Chapter 9

It was just past noon when the five landed safely and unseen in a small alley near Guerelli's penthouse. The Windy City was unusually stormy this afternoon, but this allowed them to zip through the sky unnoticed by civilians, and they were grateful, no matter how ominous the weather seemed to be. Trying their best not to get drenched, they followed Brick though the alley to the building (he was the only one who knew the way). All of the sudden, Blossom was strongly reminded of the mission last year. She and Brick spent a month cooped up in a crummy little flat where the only entrance was through the alley window. The whole thing was like an excerpt from a bad, film noir/gangster/

mystery novel, and Blossom wasn't excited to relive one of the worst periods of her life thus far. Hopefully this charade would be over soon enough.

Within moments, they made it to the back entrance of a rather tall building. Brick knocked, and they were immediately greeted by a huge, bald, baggy-eyed wise guy. He was only dressed in a pair of slacks and a black polo, but he still looked as if he could break a normal person in two. Brick flashed a smile.

"Marty," he greeted.

Suddenly, the wise guy's face lifted. He grinned.

"Fratellino!" he exclaimed. He embraced Brick, who begrudgingly returned the hug. Marty glanced at the others, giving them the warmest of expressions. He stepped out of the doorway.

"Come in! Come in!"

Marty led them through a few plain, empty hallways to an elevator. He pushed the button to the top floor.

"Last door on the right," Marty said. "Knock twice. They'll know it's you."

He waved them off as the doors glided shut. Brick looked behind him at the others. He smirked.

"You guys can, you know, talk or something," he chided.

"I don't think anyone is exactly comfortable with that," Blossom whispered, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Bubbles fidgeted with her long-sleeve hooded sweater as Boomer wiped the rain water off his face. Butch brooded in the corner with a dark look strangely reminiscent of Buttercup. Blossom eyed at Brick expectantly. He simply shrugged and stared ahead at the elevator doors.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors glided open. The five stepped into the hallway, which was just as plain and empty as the others. Brick pointed to the right and he led them to the last door on the right. He rapped on the door twice. There was some quiet rustling, a few footsteps, and the door swung open. Blossom recognized the door man right away: the dark, curly-haired, gangly Tomas, one of the Don's trusted advisors. He happily greeted Brick, embracing him just as Marty had done earlier. He was not as welcoming to the others, though: he merely nodded at them, and pointed to a door on the other side of the room.

Tomas followed them through the elegantly decorated living room, which looked like it was taken straight from an Armani-style "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine. A large, dimly lit chandelier hung above at the center of the room, casting a soft golden glow that balanced the very "mod" interior design. The perfect, almost simplistic-looking furniture was made of pure black leather, and every surface was of stainless steel, all lying on a stark white fur area rug (Bubbles made a point to stay on the black linoleum). Countless paintings, all presumably originals, lined the stylish pinstripe wallpaper, each lit with it's own spotlight. The only window was covered by enormous black velvet curtains that barely waved as they walked past.

Eventually they entered an equally elegant study, complete with more original masterpieces and expensive furniture. A series of chic armchairs made of the same black leather from before were arranged around a stainless steel desk. At this desk sat an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, who wore a simple dress shirt and pressed black pants. He was clearly an attractive young man back in the day, but now his face was hardened by years of a rough life, and an especially rough few weeks. Despite his hardened face, he seemed more than happy to see them, and he stood up to graciously welcome his guests. This was Don Guerelli.

"Ah, Fratellino," he rumbled in his smooth Italian accent. He opened his arms wide, and Brick embraced him, suddenly much more obliged to be affectionate. Guerelli turned to Blossom and grinned.

"Mmm, la bella ragazza," he purred. He took her hand and kissed it. "It's so nice to see you again, Blossom."

"Same," Blossom squeaked. Brick rolled his eyes.

The Don turned to Bubbles and Boomer. Bubbles grinned awkwardly, still fidgeting with her hoodie. Guerelli gently took her hand and kissed it. Bubbles blushed.

"La carina sorella," he said. "Bubbles, ?"

"Y-Yeah," Bubbles stuttered. "Pleasure to meet you, s-sir."

Brick gave Blossom and Bubbles a nasty look. Blossom shot the look right back, knowing well enough that she and her sister were simply uncomfortable in the presence of such a powerful man. Meanwhile, the Don turned to Boomer, who took a tiny step back trying to avoid his gaze.

"Fratellino's brother Boomer," Guerelli laughed. He hugged him, Boomer very reluctantly hugging back. Guerelli then stepped away and turned to Butch, who looked anything but huggable hunched over with his arms crossed tight.

"Butch," the Don said quietly. Butch gave him a heavy look, a mix between sorrow, anger, and something else Blossom couldn't figure out. Guerelli slipped his hands into his pockets and simply looked at Butch.

"Come sta?" he whispered. Butch eyed him and shrugged his shoulders. Blossom noticed his jaw was clenched, his lips tightening into a long, thin line slashed across his face. He winced. Blossom finally understood what that last part of his look was: fear. He looked something like a prodigal son coming back to his father after years of defiance. It was then that Blossom realized that Butch obviously had a past in the underground, too.

"I'm going to help you, you know," Guerelli told him. Butch faltered, his shoulders shuddering a second. "You left us on good terms, why are you afraid to be here?" Butch opened his mouth to speak, but he said nothing. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Hard to come back after all these years, hm?" Guerelli said with a chuckle. Butch shook his head and smirked. Guerelli finally embraced him, too, and afterwards, he gestured all of them to sit. They obeyed, as he took a seat at the desk and looked over to Tomas, who'd been quiet the entire time. Tomas shut the door and took a seat on the loveseat nearby.

"So, we all know why you're here," Guerelli started. He looked straight at Butch, who sat directly in front of him. "We want to get young Bridie back. Tell me what happened."

Brick told everything that happened over the past few days, including the blossom-covered brick through the window, the fight between Butch and Buttercup, the discovery of the ransom video and Bridie's disappearance, and the viewing of the video. He mentioned every detail he could think of from the video, every word the Queen of Spades said. He also mentioned that Buttercup had taken off, and would hopefully join them later. He ended with the desired ransom price for Bridie, and how they were supposed to go about paying it.

"…and she gave us a number on the toy horse and told us to call when we had the money." Brick sighed and leaned back in his chair. Guerelli had listened patiently the entire time, no interruptions from anyone. Blossom pulled the toy out of the backpack she had brought and placed it on the desk.

"That's it," she said. "It was with the tape and the playing card."

"Colette is a funny woman, isn't she?" the Don chortled. Butch snorted loudly.

"We obviously don't have the money, sir," Blossom said. "But we are willing to do everything we can to save Bridie, and we believe you can help us."

"We're not asking for a favor or anything, signore," Brick added quickly. "We're just seeking advice, or some course of action we could take."

"Hmm…" the Don laced his fingers together and leaned back in his office chair. They all sat silently for a moment, awaiting Guerelli to speak.

"Well," Guerelli began. "You said that the girl is with Colette's 'personal assistant,' yes?"

"Yes," Brick replied.

"And only Colette, her assistant, and her – ahem – 'sisters' know where the girl is?" Guerelli questioned.

"Yes," Blossom said impatiently. "But as she said, 'no amount of persuasion will get me to tell you where she is.' We can't just find the Queen and make her give us Bridie back. She wants her money. We have no idea where her assistant is, since he's got Bridie in the first place, and we have no idea where her sisters are—"

"I do," Guerelli smiled.

"You do?" Butch asked, sitting up so fast he made Bubbles and Boomer next to him jump.

"I at least know where Gemma Pietra and Lila Delamer are," he said. "Diamonds and Hearts, respectively."

"Where's 'Clubs?'" Blossom asked, scoffing at the last word.

"Well, I would reason she was the one who kidnapped young Bridie," Guerelli answered. "That would mean she's either close to or in Townsville."

"What?!" Butch stood up."That bitch is still in Townsville with my kid? I'm gonna fucking—"

"Butch!" Brick grabbed his brother and hurled him back into the chair. Butch glared at him, teeth bared, but Brick kept him down with an even fiercer look. Butch folded his arms across his chest and went back to sulking. Brick ran a hand over his gelled hair.

"Sorry, signore," he apologized.

"I'm sure after the kidnapping, Ms. Strike hit the road straight away," The Don continued, politely ignoring the outburst. "No one will know where she is now, except perhaps her other 'sisters.' So I suppose my only advice is to find them yourselves. If you find them, I'm sure your can easily persuade them to reveal the whereabouts of Evan, and of course, your little girl. "

"Alright!" Brick exclaimed heartily. "That's the plan then!"

"Are you sure that would work?" Blossom asked warily. "I'm sure her sisters would tip her off once she discovers out we're trying to find Bridie instead of pay the ransom. That would just endanger Bridie even more, wouldn't it?"

"Well, think about it," Guerelli sat forward, speaking only to Blossom. "Colette wants her money, and she will do whatever it takes to get her money. Naturally, she doesn't want to lose any of it. She went as far as to entrust her only collateral to her personal assistant who I'm sure is stationed miles away from her businesses. She would die before losing any of her assets. This means that no matter how much trouble you five cause, she cannot harm the girl without endangering her well being and most importantly, her chances of getting the ransom."

"So, she won't hurt Bridie because then otherwise, we wouldn't have a reason to give her the money," Brick concluded. "It works."

"That makes sense," Boomer agreed. Bubbles nodded silently.

"Ah, but then she would try harder to hide Bridie, thus making it harder to find her," Blossom argued.

"Let's put it this way," Guerelli said. "Her sisters are barely a step below Colette herself. Taking down her three, equally powerful, hand-picked associates and their armies should be enough to warn her that you will not pay without a fight. If you don't find little Bridie by the time you destroy her sisters, you have no reason but to, well, crash her party in Nevada."

"And we'll kick her ass and make her tell us where my daughter is!" Butch cried.

"Exactly." Don Guerelli smiled.

"So find the other Queens, make them tell us where Bridie is and save her," Blossom stated. "If we don't find her by then, go to Vegas and force Colette to give her back."

"Yes," Guerelli said with a nod.

"This isn't going to be fun," Blossom said gravely. "Or safe."

"You could always rob a bank," Guerelli suggested with a shrug.

"We've already been through that," Brick said, shaking his head.

"You know," Blossom thought suddenly. "Why didn't we just go to the police?"

"Excuse me?" Brick asked indignantly. He glanced at the Don expectantly. Blossom sat up, shaking her head.

"No offense intended at all, sir, but why can't we just go to the police?" she asked. "I'm a lawyer, and I know there are series of procedures they'd go through, we have video proof the indict Colette, and—"

"No." Guerelli interrupted Blossom with a grim smile. "As easy as that would be, you of all people should know that someone as powerful as Colette LeBlageuer is fully prepared against the law."

"How?"

"Blossom, it's as simple as paying off a few judges to butt out," Brick said matter-of-factly. "You should know this, Ms. Harvard-Law."

"What did you call me?" Blossom asked, offended.

"Moving on," the Don said suddenly. Blossom and Brick sat back in their chairs. "Going to the police is out of the question, as is paying the ransom or going to Colette to get Bridie yourself. I also imagine that if Colette is killed, the deal is off, and the child is also as good as dead."

Butch shifted in his seat.

"So, I suggest going first to Gemma Pietra's storage house in the heart of West Virginia," Guerelli said. "I'll have Tomas give you the exact location. She'll be the easiest to take care of, considering she is roughly in the middle of nowhere, deep in the mountains. See what information you can get from her, and if the information isn't substantial enough, take out the warehouse. Might as well show Colette you mean business."

"What about Gemma?" Brick asked. "Do we… you know…"

"No," Guerelli replied. "Refrain from taking out anyone important. The more bloodshed you cause, the more they will be willing to return the favor. The girl simply has to be alive for the deal, not exactly in good condition…"

"What do we do after that?" Blossom asked, noticing Butch shift in his seat once more.

"Once again, if information isn't substantial enough, take care of the warehouse and I suppose just rough Gemma up. Scare her. She'll probably then try to let her sisters know what's going on, so perhaps take out any phone or internet connection beforehand to buy yourselves some time. She will eventually get ahold of Colette, I don't doubt it, but not before you go after Lila Delamer in Texas.

"Lila, of course, runs the gentlemen's club 'Wonderland.' You'll have a hard time finding it, seeing as you literally have to go into a hole to get there."

"Ha," Boomer chuckled. "Down the rabbit's hole to Wonderland."

"Precisely," the Don said, rolling his eyes. He continued. "I've never been there, but I would look around for a large group of people somewhere in the Chihuahaun desert in far west Texas. Lila will have her share of goons, as well as civilians, so you'll have to find a clever way to get to her without causing a scene. If you can't get enough information from her, then rough her up, too. Use your brains. As a businesswoman, she has her own things to worry about, so she might tell more if you threaten her business somehow.

"After this, you should hopefully find a way to take care of Evan. If you get to Evan, you'll probably find a way to get to Bridie. If you can't get to Evan, then you have no other choice but to go to Las Vegas and finally confront Colette.

"I have no idea how it will work out after encountering Lila, so you'll be on your own for the most part. Do stay in contact, though, and I will personally try to help out as much as I can."

"Do you demand any sort of payment?" Brick asked, very business-like.

"Only one thing," Guerelli said. Blossom sensed the sudden drop in his tone; she gulped. "You must get Bridie back first, though. Fratellino – Brick – I think you know precisely what I want."

He stared at Brick knowingly. Brick looked at him, momentarily confused. Then, he understood. He nodded gravely.

"Are you asking for destruction or all out?" Brick asked vaguely.

"I'm asking you to make sure that Colette no longer has the power to call a hit on me or my family," Guerelli stated firmly. "Whatever that means to you. Use your brains."

Brick paused for a second.

"Alright," he said finally. Blossom stared at him, with every intention to question him later with what it meant to him. She was not comfortable killing anyone, especially for a mafia family. That was much too involved.

Brick and Guerelli stood up, the others following suit shortly after. Brick and Guerelli shook hands and exchanged formal farewells. The Don gave his heartfelt good-byes to the others, and Tomas stepped over to the door to see them out. He handed Brick a slip of paper.

"Here's the address," he said to Brick. "Good luck, Fratellino."

Brick thanked him, and the others filed out of the room. Brick turned around one last time to the Don.

"Should we take off now, then?" he asked.

"Of course not," the Don said. "It'll be dark by the time you get there – I would say wait until morning."

"Sounds good," Brick agreed. "Hotel for the night it is."

"Why would you do that?" the Don asked suddenly. He headed to the doorway and put a hand on Brick's shoulder. "You've got the whole upstairs for free."

As promised, the five stayed upstairs in the guest floor of the Don's penthouse, just for the night. The day was incredibly hectic, so the good night's rest was thoroughly welcome. Butch personally wouldn't have minded leaving right away, but he felt he could do with a break, too. The floor itself was significantly smaller and less showy than the downstairs, it was still much better than even the best luxury hotels, complete with room service, delicious food, wonderful amenities, and a room for each of them. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying fine Italian dining and trying their best to relax before tomorrow.

After dinner, Blossom followed Brick into one of the bedrooms, preparing to interrogate him about his plans for Colette. She had no idea what he usually did for his "family," but for the family they were both somehow apart of, anything too dangerous was out of the question.

Brick collapsed onto the bed, kicking his shoes off with two gentle thuds. Blossom casually leaned against the doorway, nonchalantly picking at her nails.

"Hey, Brick?" she started.

Brick barely lifted his head up. He frowned.

"Um… no, you're not sharing a room with me," he said with a laugh.

"Ha," Blossom rolled her eyes. "No, I was just wondering… you don't intend to… well… do anything bad to Colette, do you?"

"Define 'bad,'" Brick said, still refusing to sit up.

"Well," Blossom sighed. She didn't want to come out and say it. "You don't plan on, well… I don't know…"

"Killing her?" Brick said for her. Blossom stopped picking her nails and stared at him.

"That's… that's out of the question, you know," Blossom said. "I won't let you just kill someone."

Brick finally sat up. He looked at Blossom curiously. He started playing with the buttons on his shirt. Then, he asked her a very strange question.

"Do you think I'm a killer?"

"What?" Blossom asked.

"Do you think I've killed people?" Brick rephrase the question.

"I…"

Blossom honestly wasn't sure. She'd never thought about it until now. She seemed to forget that Brick being a mobster meant he probably had to off a few guys. And considering he was, well, evil, he probably has killed. But Blossom had a hard time believing she was currently associating with a cold-blooded murderer. She had never actually encountered anyone who actually killed – Mojo Jojo, Sedusa, Princess, even the notorious Him… no one killed. They got awfully close, but no real murders. No real victims. Even after the countless armed robberies and monster attacks, no one ever perished. Brick could be a killer, but Blossom was not willing to accept it.

"I don't know," she finally answered.

"Do you want to know?" Brick asked. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He headed to the walk-in closest and grabbed a hanger. Blossom looked down, contemplating his next question. She suddenly wondered how this ended up twisting around – she felt like she was being interrogated. Brick stepped over and looked down at her, awaiting her answer. Blossom felt a chill run up her spine as she slowly looked up. Their eyes locked. She never realized how much taller Brick was compared to her – they never actually stood next to each other, did they? She had to admit: right this second, she had never been more intimidated by her super counterpart until now.

Brick smirked. Blossom took a step back.

"Look, if you don't mind, I want to sleep," Brick said, nudging Blossom out of the way and grabbing the door. He grabbed the door and shut the light off. He grinned. "In the mean time, you have something to think about, don't you?" He shut the door.

She certainly did have something else to think about now.

Bubbles and Boomer were planted in living room watching cartoons, just as they had the day before. Butch came out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, furiously drying off his hair. He stood near the couch, watching the two sit next to each other in dead silence. Butch snorted and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his pocket.

"You know, maybe if you guys tried talking about shit you wouldn't have this awkward silence problem," he remarked. With that, he headed over to the large slanted window, opened it, and stepped outside.

Bubbles grabbed the remote and turned the television off. She stared at the window, the cool, post-storm breeze drifting through the screen. Boomer rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He sighed.

"I guess he's right," Boomer said quietly. "Maybe we should talk… about… I don't know…"

"Wait," Bubbles said, holding up a finger. Boomer eyed her. Bubbles suddenly stood up and drifted to the window, her finger still floating in the air. She listened carefully, but for what, Boomer didn't know. Then, she slid open the screen and hopped out, too. Boomer huffed. Just his luck, just when he finally wanted to break the awkward silence between him and Bubbles, she had to go run off. Not really knowing what else to do, he glided over to the window and glared out at the city below.

It had stopped storming hours ago, and now the sky was mostly clear. The rain made the air very cold, but it didn't seem to bother Butch, who was just sitting along the slanted rooftop, a cigarette rested between his fingers. He stared off ahead, barely noticing Bubbles crawl up the slick metal roof and sit next to him. She watched him, pulling her knees up to her chest and ready to do what she did best: listen. He sure seemed like he needed someone to listen to him.

"You okay?" Bubbles asked softly. Butch flicked his cigarette and took a long drag. He exhaled with a puff of smoke.

"You know," he started. "Back in New York, she and I would fight all the time. Almost every day. Said some awful shit to each other, too, let me tell ya. It was worse when Bridie was little because she would cry and I would yell and she would scream and it was just… it was just bad. Usually I'd end up leaving, normally going to the bar a few blocks down. I'd have a few drinks, cool off, and in a few hours I'd come home.

"Every now and then, it was just kiss and make up. Sometimes, though, I'd find her up on the roof, kinda like this. We had a penthouse, too, but nothing as fancy as this. Anyways, she would be up there just… looking out. She could be up there for hours, too, just… staring out at the city. I don't know why. I never understood why."

Bubbles smiled.

"She did that at home, too," Bubbles said. "If things got really bad she'd run off downtown and just sit somewhere. She actually had a spot up on this one building near town hall. Usually that's where she would cry – you know, big bad Buttercup who refused to cry in public. I followed her once or twice. It's just… I think she finds comfort in it somehow."

"I think I get it now," Butch said, taking another quick puff. "It's funny how when everything gets all shitty and, like, you hit a wall or something… everything else is still going. The world don't stop. It's actually kinda irritating and comforting, because when you want everything to stop, it doesn't. Not for you. Not for anyone. But at the same time, because it keeps going, maybe it's like it's saying you should, too. And you know, being up here is like being apart of something… something bigger. You can see all these people, all crammed together into this small area of the world just going about their lives whether they like it or not. It's like one, big, twisted support group. It doesn't matter if we hate each other or not, we're still here together, living and… going. Together… and going."

Bubbles looked at Butch. She smiled. Butch finally turned to her, one eyebrow raised. He took his last puff and crunched the cigarette on the roof.

"That's deep," Bubbles said. Butch laughed. He stood up.

"Yeah, I know, who'd've thunk? Stupid, immature, fucked up Butch."

"Hmmm, I'd've thunk," Bubbles said sweetly. "If Buttercup has her poetic moments, why shouldn't you?"

Butch smirked and ruffled his hair. He looked off into the distance, his eyes softening sadly.

"She should be here," he said quietly.

"She should," Bubbles agreed, standing up. "But if she's not either at home or on her way here, you can bet she's probably consulting her personal support group back at home."

"Yeah… probably…"

Miles away from Chicago, right back in Townsville, a cold and tired Buttercup sat on the very edge of one of the tallest buildings in the city. It was freezing, and having forgotten to change, Buttercup was still in her pajamas, which was nothing more than pajama bottoms, a tank-top, and undergarments. She didn't even have socks or shoes. She shivered, her windswept black hair tickling her neck in the frosty breeze. She didn't care. Right now, there wasn't a lot she did care about. The most important things were gone, anyway.

What was she supposed to do? She didn't have the money to pay. She didn't have the knowledge to find her daughter. She didn't have the emotional stability to handle the situation rationally. She knew this, at least. Really, though, she didn't have anything. Anything that actually mattered.

"AGHHH!!!"

Buttercup heaved a great sob… and she wept. The tears poured down her face, burning her already red and chapped cheeks. She wept, and wept, and wept. It wasn't even the sadness that got to her. It wasn't even the terror of losing her only child. There was just nothing – she – could do. The helplessness… the absolute powerlessness of the situation. She may as well have lost every super power she possessed; better yet, she may as well have been back in Him's lair, literally standing on the very edge of oblivion, believing there was nothing else to do but jump. Unfortunately, this time wasn't just a mindfuck. She really was in a battle where all her greatest weapons meant nothing, could conquer nothing, could defend nothing.

She might as well be nothing. She failed… as a partner, a mother, and a defender of lives. What was there to do now?

Buttercup sniffled, her body still shaking violently. What was there to do now? Not a lot, really, except maybe go home. Or maybe just go to sleep.

Or maybe…

Sure, why not?

Buttercup wiped her face and stood up. She floated an inch or two off the edge of the building, searching for the exact place she wanted to go. A small, dingy place on the corner of 5th and Main, a place she remembered was always full of hooligans and petty criminals who dined on bitter black coffee and the worst burgers in town. A few years ago, she sat on this very building looking for some trouble to get her mind off things. Now she wanted to do it again.

In a single lightning bolt, Buttercup zoomed off towards the nasty, grimy-windowed, green-paneled, danger-friendly "Gritz Café."