-Chapter Two-

:: The Utonium Offspring ::

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We're all just kids who grew up way too fast.

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When Joseph got back to his gated mansion in Hollywood Hills, a string of maids on both sides, greeted him at the door. He smiled and proceeded into the mahogany-paneled foyer where his daughter came at him like a tidal wave.

"Dad, this place is like a circus!" Buttercup, his third child, yelled. "There are people all over the house! Talk about a lack of privacy!"

Joseph gave her a patronizing smile and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sweetheart, we're having a wedding here the day after tomorrow," he began. "Do you have any idea how much preparation is going into this? Maggie has her hands full with caterers, decorators, florists, you name it."

Despite her playful name, Maggie is the human equivalent of a pit bull. Standing at 5'3, made entirely out of attitude, this head maid makes Gordon Ramsey look like a child. Needless to say, Maggie isn't exactly the nicest person, but she gets the job done.

Buttercup rolled her eyes and folded her arms with a pout. She wasn't what you would call a daddy's girl, but she still wasn't all that happy that her father was remarrying. Her hair was long and jet black and her eyes were an exotic shade of green. With a $30,000 shopping spree and private-jet trips to Paris, she epitomized lifestyles of the young and privileged. Always up on the latest designer fashions, the twenty-two year old was the envy of every girl her age.

"You're not smiling," Joseph teased, pulling his daughter close and kissing her cheek. "Sweetheart, this wedding is taking its toll on everybody. I know it's an inconvenience, but it'll be over soon."

Again, Buttercup rolled her eyes. "It doesn't seem to be such an inconvenience for Peyton," she spat hatefully. "She gets to just show up in her wedding dress and not have to lift a finger. Meanwhile, everyone else is-"

"Buttercup, you want your dad to be happy, don't you?" he asked, stroking her perfectly maintained hair with his hand. "Can't you just cooperate for a few more days until this wedding is over? After that things will go back to normal. I promise."

"No they won't!" Buttercup replied angrily. "Things will never go back to normal. Not with her in this house!" And with that, she turned and stormed down the hall and burst into the game room. She picked up a pool ball and threw it across the room in a rage.

"Whoa, what the hell is that all about?" asked a very annoying voice from behind her.

She spun around to find her older brother sauntering into the room, polishing an apple on the sleeve of his graphic T-shirt. "What are you doing here?" she asked in annoyance. "Don't you have a house of your own?"

He shrugged and took a hearty bite of the apple as he sat down on the sofa. "Dad wanted me to come by and get fitted for my tux for the wedding," he explained, chomping away. "What's bugging you?"

Joseph junior, or 'Butch' as everyone had come to call him for most of his life, was a twenty-two year old bad boy with tousled dark hair and mischievous green eyes. He was tall with a tattooed body, loads of sex appeal and a handsome face much like his father's. He was also the older half of the Utonium twins- older than Buttercup by 10 minutes. Despite his movie star good looks and abundant family fortune, he was much more laid back than the other Hollywood kids his age. Sure, he appreciated the lavish lifestyle his parents supplied but he tried not to let it go to his head.

"All anybody ever talks about anymore is this fucking wedding." Buttercup walked over to the pool table and leaned against the edge, letting her eyes scan the carpet underneath her feet.

"It's not just any wedding," Butch replied adamantly. "It's our old man who's getting married."

"Yeah, to that home-wrecking bitch," she murmured quietly under her breath. "Why can't he marry someone his own age? Or why doesn't he stay single for a while? I mean, he and mom only separated nine months ago. Their divorce has only been final for like a week!"

Butch jumped up and took another bite of his apple. "Why don't you chill out?" he began. "You're just jealous because you're not gonna be getting all of Dad's attention anymore. That's why you're having a problem with this wedding."

"Shut up," Buttercup ordered as she jumped off of the pool table and glared at him. "I just think he's going about things the wrong way, that's all. You can't jump from one marriage into the next without making a mess of things."

Butch laughed, nearly choking on the apple. "Since when are you such an expert on marriage?" he asked with some irritation evident in his voice.

"I probably know more than you do, and you're married."

"My marriage is rock solid."

"Oh please," Buttercup grumbled as she sauntered out of the room.

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Butch shrugged off his sister's spoiled attitude and picked up the phone in the game room. He quickly dialed the number of his condo in Burbank and waited for Princess to answer. "Hey sexy," he finally said in a low, macho voice. "I'll be home in a few. Want me to pick anything up?"

"Did you stop by the studio and pick up that sheet music?" she asked irritably. Princess and Butch had been married for eight months, much to the dislike of her father, famed movie producer King Morbucks. King and Joseph were rival producers and the integration of their offspring was a constant source of havoc.

"Uh, no, not yet," he replied. "I'll see if I can stop by on my way home. Traffic's awful tonight though. Not sure if I want to make a detour like that."

"I can't believe this!" she suddenly shouted in a shrill voice. "I've been asking you for two days to bring that sheet music home! Why's it so hard for you to remember?"

Butch held the phone away from his ear, wincing at his wife's high-pitched shrieking. "Shit babe, take it down a few notches," he complained. "I told you I'd bring it home and I will. Just calm down."

"Forget it," she lamented. "I'll just see you when you get here." She hung the phone up with a loud slam, leaving Butch with a dial tone on the other end.

"Bitch..." he murmured under his breath, hanging the phone up and walking back to the cream colored sofa and plopping down on the cushions. He loved his girl and was happy to be married to her, most of the time. But lately it seemed like all she did was nag him about her career. She wanted more than anything to be a singer, and tried desperately to get Butch's record label to produce her. As much as he loved her, he didn't think she had what it took. But how could he tell his own wife that she wasn't good enough?

On top of that, Princess had aspirations of becoming an actress like every other starry-eyed girl in Hollywood. She had been in a few commercials when she was a kid but nothing concrete came up for her since then. To make matters worse, her own father was a movie producer and refused to put her in any of his films. This infuriated Princess to tears almost on a daily basis.

With a sigh, Butch picked up the remote and flipped on the television, wiggling into a comfortable position and propping his sneakers on the other arm of the couch. He was exhausted and wanted to just go home and lay down, but as of that minute he didn't think he could handle Princess' ranting.

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"Where to, lady?" An impatient voice asked for the third time in the space of two minutes.

The passenger in the back forced herself to relax. Her eyes focused on the ugly greyish color of the seats in the cab and the foul smell of smoke, piss and something else combined.

She took a deep breath. "Beverly Hills."

The cab driver rolled his eyes. Was this woman mental?

"Anywhere specific?"

"Why don't we try getting there first?" She snapped. Her glare made him flinch, even though her eyes were hidden behind huge glasses. Somehow, he just knew her look could kill.

As the cab slowly moved, the woman unconsciously ran a hand through her copper locks. She wished she had told someone- anyone- that she was coming home today. At least then she would be sitting in a nice car and not the back of a smelly cab. What if someone recognized her? Oh God- what if she ended up on the front of a newspaper? Or on tv?

The cab driver seemed to sense her distress and cleared his throat.

"What's your story, missy?"

She rolled her eyes. She was stuck with one of those. The ones that liked to talk.

"Don't have one." was her curt reply. "Drive, please."

He physically shook off her answer and tried again. "Everyone has a story. Including a name, what's yours?"

She was silent for a while, her eyes locked on the world outside her window. Then, with a sigh, she mumbled:

"Blossom."

The cab driver nodded. "Nice name. So what are you doing in Beverly Hills?"

"I'm an assassin, my next target lives there." Complete silence. "Can you stop asking me questions now?" she hadn't meant to sound rude, but she had a pounding headache and she didn't really feel like telling this stranger her life story. If he didn't already know it, then screw him.

Who the hell had never heard of Blossom Utonium?

First child of Joseph Utonium, one of the most riches people on earth. Daughter of one of the most influential actresses in the world, Sarah Bellum. Dated her fair share of celebrities, had her own line of clothing and perfume, and a reality tv show once upon a time, before she blew it all on drugs and alcohol.

Her meltdown had been all over the news.

Perhaps out of embarrassment, her father had quietly checked her into a rehab center in London of all places, and had left her there to rot. Needless to say, Blossom and her father weren't on the best of terms.

She had accidentally found out about the wedding, when her mother- assuming Blossom already knew- asked her whether she should order a dress for her for the event.

Confusion had quickly been overtaken by anger at not being invited to such a special day. She was still his daughter, for fuck's sake! But what did he care? He had divorced her mother after two years of marriage, married another almost a year after their split and then divorced her recently after twenty one years together, and now this? This would be his third marriage, and for his sake, his last.

Her father's two marriages had produced four children. Blossom, his first and only child from his first marriage. The twins, Buttercup and Butch, were from his second, and even though Blossom could barely stand the girl twin, she got along surprisingly well with her only brother, the other twin. The forth child had been a surprise to the three older ones.

A bastard child.

Blossom didn't know how her father was still alive to this day. If her husband cheated on her and had a child with some woman, she wouldn't take it sitting down. Oh no.

She would be serving double life sentences.

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"And that concludes our lesson for today, Miss Utonium." An elderly woman said with a smile as she closed the open books scattered around the large dining table.

'Miss Utonium' rolled her eyes playfully, before smiling back at the woman. "Lady Christine, must you always call me that? Just 'Bubbles' is fine." the seventeen year old girl said with a shrug.

"Maybe when you stop calling me Lady Christine." the woman's smile widened.

"Hmmm... Nope." replied Bubbles as she pushed herself off the chair. The lesson had been too long and she couldn't feel her left cheek anymore, let alone her whole left leg. But it had been necessary. Who knew how long she would be gone for? It was best to finish her studies for the next few weeks in advance, just in case.

Just as Bubbles stifled a yawn, her mother stepped into the dining room.

"Afternoon, Miss Christine. Is Bubbles done?" The beautiful woman asked, glancing at her daughter briefly. Miss Christine nodded, and as Bubbles was led out of the dining room, she waved at her. Bubbles waved back and offered a smile to the woman.

When Bubbles stepped into her room, she wasn't surprised to see it look like a tornado had just passed. Wardrobe doors were opened, her numerous clothing items scattered all over the floor.

Her mother pulled a suitcase out of one of the closets and dropped it on the bed.

"Our flight's in a couple of hours-" she looked around the room, "-and you haven't even packed your stuff." Bubbles watched her mother try to hide a smile as she took another look at the room. When her mother's eyes finally landed on her, Bubbles studied her for a moment. Most people said they looked alike. Too alike. Her mother was drop dead gorgeous, and if that's how Bubbles would look in 30 years, then damn it, what right did she have to complain?

"I'll be done before you know it." Bubbles smiled, shrugging slightly. Her mother rolled her eyes, before heading for the door. She paused to give Bubbles a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"We don't have to go, you know. It's not too late to cancel."

"Mom, it's dad's wedding. What kind of daughter would I be to not show up?" Bubbles looked up at her mother, who sighed and nodded.

"You're right, he's your father. Don't take too long, sweetie." Was the last thing her mother mumbled before walking out of the room.

Stifling another yawn, Bubbles began to stuff some clothes into the suitcase. She didn't really care if they were complete outfits or not; if she needed more clothes when they got to LA, she could always raid her mother's closet, or actually spend her monthly allowance on something other than books.

She spotted a photo frame on the desk in the far corner. Bored of packing, she slowly walked towards it. It was a rare photo of all the Utonium children together. A sibling portrait.

The oldest child, who looked to be around 9 in the photo, stood in between her two other siblings, with another- a baby- in her hands. All four children were smiling and actually looked happy- something that would remain as a distant memory for years to come.

Ah, childlike innocence.

Back then, none of them had ever questioned why they had different colored hair- the twins naturally had the same hair color- or why their eyes were a different color too. Back then they were a family.

A shame how easy it was for them to forget that.

~End Of Chapter~

THANKYOU guys for all your support.

Lots of Love,

T.C