Bubbles' POV

Boomer and I lay with our brown wigs on, trying to think of a way we're connected to Cody. He grins, looking up at me hopefully.

"I think I've got it!" He shouts excitedly. I automatically cock my head, fascinated. Boomer… Boomer sometimes had good ideas, and he'd not been having a shortage of them lately.

"Um… we're his cousins? It's basic, and simple, and-"

"Totally obvious." I finish, cupping my chin. "We could just slip in."
"Nope, Bubbles. Invitation only, remember?"
"Then we'll have to be the bad guys. Boomer, have you ever faked a murder?"
"Wait… what?"

I put a finger to my lips, and leap up from the grass of the park. After gesturing for him to follow me, we creep along the alleyways, reaching an isolated stretch of greenery. A meadow, perhaps.

What it is isn't important, anyway, but my idea is.

"Hmm… d'you remember Dexter?"

"What about him?"

"Well… we're going to need some fake blood and a red wig. Plus, maybe we should frame someone for his "murder," just to be on the safe side." I suggest.

Boomer slowly nods, processing the pure evil that just streamed out of my mouth in the form of a plot.

"Right. But… in the end, the evidence will point to a mysterious serial killer."

"I can manipulate that." I reply, crossing my fingers behind my back. Well, now the killer didn't have to be me, but I couldn't say the same for Boomer. After all, he got involved, and there will have to be a price for him to pay.

Being framed for murder is nothing new to him anyway, and there's nobody good to blame it on. That's when I think of the perfect person, and it just pings inside me. I know who to blame, and I don't really think it'll affect them much.

That's why, when we end up outside the wig shop with a red wig, Boomer considers taking our wigs off, since nobody is in sight.

"It's itchy." He whines.

"We only have to buy the paint," I tell him, holding up the bags with 'Dexter's' clothing in it, "so just be patient." I finish.

He scratches his wig, but it manages to stay on anyway.

xxx

Our trip is successful, and we now can set up the scene. Well… we need Dexter's blood for that, and there's only one person who can guarantee we'll find it.

"Boomer, you said they know… lots of things."

"They do."

"Why won't you tell me their name?"
He sighs.

"HIM. Their name is HIM, Bubbles. That doesn't bother you, right?"

Him. I like the way it sounds in a way, so abstract and unique. I'm sure 'Him' would hate me for thinking that, but… I choose to drop that thought for now.

"So if we fake his death, that should distract Blossom, right?"
"Yeah, and if not, we could always frame her. She'd have to clean the misunderstanding up, and Buttercup would help." I reply.

"How do we get to HIM's lair?" I ask.

I couldn't quite believe we had to turn to the equivalent to the devil to help us… clear up this little Cody problem…

Boomer blinks at me for a few seconds, before vanishing in a draught of air, wafting around my face.

A lobster like figure appears, grey hairs sprouting on their claws and replacing their eyebrows – they remind me of a carpet that's been bent, with the stick in their claws and the faint red tint to them that seems to have faded like paint.

"Bubbles," he places a hand on my left shoulder, slowly pronouncing my name, "follow me."

We walk into a misty room, until the grey engulfs me, and I began to slip out of consciousness completely. My eyes flick shut and I began to relax, loosening my shoulders from their original position that was… well, kind of uptight.

When I wake up, we're sat on chairs opposite each other. HIM blinks at me for a few seconds until he finally asks me the question.

"What brings you here?" He asks.

"Um… I have to fake Dexter's death… and… and… I need a pint of his blood."

"Speak no more, who brought you here? One does not simply find me by themselves…"
"Boomer… Boomer Jojo." I tell him.

"Boomer… Jojo. Yes, my son is finally doing what pleases me. I'll give you his blood, just let me find it." HIM says, walking up to a cabinet marked: MORTAL BLOOD. He mutters under his breath, peeping in the D section.

A thick file comes out, and he blows onto it, resulting in that disappearing as if it were dust in the wind, replaced by a wide bottle of a red liquid marked: DEXTER. He smiles at me, before giving me the bottle.

"Thank you." Apparently HIM had become nicer with age, because in like a million years, I hadn't expected this to happen.

"No problem." HIM says, and he blows into my face. Again, mist eats me up until I tumble back into the physical world, sat on grass with Boomer, clutching the bottle of Dexter's blood.

"Where are you going to plant the evidence of his "death" then?" Boomer asks, puzzled.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." I tell him.

xxx

Blossom's POV

"Buttercup, you should read the cheek of these newspaper people." I tell her, pointing at a small column.

Buttercup looks at it, eating a piece of toast, but eventually drops it onto her plate when she sees the headline properly. The toast falls in a soggy, buttery heap, but she seems uninterested.

"They think you killed Dexter?" She asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I'm like, becoming the new Bubbles." I murmur angrily.

We had finally adapted to Bubbles supposedly getting up early, going on jogs and helping Boomer study, go shopping with her friends and do other stuff I or Buttercup came up with when Professor asked us where Bubbles was.

Hopefully, we'd find her soon.

"Will we ever tell Professor that Bubbles is actually missing?"

I pause, wondering how to answer her question. "If the situation gets dangerous," I begin, eating a piece of bacon and cutting some sausage, "then yes, we will." I finish, having swallowed what remained on my plate.

My plate was kind of depressing to look at, because I sat next to Bubbles, and the plate was set out for her, with food stains all over it – what was the girl even doing?

"Anyway. Where are we going to look for Bubbles now?"
"We can't, remember. It's Cody's funeral today."
"What're you going to do about Dexter?"
"He's not dead, but I do have to clear that up…"

Our conversation went back and forth – and each time I thought about Dexter, he seemed faint to the point where he disappeared altogether. I blink, reading the newspaper column once more. "How did they find my DNA at the scene?" I suddenly wonder aloud.

"What? How is that possible? You were at Princess' at 8:16pm, so you couldn't have killed him in five seconds."

"Yeah, and remember that Princess' house is like a thirty minute flight from Baron Boulevard," I say, angrily.

"Someone's probably… I don't know, stitching you up?"

"It doesn't matter. I can fix this – just make sure it's before Cody's funeral." I respond, beginning to look at my phone. Surely, four hours would be enough time to fix all of this…?

Buttercup looked up from her toast after a few minutes, quickly throwing a look at her watch. "Uh… Blossom?" She asks.

"Yes?" I say, taking my eyes off my phone to look at her properly.

"I've got to go in about ten minutes." She says.

I wonder if I should ask where – but I choose not to be nosy, instead, uninterested, I blink at my phone, idly nodding.

"Okay. See you… when you get back." As if I'm a zombie, I fix my eyes back onto my phone's screen.

xxx

Bubbles' POV

"Perfect." I tell him, pointing at the blood covering the gravel and sprayed on the fences. Despite the place being zoned off for the investigation, Boomer had taught me how to become invisible.

That did mean this was pointless, but we had purchased our wigs and outfits to transform into Buttercup and Blossom, so it was worth it.

In a sort of struggling-like way, the blood splattered the fences and the grass was soaked in certain spots and patches a brown-ish like colour, with flesh coloured flakes scattered in the grass as well. It looked like someone had been specifically violent.

As for the weapon… well I'd decided to drop it.

Boomer blinked at me, before speaking. "Bubbles… whilst your sister sorts out Dexter framing her for his death, or his… fake death, I don't know, shouldn't we get dressed?"

"Absolutely." I say. "But firstly… we need invites, remember?" I point out.

Now he looks really confused. "Where are we going to get invites," he whispers, "if you don't-"

"Shh. Follow me." I say, and I quickly launch myself into the air.

Boomer is a good flying companion – we fly in… well not silence, but to the relaxed music of birds and wind whooshing in our hair. Eventually, we reach our house, and our bedroom. Strangely, the window was still open.

With ease, we both tumble into the bedroom.

"Now what?" Boomer asks.

"Now… we search." I tell him, as I begin to ransack Blossom's bed for any sign of the invites. "Remember, Boomer, these invites are pieces of cards."

When I look up from the bed, having found one invite, Boomer is holding a piece of card as well.

"How did you do that so quickly?"

"I don't have 20/20 vision. I have like, 40/20 vision," he shrugs, "so, who are you? Blossom or Buttercup?"
"Blossom." I say, as I pull on a wig and begin to apply it to my head so it stays on.

He takes the other shopping bag and trails off into the bathroom. After slapping a bow onto my head and squeezing into a pink dress, I slowly pull on my stockings, and Boomer has finished dressing up in drag in that time.

I can't help but laugh when he steps out of the bathroom, as I do up my shoes.

"You look ridiculous." I say, snorting.

Boomer mock-pouts and stretches. "I look ridiculously flashy and fabulous as Buttercup. Even she can't pull off her own outfit as much as I can. Now, hold still – remember Blossom wears a shitload of makeup, even though she hides it pretty damn well."

I sit still as he dabs and circles red blusher onto my face, carefully putting eye shadow and eyeliner onto my face. Using the last of the cotton buds we bought, he smirks.

"Awesome." He takes out his phone, handling it gingerly, and turns it to the mirror app so I can admire his handiwork.

There's lots to admire – I look like a Blossom-Barbie doll, with my cheeks the perfect shade of red, and my eyes exaggerated to the point where they're enormous little circles in my head. I whistle, clearly impressed.

"Nicely done, Boomer. Now… be grateful Buttercup doesn't wear makeup." I tease him, rummaging through my bag. "But, you've got to wear this – it's going to complete the look," I say, holding it up. He stares at it emotionlessly, instantly shaking his head.

"I've never seen Buttercup wear that, so I refuse to wear it."

"She wears it sometimes."
"Yeah, and this is one of those 'sometimes' she doesn't," he tells me, even throwing in air quotes to prove his point.

"Alright then," I say, defeated, "get your trainers on – we've got to go like… now. Got your invite?" I ask.

He nods.

"Then we'll be going." I say, and we both float out of the window as soon as I finish my sentence breezily.

xxx

Buttercup's POV

We tapped at the buttons, until finally, I won. I grin, thrusting my fist into the air, but keeping my voice low as I cheered.

"I win! I win!" I announce with glee.

Butch rolls his eyes, but they seem to light up and become white-ish in colour, twinkling under the light-darkness of the arcade. The screen flashes, and he smiles properly.

"Well done. Play me again – I'll… I'll… I'll wreck you."
"You'll wreck me?"
"Hell yeah."

"Bring it on." I say, twisting my lips into a smirk – I was going to win for sure now. Before we played again, I reached for my phone and made sure that it was switched off – Blossom had nothing important to say, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't care much about Dexter.

Still, Dexter.

"Y'know, I heard Dexter died yesterday." I suddenly tell him. Butch responds by lifting an eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, and the stupider thing is, they think Blossom did it." I say, chuckling under my breath, "like Blossom would even hurt a fly. She's way to into 'real justice' and all that extra bullshit." I point out.

"You said it, I didn't," he says, raising his arms in the surrender position, "have you actually heard from Bubbles or Boomer? D'you think they got anything to do with this? I mean, people didn't die until-"

"Come on, Butch, they aren't little serial killers. In fact, Cody committed suicide and Dexter probably faked his death."

"Wait. What? Cody killed himself? The news is making that shit up, then! They say he was murdered and his body was fished out from the river, covered in cuts."

"Huh? Bubbles showed us… she showed us his suicide note." I say, screwing up my face and closing my eyes, as I try to remember what the letter said.

"I have chosen to die near a place I love. The rocks are sharp and the waves are strong at night. My death will take a few minutes, less than the pain I endured forever." I suddenly say aloud, remembering only one bit of the letter.

"Wow," Butch says, placing a finger on his chin, "so it was a love triangle. Bubbles/Boomer/Cody, right?"

"Uh… I don't think Bubbles and Boomer are together."

Butch suddenly seems to grow darker, and it's as if he wants to kill me now, his voice lower, deeper and… more menacing.

"Buttercup – please get your shit together. Start fucking thinking – Boomer and Bubbles vanished at the same time, on the same day. They most likely left together, and are going to escape this country. The only mystery here is… why the fuck are they killing people?" He asks, and the last bit he seems to be asking himself.

Stubborn as ever, I choose to argue back, even though deep down, I'm aware he's probably correct.

"I have got my shit together, Butch. That's a stupid, crazy coincidence. Plus… how'd you know that Boomer and Bubbles left at the exact time? Is there something you're hiding?"

Butch simply glances at me for a few seconds. "Buttercup… I think Bubbles and Boomer aren't even in the country. I just realised…"

"Shut up." I snap, unwilling to accept it, "tell me how you know they left at the exact same time-"

"I've got to go," he gabbles, interrupting me mid-sentence, as he quickly grabs his jacket, and so I can't catch up with him, seems to explode in a shower of green sparks into the air, as if he's a gas.

"That… that fucking douche. He knows something." I put my phone back on, to discover 12 new messages for Blossom. A nice little welcome from her, as usual.

"Cody's funeral… our invites are missing."

"No they're not," I text back, "mine's in the drawer next to your bed."

Beep.

"I'll be right there." I text her, after receiving the next message.

xxx

We sit on the chairs, both blinking at each other wordlessly, until I finally think about what Butch said.

"What use does this… this… thief have for our invites?"
Blossom shrugs. It's strangely relieving to know Miss-Know-It-All hasn't an answer this time.

"I… the person I met was a private eye." I tell Blossom.

She nods idly, and I can tell she's incredibly detached… sad, because she still hasn't seen Bubbles. Blossom wasn't listening, and I couldn't blame her – it numbed my ears to know our sister was likely dead, or didn't want to see us ever again… or… or… she committed suicide.

I exhale sadly. "The private eye say, well… they say that Bubbles and Boomer have probably left the country," I put my head in my hands, and practically whisper the last part, "which means there's no hope. We've lost her."

Blossom suddenly blinks behind her mask, and instantly, a torrent of fat, salty tears fly out of her eyes, streaking her makeup all over her face. I open my arms, and a strange feeling flushes and swishes inside me.

She dives into my arms, and we both rest our heads on each other's shoulders, her sobbing, and me awkwardly patting her back. Without Bubbles whispering in our ears that Professor will fix everything, it seems wrong.

I try to imagine her silhouette crying with us, wiping her tears away with her sleeve, and I tell her off for being a baby. As she slowly comes to life in an animated version of herself, she seems to fade away just as quickly.

"She's gone, Buttercup." Blossom says, gasping for breath as she continues to sob violently.

"I know, I know. Um… Blossom, I don't think we should go to the funeral… tonight." I tell her.

"No, we must."
"With what invitations?"

She blinks, and suddenly looks lost once more. "I guess a stay-in will have to do." She murmurs, standing up, removing herself from my hug and walking to the bathroom.

"Want any tissues?" She asks, stood in the door.

I force a smile onto my face. "I'll… I'll be okay." I say, more quietly than I usually do. As she leaves, my gaze instantly flicks back to Bubbles' empty bed.

"Why…? What did we do?" I whisper to the bed.

Professor calls from downstairs, asking if Bubbles is feeling better.

"Uh… yeah," I say, trying to think of a reason she's not here, "Bubbles went out to tutor Boomer. She's having pizza, too, so… so don't make her dinner."

Professor barely reacts – he doesn't seem to find it strange Bubbles is never home when he is.

Blossom returns, having blinked her tears away, but her little eyelashes are still spiky and clearly look damp from a distance.

As she becomes closer, I try to look her right in the eyes, but the glitter in her eyes from her tears scare me too much to even speak.

"She's gone." Blossom says, and I can feel the aching in her chest, curled up inside her like… like her own little baby. It grows inside me, from an embryo to a foetus. I exhale.

"Yeah. We… can we find her?" I suddenly ask.

Blossom looks surprised and startled, but ends up sighing, looking like she doesn't want to have to answer my question.

"I don't know," She says, her gaze focussed on the window, "I don't know, Buttercup."

We both hear something at the window, and quickly run towards it. Surprisingly, what we've been waiting for is hovering by the window.

Instantly, we both dive for the window latch to open it, but Blossom beats me to it and pushes the window open. Finally – we'd been reunited.

With Butch, Brick, Boomer and Bubbles, who was being held in Brick's arms.

Bubbles blinked at all of us, then finally spoke.

"I need your help." She says, entering through the window, after Brick finally dropped her – apparently she had tried to escape earlier, his grip had looked pretty tight.

I was convinced I was dreaming, already stretching out a hand to pinch myself, when Bubbles suddenly stepped forward, whispering.

"I missed you guys."
So did we.