Me: Welcome back readers, Marisa here with another chapter c:

Blossom: this one's from my point of view so be ready to see how I deal with these guys!

Me: *Whispers* Bubbles, cover Boomer's ears real fast.

Bubbles: *covers Boomer's ears as he sits there, confused*

Me: (sadly) I'm sorry to tell you guys, that if you're a huge fan of Boomer and you think he's quite adorable, then this chapter might be a little gruesome to you. Butch is a big jerk.

Butch: HEY!

Me: just face the facts, Butch. Alright, Bubbles, you can uncover Boomer's ears now.

*she does*

Boomer: what was that about?

Everyone: nothing….

Buttercup: let's get on with it already!

Brick: yeah, the faster they're done, the sooner I'll be back in the spotlight!

Me: hush.

Bubbles: Marisa doesn't own us or the RowdyRuffs.

Butch: We're all roughly 16 years old and have normal features, noses, fingers, et cetera. And muscles, of course. *he flexes his muscles and the fangirls swoon*

Me: reviews are like delicious soup .

Brick: why soup?

Me: because I like soup, okay? ON WITH THE STORY!

xoxo ~ml

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Chapter 4

Blossom

The RowdyRuff Boys, having since returned from "training", were staying in a small shack in the middle of the forest, not unlike Fuzzy Lumpkin's' house. It was a small, one-roomed shack with yellow, deteriorating siding and ugly purple shutters. The roof tiles were falling off and it looked as if it would fall down with merely the wind. I actually wondered why it hadn't collapsed in the earlier rain and lightning strikes. Looking around in the evening light, I noticed some fallen trees and uprooted plants here and there, observing that the storm sure had an impact on the forest. Most of the animals were probably wandering around hopelessly, their homes destroyed. I thought in the back of my mind about how serious Bubbles would consider that situation to be. I sighed. I wanted more than anything to be myself again. Brick's thin red t-shirt and black shorts were comfortable, I had to admit, but it was pretty chilly standing out in the forest without a jacket or anything to keep me warm. I had to go inside the little shack sometime.

I figured it was now or never, and I approached the door. I could hear muffled, rushed speech from just inside the door. I put my hand on the fragile, cracking doorknob and quietly let myself in.

As soon as I stepped in the door, Butch and Boomer abruptly stopped arguing to look at me. I observed the shack, taking note of the small, beat up television set in the front of the room where Butch and Boomer sat playing video games, the colour-coded sleeping bags that lay on the floor in the corner of the room, and a small door in the very back of the shack which I assumed was the bathroom. I shuddered inwardly at the thought of the bathroom, trying not to think about the business I'd no doubt eventually have to cover in there. Luckily that instance wasn't now.

Butch leapt up off of his green beanbag chair in front of the TV and approached me forwardly.

"It's about damn time you got back, bro," he cried with a snort. "Took you long enough to grab your fucking hat." I tried my hardest not to wince when he cursed, but it was so very difficult not to. I was just not used to hearing so many swear words in one sentence.

Butch must've noticed my subtle flinch and he folded his arms. He was no longer wearing a shirt, and I averted my eyes from his built, bare chest with some difficulty.

"What? You okay, dude?" he asked me. "You look like you got run over by a damn truck."

I could feel Boomer's eyes watching me from over his shoulder in his place by the television, but he remained silent. I had seen the way his brothers treated him enough to know that he was smart to do so. Poor guy. All they did was pick on him. He seemed like a pretty sweet guy, though. I felt bad. I would try not to be too mean to him while I was posing as Brick.

Speaking of which, I had to come up with an excuse for my lateness—and fast. I blinked several times into Butch's questioning look before I took a deep breath and replied with my best Brick attitude, "Oh yeah, you know, I just got in a..." what was the word Brick had used? Strip? Strap? "...you know a — a scrap on my way home. With one of those Gangrene guys."

I hoped this would cover up for me. I smiled hopefully as Butch eyed me suspiciously.

"Hmm," he pondered my excuse, and I knew he knew I was lying. "That's okay, me and Boomer know what you were really doing, don't we Boom?"

Boomer now piped up as if he was eager to have an input in the conversation. "Yeah Brick, you were back there with that Puff girl!"

I gulped. Had they stayed back to watch the scene? Had they heard what we'd said to each other? Did they know I was a fraud? What would they do to me if they did?

Butch raised his eyebrows, his arms still folded. "So what'd you guys do? Make out? Did you get lucky?"

I crinkled my nose in disgust. Butch and Boomer thought Brick and I stayed back so we could hook up? Oh, please. How ridiculously stupid.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. Butch laughed at me.

"Hey, bro, no need to get all your damn fancy words out or anything. Boomer and I are totally cool with it. Ain't we, Boomer?"

Butch asked for his blue brother's input again, and once more, Boomer piped up like he was honored to be spoken to.

"Sure," he chimed, "Butch even said he thinks Buttercup is hot!"

Boomer started giggling like a little girl. It was funny, but I could see now why his brothers always picked on him. Butch quickly glanced over his shoulder and zapped Boomer with his laser vision, searing a black hole in Boomer's shirt on his right shoulder.

"Ow, hey!" Boomer whined, gripping his shoulder painfully. I was simply speechless. Did I even hear him correctly? Butch thought Buttercup was hot? How absolutely ridiculous. Then again, Butch probably thought anything with two legs and a vagina was hot... I nearly giggled at the thought.

Butch turned his eyes back to me and grinned. "Yeah, so I think she's hot. It's whatever. Boomer's got a crush on ol' Bubbles."

His nonchalant statement was followed by a sharp "Do not!" from Boomer, whose cheeks had suddenly flushed a deep pink colour.

"Hey, you never answered me!" Butch said, pointing at me accusingly. "Tell us what happened back there with Blossom! Damn, she's a looker, huh bro? Did you give her the ol' Brick charm?" he laughed at his own 'joke' and flinched back as if he expected me to hit him for it. When I didn't, he stopped laughing and waited seriously for my answer. Even Boomer was gripping his singed shoulder, pretending not to be listening although I could tell he really was.

I scoffed. "I didn't make out with that... Puff. What kind of fool do you take me for?"

That didn't sound like Brick at all and the other two knew it, too. I really had to work on that. Butch raised his eyebrows curiously and Boomer smiled goofily.

"Aw, come on man, what'd you do, talk?" Butch said 'talk' like it was the most disgusting thing he could imagine.

I stood there in front of the door, barely inside the house, with Butch leaning in eagerly to hear more of the story. I tried to act casual as I pushed past him and made my way towards the red beanbag chair in front of the television.

"No way, we, uh, we didn't even look at each other," I stammered as I sat down, sinking deep into the chair with a nervous sigh. Being Brick was way harder than I thought it would be.

Butch followed my lead and plopped himself down in his own beanbag, still watching me eagerly. "Dude!" he groaned, disappointed. I knew enough guy-talk to know that meant something like, 'Why didn't you tap that?'

Boomer crossed his arms and propped himself up on his elbows, his shoulder no longer bothering him now. He faced Butch and me, and he had a creepy look on his face. I glanced at Butch to see if I should react to this, but Butch seemed to be ignoring his blonde brother. I guessed that it was a normal occurrence for Boomer to look at his brothers like that, so I tried to ignore it, too. After a few seconds of very awkward silence, Butch sighed hoarsely.

"Okay, Boomer, what do you want?"

Boomer sucked in a breath and giggled like a little girl again. "Oh, nothing, but I was just thinking; what if one of us like, you know... asked out one of the Puffs? Like on a date or something?" He trailed off, whispering the last few words of his sentence at the looks on Butch and my faces. His cheeks turned bright pink again and he hiccupped.

Butch rolled his eyes. "Boomer, what kind of a fucking retarded idea is that? We're supposed to hate the PowderPuffs, not date them!"

Boomer squirmed in his seat. "Well, you know, I was just thinking and they seem to be like-"

"Tell him, Brick, how fucking stupid that is." Butch scoffed at Boomer and the blonde boy sulked.

Just then, my sister Bubbles' words from that very morning replayed themselves in my head. "I like them! They're cute! Especially Boomer." Bubbles thought Boomer was cute... and Butch and Brick were nothing but mean to Boomer all the time. I thought this was the least I could do for the poor guy.

I put on my best Brick-brand smirk and shrugged. "Hey, I think if you like Bubbles you should go for it," I said to Boomer, completely disregarding Butch's surprised gasp. "I think she might like you too, judging by the way you guys were totally flirting-I mean, play fighting out there today." I nodded truthfully at my own words. Both Butch and Boomer stared at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"R-really?" Boomer stammered, hugging a corner of his baby blue beanbag.

"No, not really!" Butch interjected, throwing his arms up in the air in protest. "Brick, are you out of your fucking mind? Boomer, he was kidding, you hate that bitch!"

Boomer hung his head in disappointment. I was cross. "Hey, Bubbles is not a bitch! And I know Boomer doesn't hate her, do you Boomer?"

"Yes you do Boomer! I know you do, right?"

Boomer's eyes flickered from me to Butch and back again. He didn't know what to say. It was either get beat up by Butch or by me. Not that I was planning on beating him up, but he knew what to expect. He gulped.

I had to think fast before Boomer was really put on the spot. Then I came up with a brilliant plan. I prayed it would work, swinging myself around to fully face Boomer in false excitement. "Boomer! You're brilliant!" I exclaimed in false praise of the blonde boy. He blinked at me several times.

"Wha-I am?" He stammered.

"He is?" Butch spluttered, poised to punch someone, but I could tell he had no idea which one of us he wanted to hit.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course he is, you... you idiot!" I still wasn't used to the whole playful banter thing. "Boomer's plan is completely foolproof! Why didn't you think of it?"

Butch and Boomer were confused.

"My plan?"

"His plan?" Butch scoffed. "Boomer can't come up with plans; he can barely tie his own shoes."

I threw my arm around my pretend 'brother'. "Well, he sure came up with this one, didn't you Boom?" I was on a roll. I couldn't stop now, or else I'd be dead. I have not the slightest idea what came over me, but right then and there I suddenly had the courage of ten thousand men. The other two were absolutely speechless, but they played along because I was their leader now, and they essentially had no choice.

"Listen," I said to the other two, leaning in, getting ready to explain my ('Boomer's') excellent plan. "Boomer's saying that we should... you know... go after those Puffs and try to win their hearts, because once we've got them, we've got a valuable weakness which we can use to take them down once and for all!"

The other Ruffs' eyes suddenly lit up. Boomer nodded eagerly and I could tell he was relieved.

"Yeah! That was my plan the whole time!" He cried innocently, smiling that same old goofy smile. I looked cautiously to Butch now, seeing if he would take the bait.

He crinkled his eyebrows for a few seconds, thinking it over. Boomer and I held our breath. Finally, Butch shrugged. "It's worth a try," he said casually. "And I could always use another chance for some action!" He winked. I nearly gagged while Boomer burst into laughter. I plastered my best fake smile on my face and nodded.

"Awesome," I said quickly, both relieved and revolted at the same time. What was I doing? I was giving the Ruffs an open opportunity to get with my sisters! Didn't I hear what Butch had said about Buttercup? I wasn't as worried about Boomer, though. He was too gentle and sweet to hurt a fly. But an ambush? Why did I ever suggest that? Butch had been right, surprisingly. What a stupid idea, indeed!

After Boomer and Butch had their laughing fit, they each picked up a remote controller from the floor and Butch tossed one to me. Each controller was connected to a small game console at the base of the tiny television.

"Alright," Butch said seriously. "So we'll get those Puffs tomorrow. But for now, it's Call of Duty time." He turned his gaze to Boomer. "Turn the TV on, Boom." Boomer snapped up out of his chair and tripped over himself trying to turn on the set. A blue screen was presented as he did, followed by the Xbox logo and a home screen.

"I'm leading," Butch said. I had no idea what he meant by that. Call of Duty? Didn't Buttercup have this game? I thought I remembered seeing her play it once. It had guns and war and lots of hideous camouflage. I held the game controller tightly in my hands and studied it. There were about three million buttons on it, plus four on the tops where my index fingers go.

Boomer whined, "You always lead!" and Butch threw a gaze that caused Boomer to cover his singed shoulder and keep his mouth shut.

The game began almost immediately and my character was dead before I knew it.

"Whoa!" Boomer laughed. "Brick, Butch got you good!"

Butch laughed with him, "Better luck next time, noob."

I crinkled my nose as my character respawned. What's a noob? I wondered to myself. After a few twiddlings on the remote, I finally discovered that the right joystick moved my character and the A button shot my gun. I hated gun games. I always lost because I couldn't handle them. Buttercup was always the gamer. She could beat anyone in any game I knew. Bubbles tried playing once, too, but she ran away screaming when a Nuke got her right in the head. My only issue with games such as these was, admittedly, addiction. I got far too into them and I freaked out whenever I didn't win-which was often. So I reluctantly approached this one with great caution...

"Oh!" I exclaimed as my character was mauled for the third time. "Did you see that? I was so close to getting you first!"

Butch and Boomer just laughed again. They were obviously enjoying my struggle with the game.

"Damn, Brick, you sure are off today," Butch smirked as he killed me, yet again. "Even Boomer's crushing you."

At that, Boomer giggled. Again. What was that boy's issue with giggling? I scowled and gripped my controller tightly. These boys were gonna pay.

*Three hours later*

"What!" Butch cried, slamming his controller down on the ground in absolute fury. I jumped up at the same time with a cheer. "How did you beat me! You fucking suck!"

"Ha-ha!" I laughed, tearing Brick's hat off my head and running his coarse hands through his long red hair. It was almost as long as mine and it had come loose of its ponytail in the epic showdown between Butch and me. I did sort of a victory dance. Butch glared at me with complete angst and let a strong punch fly into Brick's right arm. I dropped the controller and grasped Brick's arm, bracing myself for pain, but extreme pain never came. It must not have been a very hard punch, because it didn't hurt me more than one of Bubbles' meager ones. I was aiming to hit him back until I suddenly remembered where, and more importantly who I was. This was so... strange. Here I was, playing mindless video games with Butch and Boomer at eleven at night. I had to get to bed soon, I knew. But I wondered how easy that would be for me here. I forced a yawn and shoved the hat nonchalantly back on Brick's head.

I figured I would give the sleeping thing a shot. "I'm tired," I said bluntly. Well, that could have been better thought out, I thought to myself stupidly. Butch gave me another confused look.

"Dude, it's not even midnight," he said with a laugh. "You can't be fucking tired already."

Then I glanced over at Boomer, looking for help. But Boomer was completely passed out on his beanbag chair. I'd forgotten about him in Butch and my little 'battle' moments ago, and he had simply slipped into sleep during it.

Butch must've seen me looking at Boomer, because he eyed me curiously. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked with an evil look in his eyes.

"Probably not," I disagreed, shaking my head quickly. He inched closer to me.

"Two words." He held up two fingers. "Worm. Duck tape."

Before I could retort that this was in fact three words, not two, he flew over to the door in the corner. I had thought it was a bathroom, but I was mistaken. It was a closet. He rummaged around in there for a few minutes before pulling out a roll of silver Duck tape. He whirled around and grinned.

"Go get the worm."

I gulped. "You-you want me to go out there and... and dig up a worm?" I asked disbelievingly.

He rolled his eyes. "No, fucktard, I want you to pull it out of your ass. YES, go dig one up. Hurry!"

"With my hands?"

"Use your dick for all I care," he mumbled, twirling the roll of duck tape between his hands.

Before he could punch me and actually make it hurt this time, I flew out to the front 'yard' in the forest, got down on my hands and knees and started to dig in a soft patch with my hands. I had no choice. I wasn't entirely sure what Butch's idea of the worm and duck tape was, but I was sure I wouldn't like it. After a few minutes of digging, I came across a fat, slimy worm digging its way through the dirt. I held my breath as I picked it up between my fingers and placed it in my other hand. Disgusting! What could Butch possibly want with this worm? I hoped he wasn't going to duck tape the poor thing to Boomer...

I flew back inside and handed the little creature to Butch, who took it eagerly. I didn't want to play this game anymore. I made my way over to the corner where the Boys' colour-coordinated sleeping bags were strewn around and threw myself down on the red one. It smelled of musk and sweat. It was so gross. Boomer was still sound asleep in the beanbag chair.

"Good idea," Butch whispered as he approached Boomer quietly. "Pretend like you're asleep. Then when he starts bawling we'll act like we had nothing to do with it!"

Bawling? Butch was planning on making Boomer cry? That poor guy. I couldn't watch. Whatever it was Butch was planning on doing, I didn't want to see it. I pulled the smelly sleeping bag over my head and did as Butch had instructed—I acted like I was asleep.

It felt like I sat there for hours, trapped in that stinky sweat cave waiting for Butch to finish his 'plan'. All I heard was the soft rustle of the trees outside. Butch and Boomer were absolutely silent. I was just about to come out of hiding to make sure they were both still alive when I heard a high-pitched, muffled scream. At the same time, I felt Butch pile on top of me and under his green sleeping bag, laughing out loud. I couldn't help but peek out of the cave, one for fresh air, and two because I just had to see what was going on. First I looked to my left, where Butch was also peeking out of his sleeping bag, his face red with laughter. I was afraid to look in the direction of the muffled screams, but I had to.

Boomer was keeled over in front of the beanbag chair on the floor, a strip of duck tape over his mouth. I gasped. I knew Butch and Brick were mean to Boomer, but I didn't know it was this bad. Boomer ripped the duck tape off his mouth with a cry and I winced as the worm fell out of his mouth in a slimy mess of saliva. I could tell he was on the verge of tears as he stumbled over the beanbag and pulled out a water bottle from underneath it. He chugged the water and Butch was still laughing uncontrollably. What sort of sick joke was this? I couldn't say anything, though. I was supposed to be acting like Brick. And Brick wouldn't have felt bad for Boomer. He would have laughed.

But as Boomer say there, the water from the bottle trickling down his red face and neck, trying to laugh with Butch and trying not to cry at the same time, I couldn't do it. I wasn't going to laugh at Boomer for this. It was sick. So I let Butch have his moment of pleasure, sinking back in to bury myself in the strong stench again. But I'd much rather be trapped in that smelly cave of sweat than be forced to laugh at something that was not, by any means, hilarious.