Chapter 35: Mayor Wilford (Part 1)
The City of Townsville. Central District. City Hall.
11 DEC 1988. 1728.
"This is so cool!" Buttercup exclaimed time and again throughout the short ride, as she watched the scenery outside zooming by as if they were on a rocket.
The ride to City Hall did not take long, partly because Agent Blake had decided to 'drill' the Girls' speed transport convoy, to show them exactly what their rides and drivers were capable of. Agent Blake had even ordered the convoy to turn on their sirens and the red-and-blue lightbar on the roof of the sports cars, ensuring that there were fewer vehicles slowing them down. Buttercup would have been jumping excitedly on the backseat had she not been tied down by her seat belt - her siblings were quite taken by it as well, though they saw it more as an amusement park ride than an appreciation for a speed demon of a car. Professor Utonium, with his nervous tics, frantically looking forward and outside the windows and shifting on his seat, was the exact opposite of that, though he wasn't afraid for himself.
Thankfully for the professor, It didn't last very long. At the City Hall area, the three-car convoy joined a pack of its own; humvees with heavy machineguns manned and mounted on top were waiting for them, eternally vigilant for any possible signs of an all-out attack or assassination attempt. Police cruisers and SWAT vans surround the City Hall. Numerous police barriers were set up, and there was a cop or police SWAT officer every few yards. Teams of snipers line the roof of the City Hall, their watchful eyes forever scanning the surrounding pavements and buildings. The war zone they were in excited Buttercup further. The sight of all those guns and gruff men with the license to kill was her idea of a winter wonderland.
When the three Girls and their caretakers exited their Lamborghini, they were immediately surrounded by Powerpuff Task Force soldiers and USDO SWATs, some whom the Girls knew, like Agent Blake, most of whom were strangers. It had been peaceful inside their transport, and the moment they were out, they were surrounded by a cacophony of people speaking, cars grinding asphalt and sirens in the distance.
"Bravo-four-seven, four-eight and four-nine are secure, over," one of the PTF soldiers reported into the radio.
"Confirmed, not even a Meltdown-1, over," another of the PTF soldiers reported into his radio.
"Sir, snipers confirmed no Tangos so far," another of the PTF soldiers reported to Agent Blake. "Riot cops are pushing back civilians and journalists."
"No fly zone maintained, sir," yet another said to Agent Blake.
They were led into the City Hall, where they passed through a massive portal consisting of two giant doors flanked by USDO security officers. Inside, they entered the lobby area, where a mix of TPD and USDO officers guarded every door there was.
Liaison Head Bellum and one of Mayor Wilford's aides were talking in the centre, where numerous tables and seats were arrayed in strict rectangular patterns. As Professor Utonium, Selicia and the Girls approached them, the mayoral aide approached them first.
"Mister and Missus Utonium, I presume?" the aide said. "I'm afraid the two of you will have to wait here." He spoke something into a mic hidden in his tuxedo. Immediately, eight men in black suits entered from double doors on the opposite side of the City Hall entrance, half of them looking like they were wrestlers, while the other half weren't too shabby either. "The Mayor's bodyguards will take it from here."
"Wait, we're responsible for the Girls' security. At least a couple of us should follow them up," Agent Blake said.
"No. You're in his town, buddy. His rules, or you don't stay here for long," the head of the Mayor's bodyguard replied, and firmly. He was a tall, square-jawed and tough looking man who looked like he was a secret service agent, what with his shades, earphone and black suit.
Professor Utonium got down beside the three Girls and they crowded around him. He looked them in the eyes. It felt like that moment when he's sending Bloome to kindergarten for the first time. He couldn't see their faces well, what with their helmets and goggles in the way, which cast shadows on their faces. The slight glow of their irises were a little more obvious then, a little reminder that they were special, meant for this.
"Girls, the three of you will have to go up there alone," the professor said to them, trying not to look worried. Extreme as the USDO was, they were largely incorruptible, and wouldn't deal with a figurehead with a black spot on his portfolio - which meant that this 'Mayor Wilford had to be trustworthy. At least, that was what's on paper. "You're about to meet a new friend. He'll be nice to you, so be real friendly to him, okay?"
"But I can't go on without you," Bubbles blurted, her wide eyes and tight grip on the professor conveying everything in her mind. "What if- what if- Dad, I'm scared!"
"Don't be, Bubbles, you're stronger than you know," Professor Utonium encouraged, then turned to Blossom, who was clearly marked by the bow she had attached to her helmet, if the color of her SWAT gear didn't give her away. "Blossom dear, take care of your sisters for me, okay?"
"Will do, Daddy," Blossom promised, a smile on her face, though deep inside, she, too, was nervous and afraid.
"Pfff! I don't need her to take care of me!" Buttercup declared. "I think I'll have to take care of them instead."
"Attagirl, Buttercup," Selicia praised the toughest among them. "That's my strong little girl." She and Buttercup smiled at each other as the woman stroked her helmet, since it was in the way of her hair.
"Hahaha, alright. Take care of each other now," the professor said. "Especially Bubbles."
Bubbles wasn't glad to hear it. Despite being only three weeks old, she knew what it meant when the professor said it. She was the weak one. The dimmest one. She was the baby of the three, unlike Blossom, who Daddy would often praise for being the smartest, and Buttercup, who Mommy would praise for being the toughest. Her, on the other hand, was nothing. Her eyes were staring at the blank tiles of the City Hall floor, herself just as vacant inside. But no one noticed because of her helmet and goggles.
When it was time, the professor gently pushed them in the direction of the mayoral bodyguard. Bubbles immediately latched onto Blossom with both arms on the red girl's right. Buttercup walked on her own. They were brought to the double doors leading deeper into the City Hall building, but at the door, the police officers there stopped them.
"You're going to have to hand over your weapons, lassies," one of the police officers said.
"What weapons?" Blossom asked.
"Erm- Those pistols in your holsters? On your vest?" the police officer spelt it out condescendingly. "Do you know what pistols are? Do I have to spell it out for you?"
"He meant this, Blossom!" Buttercup said in frustration at her 'smart' sister, unbuttoning her holster with difficulty and pulling out the compact pistol from it.
"Hey, watch it!" the police officer yelled. Buttercup had accidentally pointed the pistol at him. Buttercup stared at him in confusion.
"What?" she asked, entirely ignorant of gun safety rules.
"Don't point that thing at me, you dolt! Don't you know that guns are dangerous?" the police officer scolded.
"Oh, fine. Here you go, mister policeman," Buttercup handed her pistol to the police officer, still pointing the dangerous weapon at him. The police officer snatched it quickly, muttering something else under his breath, which Buttercup could hear with clarity. He'd called her a dolt again, though she didn't know what it meant. She could only infer that it wasn't something good. She'd have to ask the professor what it meant later.
Blossom and Bubbles did the same thing, but with wiser deftness, shifting their guns by holding them by the barrels instead.
"And that, missy, is how you do it. You should be more like your reddish girl friend, greeny," the police officer added after collecting their weapons. Buttercup glared at Blossom from the corner of her eyes, feeling coal burning behind them. She'd never liked the idea of being second best, or that she had to be like Blossom, ever since she'd let her sisters dictate her appearance and behavior. Mommy had set her free, let her be herself, and encouraged her to do so - but she was only one person, as much as she loved her.
The Girls walked through the door, but not without getting sniped by the police officers as they continued.
"Can't believe the Mayor's agreeing with this kiddy nonsense," the head police officer said.
"Yeah, I know right? Townsville's going to the nuthouse if it isn't there already," another unseen police officer said.
The Girls' were as far from deaf as girls could be. They'd heard it, turned around and stared at the doors in dismay. The professor was right about people hating them for no reason, at least that was from their perspective. To the policemen, who were handpicked by the Mayor as the most dedicated, most loyal, it was like a slap in the face that Mayor Wilford had turned to what appeared to be a joke of a solution, from what they saw as the fraudster of federal agencies. Some were even afraid that his mind had finally succumbed to time and old age, and the Girls were the result of it.
"This way, kiddos. Don't keep the Mayor waiting," one of the bodyguards said; a black man with an iceberg of a face, as gorilla-like in stature as half his peers.
The mayoral bodyguards led the Girls to a lift that would take them up to the top floor. Oddly enough, there were three luggage, about the size of the Girls themselves, sitting beside the lift. One of the bodyguards, this time a man in his forties, judging from the crow's feet and wrinkles that were carved on his face, went up next to it.
"The mayor's an old man, kids," the forties guy said. "He wants the three of you to carry these up to him."
"Why can't you carry it up to him?" Buttercup asked. "There's eight of you, and you're all ten times as big as us!"
The forty-something looked at his fellow shades-wearing partner. The huge black man.
"He wants the three of you to carry them up for him," the black bodyguard insisted. "But… I guess he will understand if the three of you ain't got the strength for it-"
"What do you mean I 'ain't got the strength for it'?" Buttercup said, indignant because of the mayoral bodyguard's challenge. She immediately went over to one of the luggage and picked it up by the handles, holding it over her head. "Hah, too easy!"
The guards stared at her as if she had just grown a second head. Only, she didn't know that they were wide-eyed in surprise, or awe, or were at least fascinated by her display of strength. Blossom and Bubbles both did the same as Buttercup, which only added to everything they had discovered about the Girls.
The luggage had been filled with pieces of solid steel beams meant for constructing the skeleton of buildings. Even the bodyguards had trouble putting those luggage in place, even when two of them were assigned to each. The men did not understand why the mystery steel packages were there until the Girls took them up and swung them over their heads with ease. It had all been a test, a little insurance the Mayor had personally ordered to make sure the Girls were as strong as the USDO claimed.
"Buttercup, it wouldn't hurt you to help an old man, you know," Blossom chided her ravenette sister.
"Daddy said that old men are really tired and weak because they've been around forever…" Bubbles added.
Four of the guards followed the Girls into the lift and brought them to the top floor. They snuck peeks at the three Girls, wondering if they would ever get tired. "Don't drop the luggage, kids. Whatever's inside those luggage are fragile. Just keep holding them over your heads. Good."
The numbers on the elevator buttons took turns to shine as they climbed higher. Second floor. Third floor. Fourth floor. Then the fifth. The lift door opened, showing a corridor.
"This way, Supergirls," the black bodyguard continued to lead them. They went down the corridor, to its centre, then went through a mighty pair of oak doors, into a huge room built into the dome of the City Hall. The brain of the city, built for the one man who would lead it: the Mayor, and for much of Townsville's notable history, it was occupied by one man. Mayor Wilford. Even in his prime, he was rather short, standing only at little more than 5 feet 5, and now he'd shrunken – but Townsville didn't need a strong body. It was his vision, his ideas, character and morality that shaped it… At least until a decade ago, when other men, younger men, began chipping away at the marble statue that was the city he built.
Mayor Wilford sat behind a great redwood desk, giving him far more surface area than he'd normally use, on a leather high-backed boss chair that outsized him, giving the Girls, who were far away, the illusion that he was about their size.
He stood up to greet them, doing so feebly.
"Why hello Girls, it's nice to finally meet the three of you," he said, his voice still strong, despite his age and size. Decades upon decades of speeches had done its work. "Oh you poor girls, do set those luggage down next to my desk. I'm sorry I had to ask the three of you to drag them up from the ground floor."
'So, those videos weren't doctored,' Mayor Wilford thought even as he smiled at the Girls.
"No problem, mister… um…" Blossom said as the Girls came up to his desk, stopping when she realized that she did not know his name.
"I'm Mayor Wilford. You can call me Mister Mayor if you're so inclined, but my name will do for the three of you," he said as the Girls set down his hundreds of pounds of steel.
"It's nice to meet you, Mayor Wilford," Bubbles said, smiling at him.
"Yeah…" Buttercup added, with a tone of boredom, her voice extra abrasive.
"And… What are your names?" the Mayor took his turn to ask.
"I'm Blossom," the red-haired girl in dark red SWAT gear said.
"I'm Bubbles," the blonde girl in dark blue SWAT gear introduced herself.
"And I'm Buttercup, toughest of the three!" the ravenette in dark green SWAT gear added explosively.
"Well met, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup" Mayor Wilford acknowledged, admiring the Girls, who were already dressed to combat crime. He wasn't ignorant, of course, of what the USDO was trying to do. He knew that they were trying to create an impression of combat readiness. He knew better, he who had heard a million lies and half-truths, some of which he himself had to manufacture to some ends. He wanted to know more about the Girls, what was underneath all that Kevlar. He stepped around his desk, a feat that took him time. Buttercup gave a sigh. Blossom glared at her green-eyed sister. "Let's not stand on ceremony, shall we. Come on, let's sit by the warm fireplace while we talk."
"Here, Mayor Wilford, let me help you," Blossom offered, taking the Mayor by an arm.
"I'll help you too," Bubbles said as she giggled, taking his other arm.
"Oh brother…" Buttercup remarked. In her mind, she saw no reason to help; the Mayor was doing fine on his own, and it wasn't like it would do anything for her – get her on the first line in front of Daddy over her siblings, say.
The Mayor gently touched down on a tall, red and well-cushioned single seater. He waved kindly at a sofa perpendicular to his chair, and the Girls climbed onto it. "Are the three of you comfortable?" he asked with a smile only partially obscured by his white moustache.
"Very much so, Mister Mayor."
Bubbles nodded with a toothy smile.
"Humph," Buttercup grunted.
"Good. You know, I would like to take a good look at the three little girls who're going to fight crime in my city," the Mayor said as he adjusted his monocle. Seeing that there was a smudge on the lens, he took it off and wiped it with a fine silk cloth.
"What do you mean? We're right here!" Buttercup said in frustration. The whole affair felt boring next to the rollercoaster ride she'd had with Agent Blake and his fast car.
"I meant your helmets and facial doohickeys, Girls. I can't see your face," the Mayor explained patiently, very much aware that Buttercup wouldn't be the most well-liked of the three, even with him. But then again, these were children in his eyes, and he knew that some needed time to improve their character more than others.
The Girls undid the buckles on their chin strap and pulled off their helmets, then their goggles. Bubbles combed her hair quickly with her fingers, hoping that she'd at least look half-decent. Blossom's hair fell naturally in place. Buttercup's didn't need much work.
"Now that's more like it. My, what sweet little angels you are!" the Mayor said, meaning it several ways at once. The deepest part of him thought them to be beautiful children who should belong in a high-middle class home and at parties, like in Christmas. The other part of him didn't expect much considering their origin, considering their purpose. The political animal in him could think of numerous ways to take advantage of the fact. Just like the fact that they were having a nice conversation right now, building what he hoped would be a highly beneficial relationship. "I could sure use some hot chocolate right about now. Do you Girls want some hot chocolate?"
"Now that's more like it!" Buttercup said with a greedy smile.
"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" Bubbles said while nodding her head.
"Yes, Mister Mayor. It's very nice of you to offer," Blossom said, with the professor's voice in her head, reminding her of all the manners he'd taught her.
The Mayor waved a somewhat bony hand. An aide, who had somehow managed to remain invisible in the background, came over. "Four cups of hot chocolate, Alfred. Make 'em all adult-sized, it matters not," the Mayor ordered. The aide made to leave, but then the Mayor gently took him by the sleeve. "Oh and Alfred, make it four cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Extra marshmallows."
The Girls were thrilled, their smiles as extra wide as the amount of extra ingredients to be added. Even Buttercup had forgotten her bad attitude. The professor hadn't been wrong, they each thought – the Mayor was a friend. To the Mayor, though, even cups of hot chocolate had multiple facets to them. The physical, as a simple gift, then again, it was something of a social contract. 'I'm good to you and so you're supposed to be good to me'. At the worst, it could be a bribe, and with children, the value of a cup of hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) was multiplied a thousand fold. The Mayor, however, hoped that it would just be a gift, and their relationship, a simple friendship between an old Knight of Townsville and three young heroines.
The Girls eyes kept shifting towards the jar of cookies that the Mayor had planted on an end table next to him. They'd finally spotted it, now that he had brought up matters of gastronomy. He took it and opened the sealed jar with difficulty. "Cookies?"
"Yes, please!" Buttercup was almost begging.
"Yes, please," Blossom said with dignity.
"You're so sweet, Mayor Wilford," Bubbles said. They each reached into the jar, taking one giant chocolate chip cookie each. Buttercup had two.
The Mayor watched them eat contentedly, enjoying his cookies. This was good. Really good. Everything was falling in place. For the good of the city.
"Now, let's talk for a bit, Girls…" the Mayor opened up. The Girls looked up at him, beaming with expectations. Crumbs were falling off of Buttercup's lips and cheeks while Blossom and Bubbles we're less messy.
"Yeah, what about?" Buttercup asked. 'At least she's in a good mood and willing to talk now,' the Mayor thought. Dislike her a little though he might, he still think that Buttercup had her own strengths, and it wasn't just the strength of her arms that he needed to strong-arm the criminals of his city into civil obedience. She was direct, and hid nothing. A good politician could use someone like that.
"Why, about your dedication to protect the city, of course," the Mayor said, putting on the most innocent smile he could. "I've heard lots about the three of you even before we've met, and I just can't help but to wonder. Why fight crime, younglings? Why not stay home with your Daddy and play with your dolls?"
"Yuck! I don't play with dolls!" Buttercup spat with disgust, remembering that she used to pretend she loved it, just so that she could get closer to Daddy. It didn't quite work out, and she loathed the idea of being like Bubbles.
"Or whatever it is you play with, Buttercup," the Mayor added with a laugh. Yes, there's always a use for those who deemed themselves tough.
"Mister Mayor, I once saw people get hurt, and, and…" Blossom thought hard. Was that the only time when she wanted to act? No. There were other times when she wanted to take control. "I want to be able to do things to help. Sometimes my friends were in trouble, and I stood by and did nothing." She remembered when Agent Blake and his men were being taken away, when she didn't know if she'd see them again.
"I don't know, I'm here because my sisters are," Bubbles added, unsure of herself. She searched the floor for answers, but another came up on its own. "I want everyone around me to be happy, I guess."
"And it'd be fun! All the punching and kicking and explosions!" Buttercup added. She swung her fists left and right, producing audible whipping sounds, the way her Mommy had taught her.
"Is there more to it than that?" There's got to be, aren't there?" Mayor Wilford said. "I mean, there's no doubt that helping others and putting a smile on their faces, even if for fun, is great, but, don't the three of you want anything else for yourselves?"
The Mayor had thought hard when it came to that question. The Girls seemed pure, incorruptible, with the possible exception of Buttercup, making them good candidates as law enforcers, their apparent age and naivete notwithstanding, but he had to make sure.
"I guess there is one thing. When Daddy spoke about the city," Blossom was first to speak as the others were unsure of what to say. "He said that people would hate us, sometimes for no reason."
"Like that scary policeman below," Bubbles added, her voice extra high-pitched, making it clear that she was distressed at the thought.
"Mister Mayor, I want to them to stop hating us. I want to be loved," Blossom said, finally. Buttercup, in her corner, rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. Daddy's love was enough for her, and Mommy was already a bonus. The rest of them were either recipients of her knuckle sandwich, or pretext for her to dish out knuckle sandwiches.
"Love is nice," Bubbles supported her sister.
"Hummph…" Buttercup grunted in faint agreement just so she wouldn't be left out.
"Well, that may be hard, I'm afraid," Mayor Wilford said, and this time, he meant it. He closed his one good monocled eye and clasped his hands. It took a hardcore politician like him to win the favor of a city filled with the hopeless and the hardened. Three little girls wouldn't fare well in such circumstances. "The city's been hurting for a long, long time, lassies. And people who are hurt, who are hungry and desperate, they don't love as easily."
"What do you mean, Mister Mayor?" Blossom asked. She thought she understood him, but she was lost halfway.
"When someone's been hated for a long time, he will hate in turn, spread that hate, Miss Blossom," Mayor Wilford tried his best to explain, his one good eye stuck on Blossom's two. He then turned his single peering eye to Bubbles. "You've seen how my trusted police officer was. Please don't blame him for it - he'd seen many things… Terrible things, and when that happens, people, well, they get grumpy, really grumpy. They'd forgotten how to be nice, how to love."
"That's sad…" Bubbles said, her eyes still on the floor, a tear dripping from an eye. In her mind, it was impossible to live without love, or being nice, not in the kind of house she lived in. Mayor Wilford looked at her, and it broke his heart to see such a sight, a five-year-old girl (even less, considering what the USDO reps told him) destroyed by the state of things.
"But… What can we do to make them nice again? So that they'd love us?" Blossom asked.
"Break the cycle of hate," Mayor Wilford said, confidently. He wouldn't be a good mayor if he couldn't say that one thing right. After all, he'd been hard on crime, combating the evil elements of his embattled city for two decades now, even more so if he was counting his first streak of mayoral responsibilities and before that, as a more ordinary civil servant. "Do what's right. Fight crime as you so desire. Do it well, and the people will learn to love again, and they will love you."
"And have fun in the process, I guess," Mayor Wilford said to Buttercup. No, in the end, he couldn't bring himself to dislike Buttercup, no matter how she looked like. Even at her current stage, she didn't seem all bad. At least she hadn't turned to crime to sate her desire for 'fun', and with her kind of abilities, she could have easily done so. He reminded himself that he would have to thank the parents of these three special girls for having raised them right. "Now… Now that the three of you have told me why you want to fight crime, I think it'd be fair for me to tell you why I do it. And I have just the thing that I thought would be fun. Tell me, do you Girls like to fly?"
It brought to mind the flying ponies of television. The three Girls had all watched that, and they couldn't wait to be riding pegasi of their own. At least, they thought the Mayor had his own stable of flying horses with angel wings. Then the hot chocolate came. "Well, I guess flying would have to wait."
But they just couldn't wait. Though the hot chocolate were steaming at close to boiling point, the Girls had drained their cups fast, at first hurting themselves over the hot chocolate, but eventually developing a kind of resistance to hot liquid.
The Mayor tried to distract them by talking about other things. The Girls' own family life, their parents, what they do for fun. He thought he'd succeeded a little, but they were always sipping impatiently at their chocolate, and he didn't gather as much about the Girls as he had hoped.
They were halfway through when the Mayor put down his mostly-full cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. He was more worried about how the Girls weren't enjoying their hot chocolate, seeing it as a means to an end, than himself. "It's time to fly. Come on, Girls."
