Chapter 23: The Angels

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 0939.

"Mister Blake?" Blossom said to her new 'governor' as she and her siblings had just entered the washroom to start their daily routine.

"Yes, Blossom?" Agent Blake answered with a smile on his lips, a smile that was hiding some impatience, some frustration.

"I don't think I can do this…" Blossom said.

"Yeah…" Bubbles agreed.

"Why not?" Agent Blake asked ignorantly.

"It just feels weird when there's so many of you in the washroom with us," Blossom explained, pointing to the two PTF soldiers with assault rifles standing guard on either side of the washing basin and the female officer leaning against the wall, by the toilet. Agent Blake had left only one officer standing guard outside.

"Yeah, we hardly even have the space to move around!" Buttercup clamored.

Meanwhile, Bubbles had just dipped a hand into the water, and immediately retracted it as though the bathtub was filled with acid. "And the water's cold!" she shrieked in that high-pitched voice of hers.

"Blossom, Bubbles… er… Buttercup, right? Just- Just pretend they don't exist, alright?" Agent Blake tried to get his way.

"But, they're still there," Blossom said.

"And the water's still cold," Bubbles complained further.

Agent Blake sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Fine. Everyone out!" he ordered. But one of the PTF soldiers leaned close to his ear.

"Sir, do you think this is a trap?" the soldier suggested.

"No, I'll be fine," Agent Blake whispered back. "I'll scream if there's trouble."

"You sure?" the soldier asked again.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just go before they suspect something," Agent Blake said quietly. The soldier did as he asked and left.

"Anna, wait, not you," Agent Blake said before pulling the other plainclothes in the washroom back. He puts an arm around her shoulders like a pal, as though introducing his co-worker to his new charges. "Say, Girls, would you prefer my dear friend, Anna, to help you out in here? She's a girl, like the three of you!" The female officer rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms.

"But… I've never met her before," Blossom said. The others were silent, but looking at him, with Buttercup giving him the 'let's just get this over with' look.

"Looks like you're it, sir," Anna the security officer said candidly before wriggling out from under his arm to leave the bathroom, echoing what Blackwater had said in the radio unknowingly. Blake stared after her, feeling a vague sense of betrayal.

Reluctantly, Agent Blake got to work, first removing his outer jacket, then replacing the cold water with something hotter on the insistence of Bubbles. With his face blushing like never before, even in the heat of battle, he helped the Girls out of their party dresses, perhaps a bit too roughly as he was weirded out by something so wrong - strangers, after all, weren't expected to take care of children they hardly knew with an activity so intimate.

With eyes closed, he lifted them into their baths, feeling the instinct to run away as fast as he could, and this time not because he considered them a threat due to their enhanced strength or speed, or resistance to disease, knives and bullets. He had only the flight response, because, this time, guns and combat tactics were useless against the wrongness he felt, made all the clearer, stinging, by the touch of their naked skin against his hands.

"I've got to make a call," Agent Blake uttered, anaemic from shock, as he backed away from the bath, knocking over a stool, making for the door.

"Mister Blake, can I have Ducky?" Bubbles requested before he could leave.

'Shit,' he thought. He searched the room for it, at the same time shielding his eyes from their naked bodies. "Where the he- Where is it?"

"It's on the shelf," Blossom helped. Agent Blake spotted the yellow rubber duck immediately, then feverishly made a grab for it before throwing it like a football.

"Catch!" he shouted, not even thinking. Buttercup managed to intercept it with both hands. All three of them giggled in delight at what they thought was Agent Blake's way of playing and showing affection.

"Now, just let me make that call," he said, face pale, as he made for the door once more.

"But you're supposed to shampoo our hair!" Blossom requested next. Agent Blake raised a finger at them, speechless asking them to wait, before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Is everything alright, sir?" one of the PTF soldiers, who had taken to standing guard in the hallway, asked, truly concerned. They had never seen their fearless lieutenant this way before, looking like he had served a sentence in a communist gulag.

"Just peachy," Agent Blake said, not revealing much. He still had an image to maintain, and can only be thankful that his hair was already gray before it could turn white from shock. "Sergeant Holliday, what's the status of the breakfast?"

"Coming along just right sir. I've laid the foundations for the toast. I am now working on the payoff that is the egg," his man on the other end reported. "Say, I found some milk and cereal in the fridge. Wouldn't it be easier if-"

"No, absolutely not. These are extraordinary circumstances. Cereal and milk might not be effective," Agent Blake decided.

"What about the morning beverage? Should we just water them like mules?" Sergeant Holliday asked over the clinking of dishes and utensils. Agent Blake couldn't get the image of a soldier in full gear putting on an apron and doing house work.

"No! No, no, no!" the security leader almost hollered, still aware that the Girls might hear him. He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "You're killing me, man. Haven't you been paying attention? What have you got, other than milk? Orange juice? Give me something with the best payload," He could hear the stomping of boots on wooden floor, then the fridge door opening.

"Let's see... milk, orange juice. There's coffee powder in here. Say, I think there's a coffee machine if payload's what you want-" Sergeant Holliday suggested again.

"Orange juice. Just go with the orange juice," Agent Blake ordered.

"10-4, sir, over and-" Sergeant Holliday, the designated chef, was about to leave the radio when Blake interrupted him.

"Wait! Tell Corporal Zach to prepare some painkillers for me. I have a feeling that I'm going to need it later," Agent Blake said.

"Yes sir, over and out."

Going back into the bathroom, Agent Blake took a deep breath and approached the Girls, who had been playing in the water, even Buttercup. He willed himself to open his eyes, telling himself that there was nothing wrong here, that it was all just part of his duty - meeting the needs of three lab rats so that everything wouldn't spontaneously combust. There would be no shame, no awkwardness in that.

Picking up a bottle of shampoo and folding up his sleeves, he began foaming them up. The Girls remained still throughout the operation, even Buttercup, who had put on a different facade than before. 'Professor Utonium has trained them well,' he thought as the bubbles began multiplying. But when the soap came next, he simply instructed the Girls to do it themselves. There was only so much he could take.

"Thanks, Mister Blake," Blossom said as the security officer was drying them off with a towel. At least with that, there was a layer of cloth between him and them.

"Don't thank me," he said as he rubbed his forehead between Bubbles and Buttercup's turn. "Just doing what I'm supposed to. Didn't your father teach you to shower on your own?" He had asked this, knowing full well that they were actually just over two weeks old. It was already a bloody miracle that they could even speak to him and comprehend his speech.

"Yeah, but we're still not good at it. Especially Buttercup. Daddy was so much better at it," Blossom explained. "And you're pretty good at it too. I like how you wanted us to learn fast. For our own good."

"Y-yeah," Blake agreed, knowing full well what his intentions were. If they'd just do it themselves, he wouldn't have to do it, and kill himself with the shame and awkwardness he'd tried and failed to distance himself from, in the name of duty.

Then Bubbles began tearing again. Just when he thought he'd distracted her from her father's fall.

"What's the matter?" Agent Blake asked.

"Nothing, it's just…" Bubbles explained all but poorly. "We were sad, but you made us smile and laugh. Daddy said that the outside world is horrible, but… You're not." Agent Blake thought he understood. He'd defied expectations, show her how kindness was, despite having no intention at all of doing so.

He couldn't help but smile at that, very much aware that his own opinions on the Girls was changing. They were definitely several marks, no, a million marks above the kind of monsters he had to deal with before, the kind created by Chemical A to W.

"Alright, enough with the mushy stuff," he said, but gently with his smile still not diminished at all, his whole attitude changed. "Let's hustle up. Can you three put on your own clothes? Your rations- I mean breakfast should be on the table now."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1003.

At the dinner table, the Girls sat down around the table, and Sergeant Holliday, the PTF soldier turned designated chef, set down their plates of eggs benedict before them. Each of them had two, which the ex-cook-turned-soldier had deemed to be more than enough for 5-year-olds. The Girls stared at their unfamiliar dish as if they were strange creatures. Buttercup went a step further and actually sniffed at the thing.

As Sergeant Holliday served the orange juice from a tray like a waiter in SWAT gear, Agent Blake sat down at the head of the table, feeling nervous, his palm and forehead clammy for some reason. The soldier-cook backed away as well, leaning against a nearby wall, his gun drawn once more, afraid that his cooking wasn't good enough that he'd start something - a fear put in him very well by Agent Blake. His helmet, goggles and ski mask had long been removed in the middle of his culinary mission, revealing a pale-looking and slightly gaunt man with black hair. He was normally unsmiling, but for some reason, cooking like this had changed that for him now.

"What is it?" Blossom asked, poking at the toast with egg on top with a fork, as if the thing could be alive. "Daddy didn't cook like this. He'd make us pancakes and waffles and stuff."

"Eat up, Girls," Agent Blake said, waving a hand at the chef responsible for it. "My friend here worked hard on it."

Buttercup was the first to try it, being famished and lacking the manners to hide it well. She chopped at one of the eggs benedict with a fork, splitting it in half, letting the yolk spill like the blood of some animal. Cutting it up further, she lifted a large piece into her mouth roughly.

And she froze after that, her mouth slightly ajar. Sergeant Holliday straightened up, his gun trembling. Agent Blake looked at her as if she might explode the next instant. Outside the kitchen, three other PTF soldiers and most of the security officers watched with anticipation, afraid that this could be it.

Then Buttercup smiled, and chewed, and chewed. "Dish- Ish- Awshome!" she said as she was still chewing, her mouth full, but she couldn't help it. Blossom and Bubbles followed suit, cutting up their own eggs benedict in a hurry so that they could satisfy their curiosity as to what had gained such high praise from the normally morose Buttercup.

Agent Blake smiled at this. Couldn't help it. Someone from the soldier-and-officer crowd laughed, then stopped himself, aware that sympathy of the subjects was frowned upon. Still, Sergeant Holliday's slight smile became a toothy beam, as he seemed pleased with himself. After all, it had been ages since he last cooked in his pops' diner. For the moment, he'd even forgotten that he was supposed to be a grunt working for a shady secret government agency.

"I'm glad the three of you liked it," Agent Blake said, pleased. Then, Bubbles appeared down once more. "Is something wrong with yours, Bubbles?"

"No, it's just… I miss having Daddy at the table," Bubbles lamented. "Can we see him later?"

"I'm afraid not. You'd have to let Corporal Zach work on him," Agent Blake said. "But he's fine. There's going to be some people coming over later to take a look at him. They'll make him all better with med'cine, you know, pills and such. I promise."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1045.

After breakfast, the Girls were dismissed to their room. Agent Blake, however, did not follow them. Instead, he'd crashed on the sofa, waiting for the double dose of aspirin he'd taken to kick in. In his place, he'd sent two PTF soldiers and Anna (as a form of revenge) up. While he had told them that they were there to guard the Girls, he'd told the Girls a different story. They had asked him to play with them and teach them about the ways of the world in their Daddy's stead. He promised instead to send them some playmates until his headache was gone.

When Anna got to the door, she knocked on it. "Come in!" Blossom from inside said. Anna went in, her pistol out. Only Buttercup realized what she was doing with her gun. The others were none the wiser.

"Oh, you brought your toys with you!" Bubbles squealed, referring to Anna's pistol and the PTF soldiers' rifles, delighted at the company. She giggled after that, much to the confusion of the three adults entering the room. Anna simply gestured for the PTF soldiers to take up their posts at different corners of the room.

"Didn't Daddy say that those toys are dangerous?" Buttercup inquired.

"Hey, yeah!" Blossom added, noticing the pistol too. She had been too miserable before to notice such things.

"Yeah, about that" Anna struggled to explain herself. Since the Girls knew, it meant their element of surprise was gone. She holstered her weapon, hiding it in her jacket as she fumbled for an explanation. "Every adult has a gun. We know how to make it safe," she lied, though it was partly true.

"Oh okay," Blossom accepted it without a challenge and went back to her building blocks. Buttercup didn't look convinced, but went back to her soft toys - this time, she'd decided to act like a 'normal' girl, even if she wasn't having fun. She thought that it might bring her… Something, even if Daddy wasn't around as a reward.

With that, Anna quietly went over to Professor Utonium's storytelling chair and sat down. The Girls continued to watch her, as though expecting her to suddenly just up and perform magic tricks.

"What?" Anna asked, noticing that they were looking at her as if she was made of chocolate.

"We're building a tower," Blossom said. She was sitting beside a tall thing made of blocks of different shapes. Bubbles was beside her, holding onto a circular block that was bound to cause another catastrophic failure in the half-finished skyscraper.

"Yeah, so?" Anna shot back, making it a point to temper her voice in case she started something she was looking to avoid.

"Mister Blake said that you came up here to play with us," Blossom explained.

Realization dawned on her in the most horrific fashion possible. "That Blake!" Anna whispered, the way she did far from enough to release the seething anger in her. It meant being in close proximity to the Girls. One wrong move, and one of them could be holding her beating heart out in the open while she screamed her dying breath, bleeding on the floor. At least, that was what she imagined.

"Hold on for a minute," Anna bade them to wait as she stood up and marched outside the door. Blossom and Bubbles didn't quite understand her fully, so they held each other instead, giggling all the way.

"Blake, come in," Anna tuned into her mic the moment she was out the door. "Come in, damn it!"

She could hear a groan coming from the other end of the line. It was Blake, probably still trying to recover from his headache. "Yeah, what is it? It better be good."

"Blake, you son-of-a-bitch!" she screeched into the mic, though she made sure to keep further away from the Girls' room. "I'm totally fine with standing guard, but to 'play' with those lab rats!? What the actual fuck!"

"Relax, Anna. They're not that bad. You certainly didn't mind leaving me with them in the bathroom, did you?" Agent Blake said. Anna could positively feel his smugness right through her earphone, even if he had taken ill from a headache. "Anyway, it won't be long. Just give me half an hour, and I'll join you for a tea party. Over and out and see ya!"

"Blake!" Anna shouted hoarsely into her mic, keeping it down, but she knew it was no use. "Damn it!"

Returning into the room, she resigned herself to sitting next to Blossom and Bubbles, keeping her pistol holstered. From what she read on the reports, her pistol might well be useless against them anyway.

"What about me?" Buttercup with her soft toys said from the other end of the room. Anna thought she could feel her own headache coming on, and she wasn't about to take on the lab rats on her own.

"Sergeant Rutherland, play with Buttercup," Anna ordered one of the Powerpuff Task Force soldiers. Even behind his ski mask, goggles and helmet, she could easily see that he was surprised and confused.

"What? Ma'am, I don't know how," the soldier said.

"Do I have to get you knocked down to recruit? I'm third in command of this detail and I can do that, you know," Anna threatened, her mood already foul from the indignation of this kindergarten bullshit, just simply unable to brook anymore delays to the problem.

"Yes, ma'am," the PTF soldier said. He slung his XM4 carbine on his back, and sat down next to Buttercup. Admittedly, it felt good to rest his legs, even if it was to sit Indian-like on the floor - but at what cost? "So… What do you want to do?" he asked Buttercup. The Girls listened to this exchange with curiosity, and couldn't understand most of it. They just thought, in their own ways, that it was how adults spoke to each other.

"You look funny in all that stuff," Buttercup said, smiling. By that, she meant 'different', but she didn't know the exact way to express that. "I can't see your face. Can you take off all that stuff on your face? Pretty please? I wanna see how you look like."

To the soldier, it seemed as if B-48 wanted to expose him for the kill. He looked at Anna, and when the officer noticed, returned the gaze. She made a 'just do it' face to him, and the soldier, still fearing for his rank and career, complied. Reaching up to his chin, he unclasped the straps of his helmet, removed it, then slipped off his goggles and pulled away his ski mask, revealing his face.

He was a bald man. Black and dark-skinned. Thick nose. Slight wrinkles, aging from many battles of yesteryears. And now, he had to face another battle: to play with a monster in the guise of a kindergartner without getting killed. "How do I look?"

"You look cool," Buttercup seemed taken in by his appearance. She thought he was different. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a bald man. But he looked strong, like her.

"Do you wanna play with cars? I like cars, and explosions," Buttercup asked, again dropping her 'girlish-girl' act, as she believed that she had gained something from her performance.

"Sure, sure," Sergeant Rutherland complied, alarmed at B-48's admission to liking destruction, just more worried about keeping the supposedly dangerous lab experiment placated, so as to keep himself alive. "Whatever you want, girl."