CHAP 3

There are peculiar moments that, when run awry, lead the comprehension of time into an ill perceived experience. It can either slow down or exhilarate faster than you deem in that moment to be at all possible. When a familiar whine in the holiday air struck a cord and flashes of blue and red washed across the walls of the Bellum residence like violent waves, Buttercup had already found her body dashing rapidly out of the household by no will of her own. For she had been snatched up, like a nostalgic memoir, a childhood doll, by the redhead, who urgently made for her motorbike. With her magma locks shoved into the tight restrictive space of her helmet, zipping up her leather coat, the engine revved and before the police had pulled up instantly, with harsh screeches into the driveway, the gals were already speeding down the road like a fierce bullet, deep into the night.

The child, with her fingerless paws pressed upon the handles beside the woman's, was letting herself be swooped up into the hypnotic countless eyes of the city, bleeding against the corners of her vision, as they whizzed in and out of traffic, swaying in the busy lanes. Her eyes absorbed the intense stares, almost reflecting them back out from all directions, like emerald disco-balls and her curiosity and wonder was all too obvious to the woman, hellbent on escaping the hands of the law who'd received the information on the case seemingly, and suspiciously, all too quickly. Buttercup's fascination was an adorable bundle in the secretary's clutches and it reminded her of when she took her first pet, after having moved out her home, out on it's first car ride.

"Have you ever been on a motorbike, Buttercup?"

"No, especially not at night"

The lady smirked from behind her helmet, at the still remaining fragments of innocence that lingered in the Powerpuff's being. It made her settle and regain some piece of hope deep inside.

"Where are we going?" the fascinated tyke cooed, her feign mane ruffling in the wind.

"I'm going to find somewhere to make a call... for the time being, you need to keep a look out"

"Gotcha"

The tomboy acknowledged what an odd, yet somewhat inciting sight this may have seemed to curious passersby. Lingering just outside the clutches of total darkness in the tight alleyway, the puff sat on guard, atop the motorbike, like a hound, keeping watch for law enforcement, as Bellum, clad in gorgeous leather, with her fiery bushy hair free from the tightness of the helmet, made an emergency call. Eavesdropping, all the raven haired babe could pick up was 'help', 'trouble', and 'situation'. Sara was doing well to mask her voice, so well the supernatural kid couldn't even detect what was being fully said.

Amid the serious overtones that dwelled in the confines of their adrenaline pumped situation, Buttercup couldn't help but feel a sting of humiliation, as she squatted atop the monstrously large vehicle, hearing praises and delightful 'aww's' from wives, girlfriends and other women, whose otherwise stone-hard exterior would crumble at the sight of what they thought was an adorable Schipperke.

The butter-pup huffed grouchily, but remained watch, occasionally picking up other words along the way and trying to piece them together.

"Right. There's a place we can reside for the time being, but it may not be for too long" Bellum announced, finishing her call. Finally.

"Great. So when are you gonna feed me more on what the heck's going on?" huffed the puff.

"Soon, I assure you, but I don't wanna risk saying anything when we could have someone spying on us this very second"

Some faith THIS woman had. Then again, her speculation was definitely understandable. Heck, the two were in this predicament where they weren't even sure if they should or could trust one another.

"We haven't long to go baby girl. Hold on"

As they continued on their way, Buttercup was oddly quiet. She was just trying to find out how Femme Fetale and Bellum could have gotten to know each other personally. All she knew from earlier, before she rudely interrupted, was that Bellum had previously tried to help Fetale out, to rehabilitate her properly after her past of criminal activity. Maybe there was this genuine friendship they had made and maybe something... some conflict... came between them. Maybe Fetale was on her path back to crime or was trying to manipulate the redhead into the femi-nazi mindset, like she had done to herself and her two sisters. It's a possible, and logical, assumption. Maybe in the heat of the moment of an argument, they began to fight and, unintentionally, Bellum took it too far and wound up taking the villainess's life. So far, that was all the tomboy could put together herself. It was easy to jump to a conclusion... perhaps too easy.

Then again, who was to say Bellum was in the right? Maybe Bellum had caught the girl out in pursuing her past activities and took matters into her own hands. Maybe she DID seek out to kill her.

The ravenhaired werepup gulped uncomfortably, thinking there was indeed the chance she could be taken hostage. Maybe Bellum had been playing it smooth to lull her into a false sense of security and then BAM! Perhaps she's somehow render her unconscious, blackmail her or threaten her. She didn't know how, but Sara was a smart lady and of course she could take the girl's trust and use it against her.

Just before she became utterly trapped in this colossal mind war and break with sanity in her head, she noticed a slight trembling in the woman's arms, feeling the shudder from behind. Turning her head to look up, she noticed Bellum's chest jerk and heave unsteadily. The leather on her bike gloves squeaked lowly, as she seized the handles more tightly... and two, wriggling streaks of clear black drew down the visor.

Something was familiar about their destination. The building. The number... 74A.

When Bellum whipped off her helmet yet again, having pulled up and dragged her vehicle into the bushes to hide, she saw the puff look to her in question. She had felt her big sweet eyes on the journey and she sniffed, brushing off her coat and tossing back her tremendous mane.

"Right, onward. Here, if given enough time, we should be alright" the voluptuous lady assured. It could still be indicated that she had been crying, but the puff chose not to say anything. She gazed down at the ground, as they strode up to the door and Bellum wrung the bell.

"S-Sara...?" pried the tomboy, a minor croak in her raspy voice.

"Just... got a little bit of a headache, sweetie" she explained, rubbing her temples. "Thank you for being considerate though"

Buttercup was in hell. The questions and doubts wouldn't give her a moment of peace. She couldn't even trust herself.

The bell wrung again.

"I'll feed you in a second" hushed a pleasant voice, responding to a feline cry.

"Keane?" pondered Buttercup, intrigued.

Never had the Powerpuff felt more relieved, and yet more puzzled. The teacher barely opened the door up to her guests, more so inched it open to see who was there, like some agoraphobic hermit.

"Quick" she hissed and the two outsiders crept in.

At first Valentino wasn't sure what to make of the canine get up, but found, with a good sniff here and there, that Buttercup was no pup and was a welcome visitor.

"Mroow" he greeted, brushing his side against the Halloween enthusiast.

"Gracious" exclaimed the teacher. "I'm sure glad you didn't frighten my darling"

"We're so grateful, Keane. I apologize for bothering you so late" the bush redhead said, hugging her quickly.

"Nonsense. Tell me what's happened"

"It's been so hectic" Bellum continued as they walked into the kitchen."But, Buttercup may be able to help us in all of this"

"Buttercup?" peeped the woman in astonishment, looking around. Humorously, the tall secretary cleared her throat and bent down to pet the tyke, pouting angrily that, once again, she'd been mistaken for a mutt.

"I-I see" stuttered Keane, a little surprised. "W-well, don't you look-"

"I know, the costume sucks! I'm keeping this on for Sara as a disguise" the brat yelled, losing her patience.

The women chuckled.

"Well, certainly the more the merrier" sang Keane, going into the kitchen.

Despite the warm greeting, Buttercup noticed Valentino keeping his distance from the adults. His fur prickled along his back and when the young girl approached him, he quickly dashed over to her legs, huddling close. A long, low, creepy mewl and growl emitted from the domestic beast, as his wide eyes stared over into the kitchen. As the grownups re-emerged with tea, he withdrew a loud hiss and scrambled upstairs into the bedroom.

End of Chapter Three