A/N
Wooh, Chapter 14 already? Hm…
Thanks for reviewing/favoriting/following!
Ppgrulz123: I leave you hanging 'cuz I'm mean. Just kidding. I think? Haha.
Animeskullgirl16: Honesty IS the best policy! ;)
Rev-yon: :)
Meli31295: Awesome! Thanks :) I'd hoped I'd get some comments saying that it was good.
Cross Your Heart For Me: Thanks!
Anonymous Reviewer?: Awww, thanks! I can't wait for you to read it!
Vwvanlover: Thankies! :D
FKS: There will be romantic moments. Soon. I just can't guarantee when ;)
Canzie: Oooh… call me morbid, but those words make me lick my lips sometimes. Hehe. Lacerated gives me the ooey-gooey feeling.
xXMidnightFireHeartxX: Exactly! But in a way, Boomer did what he thought was right. Except for the break-Bubbles-bones part ;)
Bubblycutie: I don't think it's going to be real RomeoxJuliet-centric, but I'll make it intense with the relation-ships thing. Somehow ;)
Wildone97: Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver! Sorry the 'back to silence' thing you said made me think of that =3. You'll get to read the dialogue between Boomer and Brick in this chapter.
Mew Pancake: Thank you, thank you, thank you! =D
Shewolfgang: It sounds pretty terrible, but I'm glad you're addicted! Haha, I think this is one of the only circumstances where I'll consider it awesome to be addicted. And thanks!
Lydia: You'll see some Butch/Buttercup action soon. Hopefully. Thanks for reading/reviewing!
Jenaca: Haha, I'm writin', I'm writin'!
She-Pirates-Kick-BUTT- I don't know if they have fingers… but that's a good question! In my story I guess they do. 'Cuz they're people. And most people have fingers… And as for the Bunny question, I don't think I'll write her into the story, I'm sorry! I just don't know how I would incorporate her into this in a non-lame way….
And thanks to: greenluvr14, Cross your Heart for me, Yasz1221, Lulu Takashine, Pikalover10, shewolfgang, Mew Pancake, jenaca, and She-Pirates kick-BUTT for favoriting/following! (One again, if I failed to mention your name at all, it was a total accident!)
So, I realized that I have shown everyone what they were doing to the town on TV, but I haven't written a chapter from the perspective of one of the boys WHEN they're "out on the town."
So that's what this chapter's about.
ALSO… I'm going to do ONE more of Butch's dream before I make this story really heat up and stuff. It's going to be just with Butch and his wife, though. I'm not gonna put Beck in this one, although I lubb him berry much! So, it would be really freaking awesome if you could maybe share some of your ideas about that? I'd give you full credit for it if I used it, or even a fraction of it!
THANK YOU! YOU ROCK!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Powerpuff Girls.
Chapter 14
(Boomer's POV)
I opened the door of the gas station and let the early morning light of day filter into the dusty room. After a quick breath of fresh air, I pressed my back against the door and moved aside, holding the door open for Butch as he passed by me on his way to his jeep.
"And remember," I called over to my brother who was standing by the door to our base camp, "Don't flirt with Blossom too much!"
Brick's face turned a brilliant shade of red, and, aware of the heat spreading through him, he flipped his red hood up over his head to shadow his face.
"Whatever, I don't, and you know that. I don't even like her," I heard his harsh reply, "Just be back before noon. I wanna be able to show the girls the news."
I heard the crackle of tires against road and I turned around to see Butch pulling up in front of the door. He rolled down the passenger window and leaned over so that his face was more visible.
"You're just jealous because we called nose-goes and you were too slow," He scoffed, rolling his dark green eyes.
While it may not have been the most appropriate way to vote on whom went to torture the people of Townsville today, it was fun. It was our way of gloating when one of our brothers was too slow to react.
Obviously, today Butch and I had been the quickest. Butch had called it, I had responded, and Brick had stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.
"No!" He growled, "I have to go! I always go! Butch, you stay behind this time."
Butch groaned, "But I stayed behind last time! Besides, you didn't do nose-goes today, and that's our final judgment."
"You know what?" Brick muttered, "Rock, paper, scissors. That's what decides it today."
Butch smirked. We all knew that he was a champ of rock, paper, scissors. He could be so sly, and he was a pretty good judge of character, which made him even better at the game. He said it was all on the facial expressions. Because of his ability to recognize them, he always knew what you were going to call.
My two older brothers had done a quick game, and Brick had grimaced when Butch had won: Paper to Rock.
"Two out of three," Brick commanded, and Butch shrugged. Of course, my dark haired brother won. Yet again. This time, though, it was Scissors to Paper.
"Four out of five?"
"Forget it, man. I won. Let's go Boomer," Butch had said.
And that's how it ended up how it was now.
Brick's hood shook back and forth, and I imagined the annoyed look on his face. "Fine, you two go. Have fun."
I smiled my best angelic smile. "We will!"
Brick waved us off, and he disappeared back into the base camp room.
I looked over my shoulder and into Butch's jeep to see a dangerous look in his eyes, and a devious look on his face.
"Ya ready?" He said coolly.
I chuckled. "Yeah." Sure, I was deceiving my brothers by having a huge crush on the enemy—Not just a crush, but also almost a relationship. Sure, I was considered the most sensitive out of the group. Yeah, I was "sweet", but that didn't mean I didn't still get a kick out of frightening people. Mostly the people that judged those who weren't the same as them. So, in a way, I realized, I was sticking up for Bubbles because she was ridiculed for not being normal.
I jogged the short distance to his jeep, swung the passenger door open, and I heaved myself up into the seat. I slammed the door, and then Butch revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.
Once on the highway, Butch gave me a smug look and reached over to adjust the volume on the radio. I noticed that he was slowly turning it up to slowly make my distaste for his music grow.
The volume passed 15, 30, 45…55… Although no music was currently on, I knew that would change and my eardrums would be blasted to bits in seconds. When the speakers had reached the level he thought to be "appropriate", Butch pressed the "on" button.
Immediately, his satellite radio lit up in green and yellow computerized lights and it showed the words: 80s on 08. A song began to blast through his speakers, and, just as I had predicted, my ears lost their hearing for the first five seconds I started hearing the music. When I had finally tuned in to what was happening again, I became aware of the song.
To my dismay, Benny and the Jets by Elton John had only started to play.
"Oooh, I love this song!" Butch yelled over the already louder-than-needed speakers. He began to sing with the lyrics so loudly and so out-of-tune, that I had to cover my ears to keep my sanity.
I had almost successfully drowned him out, but then when he hit the part where it said: "You know I read it in a magaZIIINE" and the horrible sound hit me again.
"Butch!" I screamed, but I only earned a booming laugh from him.
When the song ended, we had finally passed the "Now entering Townsville" sign. For once in my life, I was thankful that Butch always went so far over the speed limit, and that we reached places faster than normal.
I took this time to actually drown my brother out without using my hands or anything, and I looked out the window at the town.
It had changed a lot in the past few days. For one, nearly a forth of the town was gone. The only things left of some buildings was a few piles of soot, and some other little debris.
Wow. It was amazing what panicking people and laws could do in only a few days.
Butch picked the parking lot of a bank to park in, and he turned the radio off. The space inside the jeep became solemn, and almost… dark.
I remembered last night when I had found him in the bathroom, throwing a Butch-fit, so I liked to call them. He didn't have them often, but when he did, you never forgot.
I had been sleeping on the couch in Base Camp, brooding over the events of the day, when I heard a loud crash from the bathroom. Unhurried, I looked over the armrest of the couch and at the TV, finding that the girls were still in the places where we'd put them. Brick was dozing in the recliner behind the wooden desk (to make sure that I wouldn't go see Bubbles again, no doubt. I didn't know for sure if they knew, but I had a pretty good idea that they did.) The only culprit this time was Butch.
I had looked over at my oldest brother. "Do you hear that?" I whispered.
Brick shrugged. "The toilet probably broke or wouldn't flush or something. He taught it a lesson."
I wasn't too happy with his nonchalant dismissal, and so I got up off the couch to go see what the commotion was.
I had pushed open the bathroom door to see my brother tearing massive holes into the cheap white countertop of the bathroom, his body covered in sweat, and tears streaming down his face.
"Butch!" I screamed, but he couldn't hear me. He was tossing shards of glass from the mirror he'd broken away from him.
I'd done the necessary thing; I'd gripped him from behind so tightly and securely that he couldn't do anything stupid.
"Dude, stop!" Were the next words that came from my mouth.
I held my older brother's panting body, feeling the tremors that spread through it. I couldn't believe it. He seemed almost… afraid.
He lunged forward again to finish wrecking what was left of the counter, but I yanked him back again. "DUDE!"
I realized that he wasn't fighting his hardest, and that I was grateful for. I couldn't restrain him if he was giving it his all, in the tired state that I was in.
"What's your deal?" I demanded. To my astonishment, he stopped struggling. He answered me in a quavering voice, "I don't know."
I let go of him, different decisions and outcomes running through my head. I could do the brotherly thing, and help him through whatever was troubling him, or I could do the RowdyRuff Boy thing that I was supposed to do and totally ignore it and let him finish destroying the only men's room we had.
In the end, I chose the thing that I should do.
"Come talk to me?" I offered, and I inclined my head towards the door.
I led him over to one of the little side rooms that we used to sleep in, only to discover that he had been using this one to sleep in that night. The small mattress that he had used had a few holes in it, and I could see some of the box springs. I guessed that he had been gouging holes in it with his nails while he slept.
I opted to plop down on the couch in the room instead, and Butch sat to my left on the bed, trying to avoid my direct eye contact. So, I turned toward him.
"What's wrong?" I growled.
He shook his head. "Nightmares."
I raised an eyebrow. "Nightmares? Making you this upset? I thought you liked nightmares."
"Yeah," He sniffed, "I like the ones with actual terrifying things that would make you pee your pants. Those stupid old terror movies that no one watches anymore because they're too vulture, or whatever."
While I wasn't Brick, I had to correct him. "Vulgar."
"Whatever. Aren't you supposed to be helping me?"
I shrugged. "Are you going to let me help you?"
He shrugged in response. "There's not much that you can help with. These dreams are so weird… I can barely remember anything that happens in them."
I considered this. "Tell me what you do remember."
He bit his lip, and was silent for a few minutes. Finally, his dark green eyes darted up toward mine. They almost looked unnatural in the darkness of the room.
"Well, in every dream I have, they seem like they could be true. What do they call it? Futurama?"
"Futuristic?" I offered the word.
"Yeah, that. Well, every time I'm in the weird little dream world, I'm always in some weird house I've never seen before. In the first dream—"
"Wait, what? You've had more than one dream?"
He nodded. "I have them every time I go to sleep."
I bit my lip in thought. "Keep goin'."
"Okay, well, I'm always in some weird house that I've never seen before… and in my dreams, I'm married. And I have a kid," He told me, his eyes wide with caution.
I snickered. "You? Married?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. And I can't control my emotions. It's like watching through a TV, even though it's my life. And I can't control anything. I can FEEL my emotions, though. I really love them. That family."
"What does your wife look like?" I asked him, a bit curious. If my suspicions were correct, then maybe…
Butch screwed up his nose. "That's the problem. I can never remember."
"Then what does your kid look like?"
"Beck?"
"Beck?" I repeated. Strange. That name fit a kid of Butch's.
"Yeah. In my first dream, he was like… thirteen. He looked like me. In my second dream, he was like seven, and in my last dream, he was barely one. He always has green eyes and black hair. His eyes are always a little bit lighter than mine," He told me.
"But are they darker than Buttercup's?" I asked him, trying to get my suspicions out there. Maybe if he thought about the dark beauty in the other room, he'd realize that she might play a part in these ominous dreams of his.
He tilted his head to the side. "Buttercup? What does she have to do with this?"
I nearly laughed out loud. My brother: so clueless.
"Just answer the question please," I growled, a little irritable.
He frowned, but then his face became thoughtful. "I dunno," he said after a short pause, "I guess it's like a… forest green color? But what does that have to do with it? Green is green."
"If you say so."
"Are you gonna help me or not? 'Cuz so far none of your advice is helpful. What the hell are these dreams?" He demanded.
"Psh. I dunno. Maybe they're what you wish would happen?" I guessed.
"I wish I was 30 with a wife and a kid?" He scoffed.
"You could. Deep down, maybe?"
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. We both know I don't."
I got up from the couch, deciding that he wouldn't take my help if I gave it to him. I couldn't tell him how he felt. I could with Brick, he was open-minded, but Butch had to realize by himself or not realize at all.
"Where are you going?" Butch growled.
I had shrugged, then yawned. "I'm goin' to bed. We'll hit Townsville again tomorrow, Brick says."
He lay down on the bed, and he folded his arms behind his bed. "A'ight. I'll see you in the morning. I don't think I'll be able to sleep again."
This worried me, but I didn't let this show on my face. "Okay. Good night."
He scoffed. "Hardly."
And that was the last we'd spoken until the morning. Or really, now.
This short moment of solemnity in the car had made me recall the events of last night, but then I caught Butch giving me a glare, and I wiped my thoughts clean, ready for new things.
"Let's hit the guys in the bank first," Butch suggested, taking his keys out of the ignition, depositing them in the pocket of his cargo pants, and opening his door.
I shrugged, and I unbuckled my seat belt and hopped out of the jeep. "Fine with me."
Before going into the bank, we opened up his trunk and took out a neon green sweatshirt and a sky blue sweatshirt. They were both frilly looking with a few hearts on them, and this was our goal.
We put them on, and I grimaced as I realized that they fit a bit tightly, but I just sighed and pulled the hood up over my head, ready for action.
I turned to Butch who was currently taking a shower in baby powder. "Light colors, remember?" He sighed.
I muttered a curse under my breath and took the baby powder, drowning myself in its innocent scent.
We made our way across the parking lot, smashing a few windows and slashing a few tires of a few of the customer's cars before we finally got to the front of the building.
Once there, Butch opened his mouth and let out a yell so loud that it couldn't be heard by the average human ears, and it shattered the glass front of the bank. I heard the alarm begin to sound, and a few screams of desperate people.
We rushed into the bank, and I made myself glow dark blue—although it looked light blue because of the baby powder that faded it's hue.
"Everybody freeze!" Butch yelled in a feminine voice that, to my surprise, sounded a lot like Buttercup's voice.
Everyone did as "Buttercup" said and put their hands on their heads and crouched down.
I smirked in satisfaction, and we stalked over to a blonde receptionist in a navy blue business suit with makeup applied a bit too heavily.
"Give me twenty thousand dollars. Right now," I demanded in my own feminine voice.
"Twenty thousand?" The receptionist questioned, "Why twenty thous—"
But she didn't get to finish, because Butch cut her off sharply as he fired a few lasers from his eyes at the stack of papers in front of her, burning a hole through them and the mahogany desk that she was sitting at. She screamed.
The lady was a bit too hurried as she rushed to the back of the room and returned a few seconds later, stumbling over her feet, with a silver suitcase.
"Here! Take it all!" She begged, and she shoved it in my sleeve-colored hands.
I pushed it back at her. "I want twenty thousand. Exactly twenty thousand."
And so I made her carefully count the hundred dollar bills in the case until I had exactly 200 in my hand. I saw Butch bite back a chuckle. She thought that the counting of this money was keeping all of the people in this room alive—that all the pressure was on her shoulders. In this situation, she wasn't the hero… just the lady that gave in too easily.
With the 200 bills in my hands, we smashed through a few cubicles, slammed a few people against the walls, and exited the gas station.
After that, we flew around town for a few minutes, just to say that we owned this town. Err—the PowerPuff Girls owned this town.
By the time we circled back to Butch's jeep, a sufficient amount of people had already begun to gather around the semi-ravaged bank. A few news vans were already parked in the parking lot, and some cameras were already rolling.
I caught sight of a news lady gravely stating facts into the camera when we landed, and was aware of the camera passing over the lady's head to catch a shot of me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Butch wave at the camera, and he pressed his hand to his mouth and blew it a kiss. You couldn't see his mouth of course, but it didn't matter. The point was made across.
We realized that if Butch pulled out his keys and started the car, we could be followed and figured out, so we simply heaved his car over our heads together, and we began to fly off toward the gas station with it.
Once in the sky, I heard Butch snicker and I looked down to see the people below us staring in amazement as we used our superhuman strength to calmly cross over the panicking city of Townsville with a few thousand pounds.
When we were far enough away, we decided to land and begin to drive again. We landed in a grove of trees a few feet from the highway, and I suggested to simply pushing the car onto the highway again, but Butch shook his head and flashed me a smile as he whipped off his hood.
"Naah," He chuckled, "I haven't showed you off-road driving, have I?"
Actually, he had. It hadn't gone well. When the air bag had gone off, the weight of my body had popped it immediately. I hadn't gotten hurt, of course.
I just groaned and got in the car as he inserted the key into the ignition and pressed the pedal to the metal.
To say the least, it was a pretty bumpy ride. We nearly ran into some trees, barely dodged a few deer, and we hit a few rocks, but we finally pulled into the parking lot of the gas station about fifteen minutes later.
This time, though, I hadn't had to listen to 80s music. This time, he made me listen to The Beastie Boys.
Butch parked in his customary spot by my silver Mazda convertible, and then he jumped out of the jeep and slammed the door behind him. I followed suit, although I didn't slam as hard as he had.
He rushed towards the gas station, throwing over his shoulder, "Let's see if Brick already has 'em watching what we did!"
I noticed that he seemed a bit too excited to see the look on the girls' faces. I couldn't help but wonder if he was excited to see ONE face more than the others.