"Bubbles! Go now!" Buttercup screamed as the creature loomed over her. She zoomed past one if its black, leathery legs with her arm held out and snapped it in half.
Bubbles didn't move. She was hovering in the air about ten feet higher than the monster and about fifty feet away, and holding onto the Mayor's arm. The rest of his body wasn't there. Just his arm.
"Bubbles! Come now!" Buttercup tried to knock out the other leg, the one Bubbles should have hit, but it was too late to try and destabilize the monster. The first leg had already reformed, and was stepping on things again. As Buttercup dodged and weaved through the jungle of legs underneath the monster, she remembered that she had another sister. "Blossom! Help me out!"
"Okay…" She was a little more keen to move than Bubbles, but not by much. Blossom flew slowly, and kept staring at the monster leg shaped hole that was punched through Mojo Jojo's torso. It definitely wasn't Mojo' s monster.
Buttercup escaped from underneath the creature at just the right time as to not barrel head first into Blossom. Buttercup was pretty pissed off, more at the monster than at her sisters. They had been fighting the same creature for hours, and they were losing. It was a screwed up situation, and Blossom wasn't helping. "What the heck is your problem, Blossom? It's just another freaking monster, so fight it!"
Blossom stared at Buttercup with huge, hollow eyes. "But we've already failed. The Mayor…"
"Screw the Mayor, we've got a monster to fight!" Buttercup zipped as fast as she could to Bubbles and knock the Mayor's arm out of hers.
"Buttercup!" Bubbles cried in horror. It must've looked insensitive to do that.
"Go now!" Buttercup kind of grabbed her arm and threw her in the direction of the monster.
"Not so hard!" Bubbles yelled back at her. It was a horrible thing to do, to push Bubbles like that, but Blossom wasn't moving, and something had to be done.
Something had to be done, but that something wasn't what actually happened.
After hurling Bubbles, Buttercup spun around and shot a very angry, violent, hate-filled laser at the monster. Way too much of a laser, actually. A lot stronger than was necessary.
Only, it didn't hit the monster. It hit Bubbles.
It hit her on the left side. It shouldn't have been such a big deal, because Buttercup accidentally hit Bubbles or Blossom with some thing or the other every now and then, and they were always fine. But Bubbles screamed. It was a way over the top, that laser beam. Way too strong. She screamed and cried, and then she looked at Buttercup…
Buttercup woke up in the middle of the night panting her ass off. At least, it felt like the middle of the night. There were no windows in this new room, or even a clock, but it felt like the middle of the night. All the lights were off, anyways, except for a small nightlight built into the wall and covered with a thick sheet of semi-clear plastic.
Anyways, Buttercup was panting like a dog and sweating like a pig. All her clothes were sticky from the cold sweat. She ripped the sheets off – white sheets, by the way – and sat upright. It felt like the pillow was attached to her face, and she brought her hand to remove it.
She didn't though, because it was a bandage. For her ear, probably. Buttercup reached her hand down her leg and felt another bandage. She supposed her burns were treated and all. Sometimes those nurse people were so nice, whenever they weren't being complete assholes.
She kind of wanted to take them off, though, because they were all sweaty inside. What a dream. Or what a nightmare. Actually, what a memory. It knocked the wind out of her, to think about it. That's the type of memory it was. The type you hate to remember, but can't forget, yet need to remember so that you don't forget.
Buttercup shook her head to get the thought out. There was no monster or anything right now. Blossom was safe now. She was probably sleeping right now. Bubbles… was probably safe also. Buttercup had no idea where the hell Bubbles was, but she told herself that Bubbles was probably safe. And Buttercup was safe and sound in some hospital, right?
No. Yes, she was in a hospital, but no, she was not safe. At least, she wouldn't be safe in the future. It was a matter of fact. She had signed away her soul to Him for what were essentially peanuts. Buttercup's heart sank as she remembered what had made her burn herself on candlewax in the first place.
She was technically a Satanist. Technically. God, would Townsville get a kick out of that. A Powerpuff Girl, a goddamn Satanist. It was so screwed up. She was literally going to burn in hell after she died for screwing up so badly. Spend the rest of eternity with Him. And it was all her fault. Maybe it was a good thing she was in a mental hospital.
Then Buttercup thought of something else. It was on the same train of thought, but the train had gone off the rails. Her soul belonged to Him now. He wouldn't just get it after she died; he had it now. Like, right now. He could probably squish it in his creepy claw hands if he wanted to. Dread started bubbling up inside of Buttercup like air would from a tar pit. He had her freaking soul. He could do whatever the hell he wanted with it. Cut it, smash it, burn it, shove it up his skirt…
Buttercup started panicking. She had never actually considered what selling her soul meant. It was spur of the moment panic when she had done it years ago, but now she could think about it. And think she did. Now that she belonged to Him, he could control everything about her. Stab needles into her soul and cause her pain, soak it in rum to make her depressed, stick a battery in it and make her hyper… he could do anything. He could probably control her thoughts, too. Was he making her think all this up?
Buttercup sprang out of her bed and for the moment stood motionless next to it. He was making her think all this, wasn't he? Obviously, then, he wanted her to figure everything out, and then freak about it. He wanted her to picture Him simultaneously caressing and mutilating her soul. He wanted her to visualize him literally shitting on her life. But Buttercup couldn't help it, naturally, because it was Him that was directing her thoughts.
Buttercup supposed it was Him that made her do things, too. Like suddenly bolting out of the infirmary and racing down the hallways at top speed. Like screaming at the top of your voice, "I need the peppers!" Like ruthlessly (and though Buttercup didn't like to admit it, with a bit of Chemical X) kicking down random people's doors and ruffing up their stuff to find the peppers. Like punching the freaking nurse people with full force in the face, and making them bleed and cry just to keep looking for the peppers. Like fighting until the tranquilizer reached the tips of her fingertips.
Even when she stopped moving, Buttercup couldn't get Him out of her head. She wanted to so badly, but she couldn't. She was panicking too much. She was going to be like this forever. As far as Buttercup was concerned, Hell came early.
