Three floors.
Four staircases.
Twenty-four rooms, eight on each floor.
Nineteen room not being used.
Five of the rooms being used are as follows:
The bathroom, my new bedroom, the kitchen, the library and the room where Butch never seems to leave.
My bedroom is filthy and extremely disorganized. Must be cleaned immediately. Must also check out library. Under all circumstances, must avoid the room where Butch never seems to leave.
It took a day and a half to clean up her bedroom without the help of her powers. A day and a half in a place that was depressing and empty. A day and a half in a place that was full of dust and stale air. A day and a half stuck by herself with only her confused and angry thoughts to keep her company.
A day and a half without a bath.
Blossom looked at her new spotless room, with the dirty magazines stacked in the cupboard and the junk and beer bottles bundled up in a garbage bag. Lovely and organized, just the way she liked it. She sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose. She still couldn't get rid of the unused, musty smell no matter how many times she tried.
I smell even worse; Blossom sniffed her armpits and grimaced. She desperately needed a bath.
Anything to avoid another talk with him.
It had been three days since Butch and Blossom had had their talk. During the following days Blossom had done everything to try and take her mind off him, Bubbles, Brick (call him Mr. Ginger, idiot), Buttercup and everyone else. It was all starting to make her feel sick to the stomach. Instead she focused on exploring her new home, cleaning up and wandering around in a strange mindless daze.
The bathroom was on the top floor. After double-checking that the door was locked she looked around. The room had faded yellow wallpaper with purple flowers that might have been bright and cheerful in the distant past. Now it was the color of old custard and pale lavender. Blossom cringed.
The tap spluttered when she turned it on and brown water coughed out. Blossom gave the bathtub an angry kick and it started to splutter out slightly cleaner water. She sighed.
Bubbles had always had baths with too much bubble bath in it. She would pour in half the bottle and freak out when the bubbly water started to flow over the top and onto the floor. Buttercup would hit her and of course Blossom would have to be the peacemaker.
Buttercup never took baths. She took quick, two minute showers with unbearably hot water. Brutally efficient, just like her. She couldn't be bothered toweling off either and would sit in the middle of the living room in a fluffy dressing-gown with dripping wet hair and shriveled skin. The Professor would get mad at her for getting the carpet soggy and…
Stop it! Blossom put her hand over her eyes and pulled at her hair. Stop it.
The murky water had nearly filled up the rusty old bathtub to the rim. Blossom turned off the tap and undressed herself. She eased herself into the lukewarm water and flinched as it stung her scratches and bruises. She had always taken nice warm baths too soothe her injuries with some nice classical music playing and a book to read.
Blossom closed her eyes and sunk down until her head was under water. She felt the soft, bubbling silence and sighed again. Blossom felt a still calmness go over her and before she knew it she was drifting off to sleep.
Golden light filling up the room. Bright golden light…no…not light. Golden…hair? Beautiful, flowing golden hair. Look at it all the time. For the rest of time. Beautiful. Where's it going? Why is it going? Crumbling before my eyes. Turning into straw. Turning into rotting, foul straw. Don't! Come back! Why didn't you save me, Blossom? Come back…why didn't you sa…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…
A wracking sob echoed through the room and Blossom woke with a shock. Freezing water splashed onto the floor and her teeth chattered. How long had she been out?
The redhead dried and dressed herself quickly and hurried out into the hallway. She blinked. Butch was staggering around in the middle of the corridor talking to himself with a wine bottle in his hand. His black hair was sticking right up at the back and there was vomit all down his front. Blossom fought the urge to gag as he stumbled towards her, blinking blearily.
"W-w-whhhaatchu fuggin' schtaring b-b-b-bitch?" He slurred and pushed past her roughly and into the bathroom. Blossom felt a strange mix of loathing and pity as she watched the former Rowdyruff puke into the toilet bowl.
"Pathetic," she said to herself, crossing her arms. Butch paused and turned to squint at her, a hateful expression crossing his face.
"Wha' didjo say ta me? Wot didjo say, yer fuggin' Powerpuff slut?" He pointed a shaking finger at her accusingly. Blossom narrowed her eyes and took a step closer.
"I said you're pathetic," she hissed venomously glaring right back at the teen who could hardly keep his balance. Butch's upper lip pulled back from his teeth and his eyes widened in a crazy, angry glare. He dropped the wine bottle and it smashed on the floor. Blossom didn't move.
"Me, pafectic? Ha! Youse ain't dun nuthin' to help fight fuggin' Him! Youse just a whinin' waste o' space! At least I'm tryin' to stop 'im. Wot abou' you eh? Eh?"
Butch gave her one last contemptuous look and staggered past her and down the hall. Blossom stood motionless in the corridor for a few seconds, anger threatening to boil over and explode from her body. She felt razor-sharp needles stinging behind her eyeballs and a ringing pain in her head. Blossom breathed in. The stale air rushed down in her lungs and she choked. She needed some fresh air. Now.
She stomped to the foyer and climbed up the stairs to the trapdoor. She lifted it with ease, not caring if anyone saw her, and found herself in the back of the pub. She looked around and breathed in a deep, satisfying breath of cool fresh air. Immediately her headache dulled.
It was later then she first thought. Outside it was dark and the rain drummed down relentlessly. She took another look around. Blossom hadn't examined the pub very well so far and she was surprised at how clean, warm and welcoming it was. The wooden tiles were polished and the lights sent a pleasant, honey-like glow across the place. Soft jazz music added to the calming mood.
Blossom was confused why such a nice pub was in the rough side of town. Why was it empty as well? The only person was the African-American bartender, reading a book with Boomer the cat in his lap.
"Hello," Blossom said nervously sliding into the stool next to the hulking bartender. He jumped slightly and smiled down at her. She offered him her hand.
"I'm Blossom Utonium," she said and the man smiled politely.
"My name is Guillaume but you can call me Gill," he said in a slight French accent. He had a very soothing voice and for the first time in weeks Blossom felt at ease.
"Would you anything to eat?" Gill queried and Blossom nodded. He got up and disappeared into the back room. She felt Boomer curl around her leg and purr. She bent down to scratch him behind the ears.
"So…how long have you known Butch?" She asked when he came back with a jar of olives and two slices of blueberry pie. He paused and looked around the empty place a few times.
"Keep your voice down," he said.
"Oh…s-sorry," Blossom picked out an olive and played with it nervously. The cat hissed at her feet and bounded off. Gill went over and increased the volume on the stereo. He turned to look at her.
"I've known Butch since he was seven years old. I looked after the three boys when Mojo and Him got bored with them," he explained. The redhead blinked. She had always assumed the Rowdyruff Boys stayed with either Mojo or Him. A slightly naive part of her had imagined that the villains of Townsville spent all of their time thinking up evil plots and committing crimes every minute of every day. It was strange to think that they did other things, that they did normal, human things like anybody else would.
"Of course I never could control them. They did what they pleased. I was just a free meal and a place to sleep that wasn't the streets. But I understand that."
Blossom nodded and took a bite of her blueberry pie. It was rich, warm and delicious. She quickly took another big bite. It was even stranger to think that maybe other families had been destroyed by Him and Otto's Club and not just hers. She had been so wrapped up in her own family's falling apart she hadn't stopped to think that Him wasn't just targeting her but the whole of Townsville. She shivered.
"Has Him…why…why is Him stealing people's souls? Butch won't tell me anything. But I need to know more about what Him's plotting or I can't help. I want to help. I need to help," Blossom said and gave a frustrated sigh. She took another olive and popped it into her mouth. Gill looked at her and crossed his arms.
The only sound was the relentless pattering of rain outside and the jazz music bursting out of the stereo speakers. The redhead and the bartender stared at each other.
"I'd thought you'd have figured it out already. Him's weak. That's why he needs human souls. He's been stealing them for nine years now. Pretty simple. Enough human souls and he'll be to his full strength again," he paused and looked away.
That…that made a lot of sense actually. Why hadn't she figured it out before? Weak? Why is everyone saying Him's weak? How is he weak? He was one of the toughest bad guys she had ever fought when she was younger.
"How did Him lose his strength?" She queried and Gill started to look a bit annoyed.
"That's the last question, right? It's not safe to be discussing this here. You're going to have to talk to Butch," he said and Blossom flinched at the thought of confronting the drunk teen downstairs. After a few minutes thought, she nodded slowly. Gill grinned.
"Townsville is like a prize that criminals all across the globe fight over. Everyone wants to control it everybody wants to be in charge of it. Him has always been the top dog, the one in charge. He's just very quiet about it, he doesn't brag. Not a lot of people know that he's the one pulling the strings," Gill explained. Blossom blinked. She hadn't known it either. She was about to say something about the Mayor but the smarter side of her already knew the truth.
"So Him lets the criminals fight with themselves and doesn't do anything. He knows he can just kill them if they get out of hand or find out about him and try to usurp him from the top position. But I guess one day he must've met his match. Someone who was smart and got him when he wasn't expecting it. I guess after years of watching heaps of idiot criminals, Him let his guard down. And nearly got himself killed."
Blossom smiled to herself. She'd probably never find out who was smart enough to find a way to outsmart Him. She knew whoever it was definitely didn't come from Townsville. As a matter fact Gill probably didn't come from Townsville either. He seemed too clever for that.
"One more question?"
"No."
Blossom sighed as Gill picked up his book and started to read, completely ignoring her. The redhead pushed her unfinished blueberry pie and walked off to the trapdoor. Boomer was scratching and meowing at the trapdoor with a frustrated look on his face. Blossom heaved the door open and they both slid down the stairs and back into the musty-smelling darkness.
What can I do to help? Is there anything? I'm not waste of space. I'm not!
The cat stared up at with its golden eyes and turned around to walk off. Blossom watched as it paused in the middle of the corridor and looked back at her. It meowed and Blossom blinked. She started to follow the scrawny animal as it trotted down the staircase.
Boomer led her to the bottom floor and into the library. This room was around the same size as her bedroom and wasn't exactly what you'd call a proper library. It was mainly made up of two hefty tables piled with thick leather-bound books. There was a rickety chair and a crate tucked into the corner with a few smashed wine bottles surrounding it. It was a sort of sad replica of an armchair and table.
It was hardly the big, warm comfy library with armchairs to snuggle into that Blossom was used to.
Boomer hissed and sprang over to one of the tables, knocking a whole heap of them to the floor in the process. Blossom fought the urge to curse and went over and swatted the feline on the head.
"Stupid cat," she bent over to pick the books up. She paused as she stared at the one of the books that had flipped open. There was a detailed diagram of a terrifying looking creature with one slimy eye, leathery wings and tentacles. It looked like one of the monsters she and her sisters would pulverize on a daily basis.
The text accompanying it was oddly covered with red biro lines. Certain words had been circled or crossed out. To the side were words rewritten in a childish scrawl broken down into syllables
Blossom flipped through the book. It was filled with the same red biro and broken down words. She picked up the next book and it was exactly the same. For a few confused minutes she flipped through as many books as she could. They were all scrawled over with red. Every one of his books, all of them on Demonology was covered in red pen lines.
Why is he writing all over his books? She thought to herself and she looked over to Boomer who was licking his paws on the crate which served as a table. It came to her then, like a lightning bolt out of the blue.
"He can't read. Butch is illiterate," she said to herself straightening up. She started to chuckle to herself. It wasn't surprising. The idea of the Rowdyruff Boys attending school was ridiculous. They wouldn't ever go except if someone forced them too. Even then they wouldn't be bothered doing the work properly.
Looks like I can finally help him with something, Blossom picked up a few of the books from the ground and walked over to the door.
I'll help him research on Demonology.
"Butch?" The redhead yelled as she walked up the stairs. She walked straight to his favorite room, Boomer hot on her heels. The door as per usual, was left half open and Blossom stormed in without knocking.
"Butch I've got an…holy lord…" Blossom dropped the books onto the floor and stared in shock. The lanky teen was lying out cold in a puddle of sick and alcohol not moving. With a shriek, the redhead bounded over to kneel at his side. She felt desperately for a pulse. She gave out a gasp of relief. Butch was fine, perfectly fine.
"Stupid, stupid idiot…" Blossom hissed as she rolled him over to his side. He coughed weakly and muttered something. The redhead recoiled in disgust at the foul smell.
Not only do I help him with his research, Blossom thought angrily to herself. I'm going to have to be his god-damned mother as well.
She picked him up with ease and the filthy teenager cursed inaudibly. Boomer meowed from the door and Blossom looked at him.
"We have some serious work to do," she said and the feline yowled in agreement.
A/N Sorry for yet another long wait. I've been on holidays so this story hasn't been high on my list for awhile. There will probably be another long wait. My bad, I know. Hope everyone had a good Christmas. Peace out! ^^
