millions," James moaned, wadding up the paper he held.

"Maybe not. My father's number. He's unorthodox, and has his own way of doing things, but he's a legitimate researcher, and scientist. He might be willing to license you to handle certain applications of his discoveries."

"If," James asked, staring at her as she put the device back into the box, and closed it up.

"Just do the right thing. Harry's a fake, a fraud, and a very dangerous man.

"Do yourself a favor, and get rid of him before he hurts a lot of innocent people. It's the only thing he's really good at."

"Would you…..come back?" "What," she frowned as she turned from the window she was approaching.

"I mean, if the professor, your father, ah, came to work for me. Would you come with him?" She smiled back at him. "Ask anyone. You never know what I'm liable to do," she laughed lightly, feeling more like her old self for the first time in years.

James stared after her as she simply leapt out the still open window, and flew off so fast it seemed she all but disappeared. "Wow," he murmured, then went to his desk, and stabbed the intercom. "Mrs. Jacobs? Get Harold Buckhannon up here right now.

"Then send security to close, and seal his lab. That's right. Immediately."

He leaned back, and sighed as he set back in his chair, still staring at the open window.

What a woman.

Predictably, the scientist showed up in good time. He didn't realize it until now, but Harold spent more time kissing up, and charming people than he did working in his own lab. He also seemed to go through a lot of aides and assistants.

It didn't make the man look too good even without Betty's assertions concerning his character.

"Mr. Owens," the older man smiled as he entered the office with a confident air of familiarity. "You wanted to see me?"

"I've got bad news, Harry," he called the man, seeing only then the frayed cuffs of his worn shirt jutting out from the sleeves of his old-fashioned jacket. "Very bad news."

"What is it," he asked, trying to look and sound confident. "Surely the government isn't pulling back on our contracts….?" "Actually, we lost those contracts. The process you've been pursuing unsuccessfully has already been perfected, and patented by someone else."

"What," he choked, looking genuinely worried now. "Who? Was it one of those snot-nosed lab rats I sent packing? If they stole my research….."

"Actually, it was someone named…..Professor Utonium."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he looked truly horrified.

"That….That's impossible. He died years ago."

"Actually, he was shrunk down out of this dimension into another years ago. His daughter, the….abomination, you called her? She completed, and applied the theorem he was working on, and rebuilt his prototype field generator to restore him to this dimension.

"She was nice enough to warn me the work had already been patented, and that if we tried filing on any aspect of it, we could end up in court for years to come. If we didn't just go bankrupt thanks to your incompetency," he informed Harry.

"He's…..He's alive."

"Very much so."

"Mr. Owens," Harold rasped anxiously. "James….."

"You're finished, Harry. Through. I've already ordered your lab sealed, and I'll have some real experts brought in to clean up your mess.

"You're fired. Leave now. I do not wish to see you again."

"This….This is an outrage. I've spent years working on this project. So what if I….borrowed a few theorems from a dead man's lab? You're still stealing my genius."

"Years? Then why did you claim the idea only came to you only a year ago?" "Listen, James. You can't trust that freak of nature. She's not even a real person. She's……"

"I've read the stories, and the trash rags, too. As far as I'm concerned, Betty Flowers is as real as anyone else on the planet. A lot nicer, too. Out, Harry. Or do I have to call security to escort you?" "But…..I….I can't just….."

"Mrs. Jacobs. Send security in. I've an unwelcome visitor that won't leave."

"You can't do this," the old man howled as he was being literally dragged out of the office.

"Show him the door, Ben," James told the beefy man leading two other guards. "Don't let him back in."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Owens," the head of security nodded as they left the office.

"This isn't over, James," he howled as he was dragged away. "I'll get those brats if it's the last thing I do. Them, and their stupid, half-witted creator."

Then the man was gone.

James looked back to the window. "I wouldn't count on it, Harry," he smirked.

PPG

"You could have tipped our hand," Sara told her as Betty filled them in on her visit to James Owen' office later that evening at home.

"You tipped your hand, don't you think," she couldn't help snipping at the woman who sat at the table with them as they celebrated the professor's return. Outside, media trucks still set, waiting for another candid shot of the professor who had been declared alive after being dead for almost eight years.

"Give me a break. I did learn a few things in all those criminology courses," Betty told Blossom and Sara as she pulled out a small recording device.

"Here's just a hint," she said, and clicked on the play button.

There was the sound of a door being closed, and then a familiar, snide tone asked, "Mr. Owens. You wished to see me?"

Bubbles laughed, and clapped.

"Way to go, sis."

"It gets better," he told them, handing the recording over to Sara. "Think you can use that?" "I'm sure I can come up with something," the still attractive redhead smiled at her as she took the device. "And I'm impressed. That's really using your head."

"It sure is," Blossom agreed. "So, that solves one worry. Right?" "Maybe," Betty told them. "Maybe not. Knowing Harry, he still has something somewhere he held back for his own security. That means there is still a risk he might try implementing the quantum theorem for his own purposes."

"That could be bad news," the professor agreed as he came into the room looking more himself in spite of the gray now streaking his once dark hair. "Harry has just enough intelligence to really botch things on a grand scale if he's not stopped."

"I agree," Blossom said as they looked up at her father.

"So, what do we do," Sara asked. "We could call the authorities, but right now, all we have on him is assault, and theft charges for sure. And considering the time frame, we might not even get those to stick in court. By the time anyone acts, he could use the data he already has to do something really….bad."

"So what do we do," Bubbles asked in genuine concern as the professor sat down with them at the table, and eyed the feast the girls had all pitched in to make.

"First, we enjoy this fine meal," Professor Utonium told them. "And give thanks that we're all here, and all safe."

"Amen," all three sisters agreed as one.

"Then, we figure out how to take down Harry once and for all and put that thieving fruitcake behind bars," the professor smiled at the four women with a gleam in his eye.

All three sisters cheered.

PPG

"Hello, little man," a voice cooed as Harry sat in a sagging, battered lounger in his dimly lit apartment.

Harry stared at the window covered by a worn shade, the motel sign blinking on and off as he stared at the garish neon that flickered badly as he stared at the notebook before him, trying to understand what he had missed. Why the half finished prototype on a nearby coffee table propped up by two yellowing phones books wouldn't work.

He spent most of the afternoon, and the subsequent night staring at the notebook as if the blank lines might somehow fill themselves in by some miracle as he finished off his last bottle of whiskey. He was still waiting for some burst of inspiration to rise and fill his mind, confident in his own genius, when the oily voice giggled in his ears.

"Who's there," he fumbled drunkenly, dropping his empty bottle, pen, and notebook as he staggered to his feet to stare around the room filled with shadows.

"Maybe no one," the voice sighed.

"Maybe you're only friend," it added mournfully.

"Why should I believe you," he snarled, snatching up the empty bottle by its neck to hold before him defensively.

"How about a little show of…..shall we call it faith," the voice tittered, and his eyes were drawn to the notebook where the formula he had been tinkering with for ages suddenly began to rewrite and complete itself before his eyes as if an unseen hand were writing it.

He gaped, sobering instantly as cold certainty filled his mind with dread purpose as he saw the arcane symbols etched into paper out of thin air filled his mind at the same time, and he looked toward the useless prototype that looked more like a space heater than the device his mind was conjuring just then.

He began to echo that soft, mocking laughter as he walked toward the prototype, and began to take it apart.

"I'll show them," he growled with genuine malice. "This time, I'll show them all.

"And I'll put Utonium, and his freaks, in a box where they belong," he added as the voice chortled, "Yes. Yes, you will," before it faded away as if it had never been.

To Be Continued………..