CHAPTER 53: WHEN WOLVES TALK

ME: So I know it's been awhile, but hey at least this chapter's long to make up for it!

BLOSSOM: I thought summer school was over...?

ME: *sighs* Yeah; it's still busy though. Lots of drawing and martial arts to do.

BLOSSOM: Best of luck, then.

ME: Thanks! Now, Blaster, disclaimer!

BLASTER: Kuku owns me and her other OC's and the story, but not PPG!

BANANA: Please continue reading.

Chapter 53: When Wolves Talk


"Jamel, I hope you have some form of progress to report to me," he demanded roughly, folding his arms.

"Of course," he smirked with a flourished bow, holding his top hat out in front of him with one arm while the other swept the air behind him.

His companion looked unimpressed. "I didn't call you here for your theatrics. I've been expecting research since the beginning and you decided to hold out on your findings, going against my orders and disregarding—" He was grinding his teeth together at that point, but Jamel held up his hand. He stopped, narrowing his eyes with an expression that said "this better be good".

"I know you're agitated, Danes, but let's not let impatience cloud our minds. I only held back on my report because I found something rather interesting down there."

"And what was that? I have no time for your guessing games."

"Too bad, since I love them so much," Jamel smirked.

"You're trying my patience," growled Danes. "Give me the information."

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. I was just trying to prepare you for a bit of a shock." Jamel held out the papers and watched as Danes skimmed through them.

The man showed signs of surprise, through furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown. "This—" He trailed off, eyes bugging out a little in his shock.

"Exactly. I was equally surprised, y'know. Who would've thought that we'd gotten way further than expected? This advances our research by a steady amount," Jamel said.

"Where did you find this?" he demanded.

"Down in the library, hidden among other old books and scrolls," Jamel replied promptly. "It was quite a surprise, really." He grinned. "Who would've thought, the research Tyrone compiled that we had labelled as 'lost' was right under our noses all along?"

"...Thank you for your findings, Jamel. I will be handing these to our scientists first thing in the morning. Go get some rest. You've earned it." Danes stood up and half-waved the papers in a sign of dismissal before walking out the door.

Jamel grinned with satisfaction, leaning against Danes' desk as he stared at the large office doors. I haven't given you everything yet, Danes. There's still the matter of the research I left in Ross' hands. Whether or not he shows them to you is up to him. Either way, it's a win-win situation for me.

He smirked, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. Then he too slipped out the door.


"Daddy's here."

The words stung, like he was ripping off a band-aid from an old wound. He leaned forward, eyes half-lidded and sad as he sighed, "Daddy'll always be here—waiting..."

The girl lying below him didn't reply. She couldn't reply. Her eyes were closed, and they had been for a long, long time. Her caramel-brown hair tumbled to the ground, curling softly around her.

He wished he could see her caramel eyes once more too.

"When will you wake up, Cassie? It's been so long," he murmured, readjusting the cold, wet towel he'd just placed on her forehead. He sighed again, which he'd been doing a lot lately. Then he got up and glanced out the window.

Sunlight streaked in, interrupted only by the curtains. The light cast long shadows on the floor, making the room look less lonely than it actually was. He hated coming to this room now. What once was a symbol of his daughter's blooming personality, it was now a reminder of his daughter's wilted life. She'd been comatose for so long, he wasn't sure she'd ever wake up.

He turned to her. "For you, Cassandra, I'd give the entire world just to see you awake once more." He paused, feeling his throat close up as the tears sprang to his eyes. "Just for you... Nothing could defeat a father's love."

Her serene expression showed no signs of changing, and it hurt so much. Too many reminders of the past, he thought miserably, remembering another woman he had loved. One who looked just like Cassandra, with flowing brown hair but bright-green eyes. She'd had the smile of a goddess to him. But then when she gave birth and the war happened...

He sighed. So much has happened. And I can't seem to protect anyone close to me. What is wrong with me?

Trying not to cry, he pulled the covers over Cassandra and placed a lily in her hands. He did this daily; a new flower everyday. It was to honour his daughter's love of flowers, even though she never saw them.

Sunlight shone behind the curtains, shifting when the clouds shifted, causing dust particles to appear and flutter through the air like sparkles. Flower petals glistened and books glowed. The room seemed warm, and yet cold.

"I miss you," he whispered, "I love you. Sleep well; dream big; and wake up soon." He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. Then he walked away towards the door, glancing back only once—and sighing again. Then he shut the door behind him.

Everything was still for a heartbeat. Two.

Then Cassandra's fingers twitched.


She'd gotten the tears out of her system enough that she didn't start crying every other second. She hadn't been able to handle going back to face her family, so she'd only sent a single text to Buttercup's many other texts before flying to the park. Now she was sitting on the swings, staring at the ground while she sulked.

She didn't blame him—really, she didn't. And yet, she couldn't help but feel the smallest twinge of bitterness. That only served to make her even sadder, because she knew it was her fault for ignoring his feelings so much.

I used him to make myself feel better; it's not like I deserve that better, she thought miserably.

Sulking, she sighed and closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek. She was about to start sobbing all over again, when...:

"Bubbles...?"

Starting, she snapped out of it and sniffled before wiping her eyes. She turned to see the newcomer, who was none other than—

—Boomer.

The entire reason she and Sidney had split up—for the moment, she reminded herself, though it did little to lift her spirits. Out loud she said, "Hi, Boomer."

He furrowed his brow, looking concerned. He carried a stack of books. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she said quickly—too quickly. She forced herself to smile. "I'm just playing on the swings. I'm such a kid." She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a strangled cry.

Boomer tilted his head to the side. "Are you sure you're okay...?"

"Yes; I'm fine! Absolutely fine," Bubbles managed to choke out.

He frowned. "...I don't believe you," he finally announced, setting the books down. He sat down beside her on the swings. She flinched, but he just swung in silence for awhile.

"Boomer?" she questioned quietly.

"Yes?"

"You're not"—she hesitated—"gonna question me why I'm sad? N-Not saying that I am or anything! I was just wondering and—"

He turned to her and gave her a small smile. "I'm waiting for you to tell me what's wrong."

"I told you, nothing's wrong," she tried to lie, exasperated and miserable and scared, which ultimately led to her voice cracking as soon as the lie left her lips.

He shook his head. "I know you better than that, Bubbles. Something's wrong."

She stared at him. "Am... Am I really that easy to see through?" When he hesitated, her lip quivered and tears began pooling in her eyes. "I'm so useless," she whispered. "I can't even pretend to be happy."

"Why would you want to pretend?" he asked, looking somewhat panicked now that she was tearing up.

Bubbles didn't reply immediately, mostly because she couldn't. The tears made it hard to see or talk, as her throat was closing up. "It's just that... I—" She swallowed hard, unable to continue.

Boomer leaned forward, reaching out and taking her chin in his hand. He met her eyes. "Bubbles, tell me the truth," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

Her lip quivered some more as big, fat tears slid down her cheeks. Then she burst into sobs, throwing her arms around him and crying loudly.

Boomer's eyes widened as he sat there on his swing briefly, with a Powerpuff Girl dangling in his arms. He slowly wrapped his own arms around her too, his eyes now half-lidded as he murmured, "Shhh. It's okay."

She sobbed in his arms, bundling the fabric of his shirt. She was letting out cries of pain and heartbreak, feeling as though the heart she'd been trying to hold together was slowly falling apart. Boomer let her cry for as long as she needed—which was a long time.

When she could stop crying to sniffle, he asked, "Feel better?"

She pulled away and nodded, wiping her eyes. "Sorry," she rasped.

"It's okay." Boomer let her pull back, but he didn't remove his arms, almost protectively. "So...what's the matter? What's so bad it made cheery Bubbles cry?"

"...Sidney and I..." Bubbles couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

Boomer furrowed his brow. "What...? What did Sidney do? He couldn't have made you cry; he's not—"

She took a deep, shaky breath. "We broke up."

"—That bad," he finished, before his jaw fell open. "What?"

"We broke up," she repeated, her voice less firm and more wobbly than before. Saying it again made her all depressed again, and she could feel the tears come. "T-Temporarily. W-We needed some space for the moment."

He reached out to wipe her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"...It's not your fault," she finally answered. Except it is. Yours and mine.

"If"—he hesitated—"you don't mind me asking, why did you two break up?"

She let out a groan, burying her face in her hands. She knew the question was coming. But how do I tell him? I can't say the truth. I can't say "oh, it's because of you". How pathetic is that? How pathetic am I?

"Bubbles...? You don't have to say if you don't want to—"

"No, it's not that. I-It's just that—never mind." She steadied herself with a deep breath and sat up straighter. "We b-b-br—split up for now b-because I've been an awful, distracted girlfriend."

"Don't tell me Sidney said that to you!"

"No, no! He's an amazing boyfriend. He was just upset because he feels like I've been too distant, and it's true. I took his feelings for granted. I was using him to make myself feel better, even though I genuinely like him. How pathetic am I? I'm such an awful girlfriend!"

He clapped his hands onto her cheeks, ocean-blue eyes serious and stern.

"Boomer?" she questioned, staring up into his deep, sparkling gaze. They really are like the ocean, she thought.

"You are not pathetic, nor are you an awful girlfriend," he claimed, frowning.

"How would you know?" She turned away.

"I don't," he admitted, "but I know you as a person. And you seem like perfect girlfriend material. You're not just beautiful on the outside, but on the inside too."

She looked up to stare at him in shock.

He blushed, eyes widening as he realized what he was saying. "I-I mean—oh, you know what I mean."

She blushed as well, smiling somewhat as she managed to giggle.

"...There," he said, smiling as well.

"Wh-What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You smiled." He leaned in closer and his eyes became happy arches as their foreheads nearly touched. "You're prettier when you smile."

Her face burned. "Th-Thank you, Boomer. I-I needed this."

He smiled and got off of his swing, finally letting his arms fall away from her. "Well, glad to see you're feeling better. I guess I should go then. Gotta get these books to Mojo."

As he got ready to fly away, Bubbles acted on impulse and called out, "Wait!"

He stopped to turn and look at her in surprise.

She hesitated, before saying, "Could you stay with me for awhile? I-I could use the company."

Boomer stared at her for a few moments, while she fidgeted uncomfortably. Then he smiled and replied, "I'd be happy to. Just as long as you keep smiling."

"I-I will," she promised shyly. While she wasn't too far in figuring things out with him, at least they'd broken down more of the barriers Boomer had set up. She was now one step closer to understanding how she felt about the blue Rowdyruff Boy, and thus she was also one step closer to figuring out how she truly felt about Sidney. And that gave her reason to smile more, like he'd asked. She showed him her smile—a small, shy one—one that wasn't yet too strong, but at least she wasn't so sad anymore.

Boomer smiled his own radiant smile and floated toward her, setting the stack of books down again. He started pushing her swing, so high that she couldn't help but let out a squeal of surprise. Then he laughed, and she couldn't help but start giggling too. All of a sudden, her heart felt almost as light as her body.

Thank you, Boomer, she thought.


"Well, I guess this is it." He swallowed awkwardly, handing her the last pink shirt lying in his room. She blushed and took it, nodding.

"Yeah—it's time for me to go home now—now that you're awake." Shyly, she tucked a stray strand of pumpkin-orange hair behind her ear. "Sorry you had to keep sleeping in the lab—"

"Nah, it's fine. I insisted." He gave her one of his signature smirks, and she smiled back. "Besides"—here he glanced around the red room—"you kept my room so tidy I have no reason to complain."

She giggled weakly, "I couldn't dishonour you by messing your room up while you were unconscious."

He was silent for a little bit, staring at the picture on his dresser. It was one of his brothers and him. "...So you really missed me?" he finally asked.

Surprised, she nodded. "Of course."

"And"—he hesitated—"you really like me? Not Vincent?"

"We've been over this before," she said gently. "I chose you. There's no need to doubt my feelings."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed."

She smiled somewhat. "Really? And yet you're the one who kissed me first."

"Aren't you a little overwhelmed?" he teased.

"Of course I am," she agreed.

He walked toward her and grabbed her hands. "Blossom..."

She stared up at him with her blush-pink eyes. "Yes, Brick...?"

"I love you."

Her face reddened and she glanced away shyly. "You're so direct..."

He raised his hands, thus raising hers too, their hands still clasped together. "And you love me too, right?"

"Of course."

"...That's all I need to hear." He smiled and pulled her close. "I'm sorry I'm not yet used to the idea of being in love. I guess it's just so unbelievable."

"You better believe it soon then," she teased, "because I plan on being your girlfriend for a really, really long time."

He laughed. "That's good to hear. I'd like that."

Blossom snuggled deeper into his arms, warmed by his embrace. It had been so long since she'd had the chance to experience such a feeling.

"Blossom... How would you feel if I 'marked' you?"

She looked up, startled. "Huh?" Brick's ruby-red gaze stared back at her, looking thoughtful and lost and hungry. She swallowed. "Brick... What do you mean?"

He snapped out of it, smiling awkwardly. "Sorry. I'm just teasing. I promise I'd never do anything like give you a hickey unless you're okay with it."

She blushed. "Oh, let's not think about that kind of thing right now."

"...Yeah. Not right now. No marking right now." Brick's smile seemed strained and troubled.

She paused. "Don't tell me you want to—?"

"No, no! It's not like that." He leaned forward, nuzzling her nose. "No hickeys. That's not what I was thinking about."

"O—kay," she said awkwardly.

Brick groaned, "Sorry. I fucked up back there." He buried his face in her hair. "Argh I'm so stupid sometimes."

She blinked, before smiling. "Aww, you're so cute." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Well, I gotta go now. I love you, Brick." She knew he wouldn't tell her what he was really thinking. It clearly troubled him, but Brick and the other Ruffs had their secrets. Blossom could respect that.

"I love you too," he murmured back. He led her downstairs, where the others were waiting.

Boomer had just gotten home, and he was panting and rosy-cheeked with excitement, but he still managed to tackle Blossom in a hug and say goodbye. Blaster gave her a hug too, and Bandit and Butch waved awkwardly. Braker sort of gave her a hug, but it was sort of one-sided because Blossom dangled awkwardly in his arms as he picked her up off the floor. Mojo shook hands with her, and Him waved happily. Brick gave her one last kiss, ignoring the "ooooooh"'s from his brothers.

She waved too and walked out the door, carrying a small suitcase and bag. Brick watched her go, waving until she left completely. Then he sighed as he closed the door behind her.

Before he could leave though, Butch popped up in front of him. "I gotta ask you a question, bro."

"What is it?" the red Ruff questioned as he began his ascension up the stairs.

"Are you serious about her?"

Brick froze and glanced back at him. He had a bad feeling where this conversation was going to go. "Yes; of course."

"I thought so. You guys bonded a lot because of your amnesia. But"—here he hesitated. "Are you serious enough to plan on marking her in the future?"

Brick growled. "Don't bring that up now. I don't wish to do that, but I'm still definitely serious about this relationship."

"So you'd be okay if someone else took her instead in the future?" Butch demanded.

"No!" Brick's voice rose an octave despite his attempt to control his tone. "Of course not! I just...don't want to do that to her."

Butch glanced away. "...I understand."

He sighed and began floating up the stairs again. He couldn't help but wonder, Do I want to mark her...?


"I can't believe this." She bit her lip, applying her hands to the wounds that covered his skin. He winced, but as soon as her hands started glowing purple he relaxed.

"I'm sorry, my little Bunny. I know you hate seeing me like this," he murmured, tilting his head back to gently kiss her forehead.

Her heart sped up as she lowered her eyes. "I do," she agreed. "Wh-What on earth is going on in your life, Darkai?"

"...Training," he finally answered.

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Why won't you tell me the truth?"

"This is the truth."

"No, it's not. Liar," she whispered.

He fell silent. "I hate hiding things from you, but if I can keep you safe at all..."

"Darkai, I-I appreciate the gesture; I really do—but I-I can take care of myself."

"It's not just that."

Blinking, she glanced at his face. "What else is there?"

He looked thoughtful and distant, almost sad. "I've told you so many times. I need to protect you from me too. I want to shield you from the life I live. Even if you can handle it, I'd rather you not."

"Darkai..."

He smiled slightly and reached up to tuck stray strands of her brown hair behind her ear. "I like you a lot," he whispered.

She blushed violently, leaning forward to gently kiss his forehead. "I-I like you a lot too."

Soon his wounds were healed (as best as she could), and he threw on his black, baggy long-sleeved shirt. "I have to go," he murmured, kissing her on the lips. "But I'll always be back, Bunny."

"I just wish it wasn't always because I have to heal you," she said.

He smiled somewhat. "Me too. I'll come more when I have free time. I promise I'll be wound-free." He nodded once and left.

She waved until he was gone. She still wasn't used to seeing him smile and even crack a joke so often—hell, she thought, I'm still not used to dating him! Even hearing him talk is a marvel.

She left the school infirmary too, ready to fly home and relax. She hadn't gotten far when she heard a loud voice nearby. It sounded frustrated, and very familiar. Bunny stopped and hid inside a tree, peeking down at the boy below her, who was talking on a purple phone. His long, spiky brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his purple eyes roamed the ground as he talked.

"How are you doing, Sampson?" he asked. A pause. "So you're better now, then? Jamel's damage wore off?"

He let the other person talk before continuing.

"Okay, good. We have another appointment tonight at 7:00 pm. It's near Townsville's newest shopping mall—yes, yes; that's the one. We're hoping we won't run into trouble, but knowing Danes, something's gonna happen."

Another pause.

"Are you sure you can go? You only just recently got dealt some real damage by Jamel."

He kicked at a stone as the person on the other side talked.

"Well, okay. If you say so. But keep in mind that even if this is all for her, Cassandra would hate it if anything happened to her father. So be careful, okay?"

He smiled somewhat.

"Yeah, I'm worried about you. You're a good guy, Sampson." Silence. "Yup. Alright, 7:00 pm. Don't forget."

The two then said their goodbyes before they hung up. The boy took a deep breath, holding the phone out with one hand over it. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at the sky, before almost immediately meeting eyes with Bunny. There was a long, uncomfortable silence until she jumped down from the tree, face flushed red.

"H-Hi, Bandit," she stammered, landing in front of him.

He frowned, tucking the phone into his pocket. "Eavesdropping isn't your style," he said coyly.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help but overhear. I-I was just flying home but didn't know what to do," Bunny tried to explain awkwardly.

"So you decided to land in a tree and listen in on my conversation because you 'didn't know what to do' and not because you wanted to eavesdrop?" Bandit raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying her story 100%.

"I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't want to fly overhead and be noticed, wh-which would be r-really awkward. So I landed in the tree and o-overheard your conversation."

He sighed. "How much of it did you hear?"

"J-Just a snippet," she mumbled.

Bandit groaned and dragged a hand through his long hair. "Well, that's great. Just great."

"...Why are you so hung up on how much I hear?" she finally asked, after mustering enough courage to do so.

He stopped dragging a hand down his face and turned to stare at her. His expression clearly said "are you serious?". "You know why," he said.

She glanced away, hurt. "I do know."

"Then you should understand."

"I try to, Bandit. But it's hard."

He was unable to reply for awhile. Finally, he sighed and said, "I should go."

"...You're always leaving when I need you most," she whispered.

"What?" He glanced back at her in shock.

"I-I don't get you, Bandit!" she cried. "I try so hard to, but I just don't! Why do you do this to me? Why shove away the people who care about you? Why won't you let me in?"

"Because you don't deserve to deal with what I deal with on a daily basis!" His voice rose as well. "I'm not trying to shove you out. You just need to stop sticking your nose in dangerous matters that don't concern you!"

"What's so dangerous that a Powerpuff like me can't deal with?" she cried.

Bandit turned away from her, stepping back. "You don't want to know."

"There you go again, acting as if I'm weak! I'm not, okay! The only thing hurting me here is you!"

Bandit's head snapped upwards in shock, and he blinked. "Bunny...?"

"Guess what, Bandit?" She tried to suppress the tears, clapping her hand onto her collarbone. "I am not a robot! I have feelings. They get hurt."

He knitted his brow, unable to meet her teary gaze. "You know why I push you out. That should be enough to prevent your feelings from being hurt. I'm not an unreasonable man, Bunny."

"It's not easy," she whispered.

"But you know why."

"Yes. Because you don't trust me. You're just so—so secretive!" she blurted out.

"It's not like that!" he cried back.

"So what's it like then? Do you think I'm worthless? That I can't protect myself? That I'm just a broken doll who needs to be shielded at all costs? I'm just some broken puppet that can't even make her own decisions?"

"It's never been like that," he murmured back, suddenly looking deflated and defeated, as if her words had zapped the energy from him.

"So then give me a choice. Let me choose whether or not I want to hear your problems and help out."

"I just don't want you—hurt, at all. I don't want you to be involved, or in pain, or even have to know what I go through each day." Bandit sounded choked up, which hurt even more, but she couldn't stop the small rage that bubbled within her.

"Why do you do this to me, Bandit? Why am I just not good enough in your eyes?" she cried. "You don't trust me at all!"

Bandit furrowed his brow, clearly hurt by the comment. "That's not true."

"Which part? Because both of them seem true to me," Bunny replied, biting her lip and trying not to cry.

"You know that's not the truth." He walked toward her, holding his hands out.

She flinched as he got closer. "And yet it's never stopped you from pushing me away."

"But that's not because I don't trust you," he protested. "I do."

Bunny wiped her eyes, her throat closing up. "Bandit... Just...Just don't. I know what you're going to say."

He stopped, inches away from her face. "Bunny, I—"

"You're going to tell me that it's for my own good. That you're trying to protect me. Well, have you ever once thought about how maybe I just don't want to be protected?" She swallowed and took a step back, her voice rising. "Maybe I—Maybe I hate being treated like this, Bandit!"

"Did you ever consider that I hate this too? I hate shutting you—shutting everyone—out!" he retorted, looking just as in pain as she felt. "But what can I do? I don't control the troubling things that happen to me; things I don't want anyone else to experience. And if this is the only way to protect all of you, then so be it!"

"Why won't you trust us then? Trust us to make our own decisions and to help you!"

"Because none of you understand!"

"I've tried to, Bandit, I really have! But you're right, I don't understand! I don't understand shutting everyone out and dealing with my pain on my own. Everyone is out here ready and willing to help, and you won't let them. Why?"

"...I thought you knew."

"I know your excuses, Bandit. But I've never heard a legitimate reason from you," she whispered.

He sighed, glancing away. "Then I don't know what to say to you. I've tried to explain so many times, but you'll only ever see them as excuses."

Feeling betrayed once more, Bunny let out a cry of frustration, "I've had it! I can't take this anymore! I'll never understand if you won't tell me why!"

"...I thought—I thought we worked this out," he said, purple eyes wide because of her sudden outburst. His voice cracked.

Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the tears in his. "I don't know anymore," she whispered back. "I just don't know. Do you hate me, Bandit?"

"Bunny..." He reached forward and tilted her chin upwards with one hand. Gazing into her eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath. "Every time I have to push you away, I hate myself for it. Please understand. I-I understand if you hate me. But I'll never hate you. I'll only ever hate myself."

She squeezed her eyes shut, gulping.

He whispered something in her ear, and then he leaned forward and kissed her.

She froze, eyes widening in shock, shivering in the sudden cold as she felt her whole body become loose. She was shaking when he let her go, lips gently falling away from hers.

It had been such a soft kiss. Such a soft, heartbreaking kiss.

She collapsed onto the ground, tears sliding down her cheeks that she couldn't even feel. She gazed blankly up at Bandit, who looked sadly back at her, tears falling from his face as well.

"...I'm sorry," he finally whispered, before turning away. And then he was gone, just a purple streak in the sky.

Bunny sat there for a long time, trembling and crying without even realizing it. She just couldn't stop replaying the scene; his lips meeting hers. She couldn't stop hearing what he'd whispered to her before he'd kissed her:

"Because I've always trusted you."


"What's with the look?" Deth Jackson Jr asked, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

Bliss blinked, looking up from her lap. She'd been staring at her hands for quite awhile now, brain swimming with thoughts about her earlier talk with Braker. The troubled feeling she had just didn't seem to want to leave.

"What's wrong?" he repeated, looking concerned as he set down his cup.

Bliss swallowed. She didn't want to trouble her new boyfriend so soon with a "girl's emotions", but at the same time she really wanted to talk to someone. And she knew she'd already broken down in front of DJ once*.

He frowned, somewhat disturbed by her silence. "You can tell me," he urged.

She glanced around nervously, feeling even somewhat embarrassed. Deth Jackson Sr had set down his fork and knife, looking just as worried as his son. The cheerful man had happily welcomed Bliss into his life as his son's girlfriend. Slicer was staring at her intensely, not eating. While no visible emotion showed on his stoic face, the intensity of his stare made her feel self-conscious.

"I-I—ahh, please excuse me." Face red, Bliss stood up and hurried away. She made her way toward the bathroom, easily finding it after coming to DJ's house so much. The room was just as monochrome as anything else in the Jackson household. The floor was checkered black-and-white tiles, while the walls were a striped black and a bit of red. The sink and tub were obviously white, and towels were also white or black or even red.

Gazing into their large, black-framed mirror, Bliss splashed water into her face. "What is wrong with me?" she wondered aloud, staring at her reflection. Her mirrored self looked just as distraught as she was, saying "I don't know".

There was a knock on the white door just then. "Are you okay in there?" DJ's voice drifted in.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, a little too fast and raspy.

"...Alright, if you say so." He didn't sound like he believed her, but nothing else was said and she heard his footsteps leave.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Bliss looked herself over in the mirror again. She was wearing a short orange dress that glittered when she moved. It had a thin blue stripe running through the top of her top and the bottom of her skirt. Despite the beautiful dress her sister Banana had designed for her one Christmas, Bliss felt like she looked gruesomely tired. She tried to fix her sloppy look by retying her hair, but even the fancy 'do didn't help. Her hair had been pulled up with a flowery blue hair-band into a ponytail, which then had another hair-band tied to the bottom of it—this time orange.

Sighing, she turned to the door and unlocked it. She hadn't even taken one step outside when she was suddenly grabbed and pulled away from the door. Nearly stumbling, she was steadied by strong arms. Her cry was stifled by someone's—lips!?

When the person pulled back, Bliss' eyes finally adjusted to the sudden darkness of the hallways. Clear, ocean-blue eyes gazed back at her, filled with concern and care. "DJ?" she gasped.

He responded with a smile.

"J-Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" She recovered and shoved him lightly, her face red as she stumbled away from him.

He chuckled. "I'm sorry, but I was just really worried when you didn't answer me. So I figured I'd wait till you got out and surprise you."

"Well, it worked," she huffed, standing up straight to glare at him.

"I'm sorry, babe." DJ held out his arms. "Won't you forgive me?"

Despite her better judgement, Bliss smiled and walked straight into his arms. "Of course I forgive you, you doofus."

They stayed in one another's embrace for a little while—until DJ asked, "So what got my blissful Bliss so sad?"

"I'm sorry," she finally sighed, "I guess I'm just really distracted right now."

"By what?" he pressed, stroking her head gently. He pushed her bangs away to gently kiss her on the forehead.

Bliss swallowed back the lump in her throat, snuggling deeper into his arms. "I-I guess I kind of fought with Braker this morning—but at the same time, not really? I was just so happy to have him back, but he wanted things to go back to how they used to be—when I had treated him so awfully. I didn't want that." She proceeded to explain to him what had happened between her and Braker as quickly as she could.

DJ didn't respond immediately when she was done.

"DJ?" She looked up into his eyes, and was startled to see anger burning within.

"He doesn't have the right to hurt you like that," he finally said, leaning closer toward her. He buried his nose in her hair. "Braker doesn't know what he's doing."

"I-I understand why he wants things to go back to normal, but I just—"

He sighed softly. "I understand his feelings too, I suppose. But at the same time, I'm so pissed off that he would treat you like that."

Bliss was silent.

DJ pulled back somewhat to gaze into her orange eyes. She felt like she could drown in his ocean-blue eyes—drown and never come back to the surface, where all her problems were. She could be lost in his eyes forever. "Don't let him get you down," DJ remarked. "I'm right here for you."

"...Thank you," she whispered.

He reached forward and pressed his thumb to her lip, causing her cheeks to turn pink. Then he tilted his head down so that his lips could connect with hers. They kissed for a little while; it was warm and soft and comforting. His hand found her thigh, and she lifted her leg. They probably would've kissed for awhile longer had it not been for the sudden appearance of Deth Jackson Sr.

"Oh my," his father remarked.

They immediately broke apart; Bliss nearly stumbled after DJ pulled away and her leg dangled in the air briefly.

"DAD!" his son cried, red-faced.

"You two should really get a room." His father shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. "I'd prefer if you didn't do it in my house though."

"Dad, leave us alone! What are you doing, anyway?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't knock, il figlio." He glanced around. "Even though it's a hallway and there's no doors..."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Sorry, sorry," his dad laughed. "Anyway, I came back to ask if you two were going to finish your dinner."

Bliss glanced uncertainly at DJ, too embarrassed to speak.

"I-I guess so," he muttered.

"Great! L-Let's go then." Bliss scrunched up her dress in her hand and quickly walked back to the table.

DJ was about to follow when Deth Jackson Sr stopped him by placing a hand on his arm. "Ti sei preso una vera bellezza dolce lì, il figlio. Essere sicuri di non perdere la sua," he murmured.

"...I know," his son muttered back, still annoyed and embarrassed out of his mind. "Maybe if you stop embarrassing me all the time, she'd stay mine."

Then his father let go and let his son walk in first before following. As DJ sat down across from Bliss, he glanced at her and she gave him an awkward, shy smile. He managed to smile back.

As his father sat down, DJ couldn't help but think of what he'd said to him in Italian...: "You got yourself a real sweet beauty there, my son. Be sure not to lose her."


Buttercup tried to console herself. I'm not jealous of the fact that Ross liked Sydney, or that he may like someone else now. She stubbornly folded her arms. "I'm not," she said aloud.

"What are you not?" Her door opened and Blossom appeared in the doorway, carrying a bag.

"Blossom! You're back!" Buttercup jumped up and ran towards her sister, giving her a giant hug.

"Haha, yeah," Blossom laughed. "Everyone else already welcomed me home. The Professor told me you were in your room. Were you really so distracted that you didn't hear the commotion outside?"

Buttercup blushed, taking out her headphones. "I guess so."

"Well, it's good to be back." Her sister smiled and glanced around the room. "Same old, same old, huh? Still as messy as ever, I see."

"Oh haha," she replied sarcastically.

Blossom shifted her weight onto one leg. "So where's Bliss? The Professor told me she's on a date?"

"Yeah, with DJ," she confirmed.

The pink Powerpuff frowned. "So it was true after all, huh..."

"What's the matter?" BC asked, tilting her head.

Blossom sighed, "Well, you know Braker's awake now, right? He asked Bliss if she wanted to get ice cream with him, but she said she was going on a date with DJ."

Her black-haired sister rubbed her chin thoughtfully, glancing up at the ceiling. "Huh. I guess they were acting sort of strange around each other today."

She nodded. "Right? And it sucks because Braker literally just woke up and they already had a falling out."

"So...wait. Let me get this straight," Buttercup said, slowly realizing something. "Are you... Are you saying that Braker was jealous?"

"I-I don't know." Blossom hesitated. "I feel like he might like her romantically, but there's nothing to prove that so far. I guess I just wish they wouldn't fight at all; whether as friends or lovers."

"Man, I feel bad for Braker if that's the case."

"I suppose so. I mean, can you imagine falling for someone only to lose them to someone else?" agreed Blossom.

Buttercup paused. "...Yeah," she finally managed to say. She couldn't help but think of Ross, which made her blush and want to slap herself.

"Well, if he does really have feelings for Bliss, let's hope he tells her soon. I can't help but feel bad for him. He deserves her just as much as DJ does, and I wish them both the best of luck. Again, I don't know how he really feels. And it's still up to Bliss who she wants to be with." Blossom sighed. "Anyway, it's good to be back." She gave her sister a smile.

"It's good to have you, Bloss." Buttercup wasn't all that there as she hugged her sister again. She couldn't keep Ross out of her head now.

"I'm gonna go to my room and unpack. Talk to you later," Blossom called as she walked out the door.

Buttercup waited until she was gone before sighing and plopping herself down on her desk. Blossom has a point. If Braker likes Bliss, he should confess soon. If you like anyone, you need to be fast before someone else takes them away.

She paused, swallowing as newfound determination wriggled its way into her stomach. She had something she wanted to be sure of. And if it turned out to be true, then she had something she needed to tell Ross.


"The day's getting dark. This is ridiculous," groaned Vix, dragging his hand down his face.

Ross couldn't help but agree. His friends—besides Michael, of course—should've been at their meeting place twenty minutes ago. He started tapping his fingers on his knee, glancing up at the moon. The sky was indeed darkening, and it was growing a little chilly. He drew his jacket tighter around himself. The park was empty. Police tape still lined the area, but the patrols had begun to lessen.

Sidney sat beside his friend on the stone steps, looking miserable and sad. Ross glanced at him. He'd been like this since school, and he wouldn't tell anyone why. Ross was still sad about Sydney as well, but Buttercup had really cheered him up. The thought of the green Puff made his cheeks warm.

In front of the two of them, Shamus paced back and forth. "Where are they?" he muttered, mostly to himself as he rubbed his stubble.

Another three minutes of unhappy, impatient silence passed before any sign of a newcomer appeared. The sign was someone coming out of the shadows from behind Shamus, murmuring a "hello".

The man jumped and spun around quickly to meet eyes with Darkai, who was dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans. The older male relaxed. "Oh, hello, Darkai."

"Sorry I'm late. Was busy chasing a runner." The silent teenager flicked off a piece of cloth stuck to his shoulder.

Ross and Vix exchanged knowing glances.

Shamus glanced at his watch, and then at the door. "Now all we need is for DJ to get here. Where is that kid?"

"...Date."

Everyone turned to Darkai.

"He said he'd be on a date with Bliss," he said blankly.

"Oh God. Why did he choose today of all days?" sighed Shamus, starting to pace again. "We've planned out this meeting for a few days now."

They continued to wait, with Darkai being silent and Sidney looking miserable and Ross tapping his fingers impatiently and Shamus pacing back and forth...and soon a black limousine drove up before the park steps. Someone quickly clambered out and called something to the driver, whose tinted window was rolled down. Ross recognized the driver as Slicer, DJ's uncle. The someone now outside the car was none other than DJ himself.

Shamus stopped pacing, folding his arms instead. "How could you be so late?" he demanded.

Deth Jackson Jr shrugged. "Sorry; I got caught up with our family dinner." He didn't sound all that apologetic.

"And Bliss," muttered Darkai.

Ross managed to hide his small smile as DJ shot their monotone friend a glare.

Shamus sighed. "Whatever the reason, you are thirty minutes later than you should be. We agreed to meet here a couple days ago, did we not? You've missed valuable training time."

"You guys could've started without me." DJ turned away from Shamus, swinging his gym bag off his shoulder and onto the ground. "I don't care."

"You should," scolded the older man. "We are at war right now and I will not have you missing any training. Danes wants you all to be in tip-top shape. We'll be staying extra tonight, got it?"

"Got it." Deth rolled his eyes, his back still to Shamus.

Ross got up, wincing as he felt the sudden urge to stretch. His butt felt cold from the stone steps. "What are we going today, Uncle?"

"Sydney; Christie," Shamus called.

Ross stiffened, his arms locked in a stretching position. He slowly glanced toward the left, meeting eyes with someone who was coming out of the shadows. She was dressed in a black shirt and baggy camouflage pants with black boots. Her tan hair was tied up. She carried a bag, which she tossed to Shamus, avoiding Ross' gaze the entire time.

The other girl was blond, long hair cascading down her shoulders. She wore a baggy, gray tank top with the image of a dreamcatcher on it and a tight, white tank top underneath. She paired it with black tights.

"Uncle, you didn't say Sydney—or Christie—would be here," choked Ross, trying to sound calm.

"She's here to train with us. As is Christie. They've been training with Marissa earlier. See? The girls are all on time. I wish you boys would be too." Shamus opened up the bag and pulled out some guns. He didn't seem to notice his nephew's sudden discomfort.

Ross swallowed hard, trying not to panic. He may have felt better about his talk with Sydney thanks to Buttercup, but he was hardly ready to talk or train with her again.

Shamus passed each of the boys their own guns and other safety equipment. "We're playing a game today."

"But won't someone hear us?" asked DJ, voicing the thought that everyone else was thinking. He hefted the gun he was given up, making a face that said "this is not going to end well".

"It's fine. They're not real guns. We're going to practice hiding and attacking in an open space. We're going to practice aiming at a real live, moving target." He lifted his gun. "Ross, Darkai, DJ, and Sydney. You are one team. Christie, Vix, and Sidney, you are another team."

Vix raised his hand. "We're short one guy," he said heavily. Everyone fell silent. They knew he was referencing Michael.

Shamus sighed lightly. "I know. I'll be on your team." He held the gun up high and aimed at the sky. "Ready, set, GO!" Then he pulled the trigger. A clear but not loud pop sounded, and everyone immediately dove for cover.

Ross and DJ ducked behind some bushes. "Well, at least we have Darkai and you on our team," Deth announced.

"Yeah, but the other team's got Shamus, Vix, and Christie," Ross muttered back. "Sidney's pretty good too."

Someone shot out of the bushes and pulled the trigger of their gun. A pop sounded as a light exploded from the item, hitting someone else.

Sidney stumbled out into the open, looking dazed by the sudden flash of light.

His sister stood before him, looking proud and victorious.

"...Huh, I forgot about Sydney," DJ remarked.

Ross twitched. Just hearing her name brought him pain.

Shamus stood up. "Sorry, Sidney. Looks like you were shot."

"It's fine," the teen murmured back, still looking dazed and upset. "I don't feel too well anyway."

Shamus watched him wander back towards the stone steps with a surprised and now somewhat sad expression on his face.

"I think Uncle's noticed that Sid's not all there. He didn't bring his A-game today. I wonder why?" Ross murmured.

DJ shrugged, unable to reply as another pop sounded. Vix let out a loud curse and the two teens hiding behind the bushes peeked out to see if the older teen had been shot. As it turned out, that wasn't the case. It was Vix who'd pulled the trigger of his gun, but he'd been aiming at the elusive Darkai—who'd managed to escape the light's beam.

"Dammit, I'll get you next time," Vix muttered, disappearing back into the tree he was hiding in.

DJ glanced at his friend. "I'm going out," he whispered. Ross managed to nod before the darker-haired boy streaked out of the bushes, aiming up at the tree. Another pop sounded.

There was much rustling as the person (or people?) inside the tree tried to avoid the light from DJ's fake gun. Then there was a cry as Christie and Vix tumbled out of the tree, both of them falling towards the ground.

Shamus quickly jumped to his teammates' defense, shooting at DJ before he could shoot the two teens. DJ was forced back into some other bushes.

Vix and Christie crashed to the ground, but Vix managed to shield the girl's body by wrapping his arms around her. "Ow," he groaned as he lay there.

"I didn't ask for you to catch me!" Christie scrambled upwards and pulled Vix up as well, blushing madly.

"Well, you're welcome for saving you," he shot back. "I'm your bodyguard. It's what I do, whether you like it or not."

"This is no time for arguing!" called Shamus, aiming into the bushes where DJ had disappeared into. "I'm going to go for the kill. You two cover me from Sydney, Ross, and Darkai."

"Easier said than done," muttered Vix, limping towards the man.

"Vix, you're limping!" cried Christie, hurrying after him.

"It's fine." His healing Eye flashed white. "I can handle this."

"Don't overwork your Eye too much," Christie warned. "Last time you—"

"I know," he snapped.

She fell silent, looking unhappy as she turned away and covered for Shamus.

Ross took a deep breath, hoping DJ would be okay. He glanced out and started. Darkai stood before him. "I didn't hear you at all!" he hissed.

His friend didn't reply as he aimed.

Vix spotted him. "Watch out!" he yelled, shoving Christie out of the way. She let out a cry, stumbling as Vix jumped forwards and threw up his gun. He was too late though, getting shot by Darkai's beam of light.

"Headshot," the dark-haired teenager murmured in his smooth, caramel-like voice. Then he ducked behind the bushes with Ross.

Christie jumped upwards and grabbed Vix. "I'm sorry," she exclaimed. "And after your first injury too—"

"It's fine," he grunted, ignoring her outstretched hand. "I'm good."

She frowned but didn't push. Ross noticed that for some reason, Christie had been attempting to be nicer to Vix now. He watched as DJ popped out of the bushes and tried to make a beeline for another tree. Shamus quickly fired his own gun, and his stream of light cast itself upon the energetic teenager.

"Shit!" cursed Deth, skidding to a stop and rolling his eyes, groaning. He disliked training a lot, but DJ often got very into their exercises. He made his way toward Sidney with the limping Vix, and the two males jostled each other playfully as they walked and sat down.

Ross counted the remaining people. There's me, Darkai, Shamus, Christie, and—Sydney. Right. Her. He swallowed at the thought of her name. Ross got up and aimed his gun. He'd been so distracted he hadn't gotten a single "kill" at all this session, and he knew his uncle was going to scold him for it.

Christie noticed him though, and she quickly pulled Shamus away. The two of them dodged multiple beams of light from Darkai and Ross, with Vix cheering them on. Then Christie decided to fight back by aiming at Ross.

The boy didn't notice immediately, too focused on trying to get his uncle. It was Darkai who alerted him. "Ross, duck!" His friend pushed him aside and the beam of light grazed his arm.

"Sorry," panted Ross, eyes wide.

"It's fine," muttered Darkai. "Do your best." Then he turned and began walking towards the stone steps.

"Sydney, I know you're out there! Come out and play," Christie called, spinning her gun around in her hand. "Let's do this; girl-to-girl!"

Instead of a verbal answer, a streak of light shot out from the trees and Christie quickly jumped out of the way. Then Sydney appeared, running for cover while constantly shooting. She was too focused on Christie though, and Shamus got ready.

He fired and Ross burst out of the bushes and rushed toward her. She glanced at him in surprise and was nearly shot, but he managed to drag her into some bushes with him. When they stopped tumbling through sticks and leaves, he was lying on top of her. "That was close," he panted.

Sydney visibly swallowed. "...You saved me."

"That's what teammates are for, right?" He didn't look at her, still trying to catch his breath.

She glanced away as well. "Why? I thought you were still upset about our conversation. Why not just leave me to 'die'?"

"It's what teammates do," he said, exasperated. "Look, let's not talk about this. I just did it on impulse, okay? And"—now he hesitated—"it's not like I hate you."

"You might as well. I broke your heart." He had made the mistake of looking at her face, and now she turned toward him, meeting his green gaze. Her eyes made him feel lost all over again, and he could feel old feelings that he didn't want to feel coming back.

"Yes," he rasped, "but I can't let that get in the way of our duties."

"Ross...I—"

"This isn't the place for this," he protested.

"...I'm sorry," she finally whispered.

"...I know," he murmured back with a sigh.

The two were silent for awhile, with him still on top of her. Then she opened her mouth again. "It's just that I—"

Christie's voice sounded, rather close by: "Now where on earth could they have gone?"

"Shhh," he hissed, clamping a hand down on her mouth. He quieted his breathing and lowered himself even closer to her body in an attempt to hide from Christie's searching eyes.

"They must be somewhere around here. They couldn't have gone far," Shamus remarked, making some rustling noises nearby.

"But where?" muttered Christie. Ross could hear the clicking of her gun, the jostling of the leaves, and the tapping of her shoes on grass.

It took another minute until she stumbled upon them. Christie let out a loud gasp, eyes wide, but Ross quickly whipped out his gun and shot her. The light hit her and she stood in shock for a little bit, before letting out a frustrated "fucking hell!" and backing away.

"I didn't expect you two to be in that position," she began.

"Don't even comment," Ross said, getting up. He didn't meet Sydney's eyes as she scrambled upwards as well.

Shamus turned to Christie. "Did you get shot?"

"Sadly, yes." She bowed her head. "It's up to you now." Then she turned away and hurried to where the other people who'd been "shot" were.

"It's just you and us now, Uncle," Ross remarked, hitching up his gun.

"Hmm. Don't underestimate me, dear nephew." His uncle vanished into the shadows. "I still have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Goddammit," muttered Ross. "He got away before I could shoot him."

"Ross—"

"I told you, now's not the time—"

"I know," Sydney interrupted. "I just wanted to say that we should work together and trap your uncle."

"...Oh." He blinked at her, suddenly embarrassed that he had seemed arrogant enough to assume that she wanted to talk about his feelings again.

"I know now's not the time for that conversation," she murmured, lowering her voice. "So can we team up...just for now?"

Ross stared at her for awhile. He swallowed. "Alright," he rasped. "Let's work together." He held out his hand.

She stared at it for a brief second, before clasping their hands together and nodding.

He jumped out and Shamus called out, "What sort of plan do you have? Coming out into the open like this is hardly a good idea."

"Well, at least I'm brave enough to come out," Ross called back, following his uncle's voice. He managed to avoid a zap of light. There! Then he started running toward where the light had come from.

Sydney was back in the bushes, following Ross in the shadows. She made it to Shamus' hiding spot before Ross (as their plan had called for), and she heard rustling. Shamus dropped out of the trees, running for the bushes that Sydney had just come from. Ross was still advancing on his uncle's original hiding place.

"And now...we win," the tan-haired girl whispered, firing her gun. A flash of light flew into Ross' uncle, and he skidded to a stop. For a moment everything stopped as Shamus stood up straight. Everyone from the stone steps could see him now, and they were all waiting with anticipation to find out why he had blown his own cover. It grew so silent that one could probably hear a pin drop. Instead, a bat fluttered into view, breaking the silence with a squeak.

"Damn," he finally said, dropping his gun, "you win."

Sydney turned to look at Ross, who was blinking in surprise. Then he grinned. For a second Sydney had the urge to run to him and—and what? Hug him? Kiss him? Celebrate with him? It's not like he wants that, she thought bitterly.

"We did it!" Ross cheered, running towards her. She couldn't reply, speechless that he had done what she'd wanted to do. He pulled her into a hug. "We did it."

"Y-Yeah," she stammered.

Her lack of response seemingly made Ross remember who he was hugging. Coughing, he pulled away and nodded awkwardly. "Thank you for your help," he said stiffly.

Shamus was smiling, clearly not aware of what had gone down between his nephew and this girl. "Congratulations, you two. You've shown brilliant teamwork."

Everyone else gathered around them to congratulate them, and Ross' team was happy to shove their victory in the other team's face (or rather, DJ was happy to). "We won, we won!" he yelled.

"Need I remind you that this victory wasn't yours?" Shamus responded teasingly.

DJ just grinned back, before turning to Ross, who'd fallen silent during the celebration. He nudged his friend. "Great job back there! You even made a move on Sydney. I knew y—"

"Stop." Ross' interruption came in a hard, bitter tone that surprised even himself. DJ's surprised expression spurred him on, however. "I did not make a move on her. I don't like her anymore. Don't think I do," he spat.

DJ put his hands up. "Whoa, dude. Sorry; I just thought—"

"Well then, don't think!" he snapped, shoving past his friend.

Shamus seemed to notice that something was wrong. "What's the matter, Ross?"

"I'm tired, Uncle. Let's go home," he replied, his voice struggling just to remain calm.

Shamus glanced at DJ, Sidney, and Darkai. Deth Jackson Jr shrugged pitifully. The group then followed Ross back to the parking lot, now awkwardly quiet and unsure.

Sydney lingered in the back, feeling wretched and cold and lonely. I fucked up again, she groaned inwardly. Why do I have to make him hate me so?

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the group trudging away, someone was hiding in the shadows. This person was, in fact, Harry. He pressed a button on his earpiece. "It would seem that Ross has two weaknesses. Buttercup and Sydney."

The man's voice on the other end was amused as he replied, "Ahh. Not just the Powerpuff Girl, but also his friend's sister? This boy is quite the player."

"Shall I keep tracking him? Or do you have a plan right now?"

"...Keep following him. It's not time yet—I need the perfect time, the perfect opening, the perfect execution..."

"Alright." Harry got up. "But this plan better come into fruition soon. I'm not doing this all just because you asked me to. This is for the sake of victory. For the sake of my friends and my allies."

"I know, and I'm well-aware of that. All you care about is winning this stupid war." Harry could practically see the man's smirk. "I just want my revenge."

"You know, what is this revenge about, anyway? You keep mentioning it, but I don't even know who you are or why this revenge is so important to you."

"Ahh, but you will know one day, Harry—someday soon in the future. Be a patient man, and just do as you're told for now."

Now annoyed, Harry grunted back, "You're not much of a boss, you know that?"

"Bosses give orders. Employees follow them." His tone was warning now. "Do your job. Don't ask foolish questions."

"Very well." Pressing the button on his earpiece to hang up once again, Harry continued on with following Ross and his group.

On the other end, the man slammed his own earpiece down and grinned, gazing into the monitors that surrounded him in the small cabin. "Yesss," he hissed to himself, "be a little more patient, Harry...although you've never been a patient man. But you should at least try, just as I am." He chuckled. "This plan needs the perfect execution. It has to work, or else my name isn't Damon."


"You wanted to meet me?" His dark-blue eyes flashed concern as he met her gaze, sitting on her windowsill.

"I-I'm sorry, I just didn't want to be alone right now." She shivered, drawing in closer toward him. "Please stay for awhile."

"I was quite surprised to see your text," he murmured, clambering into the room. He turned to face her and reached out, stroking her hair with the back of his hand. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted, closing her eyes.

He frowned, breathing out slowly. "I hate seeing you like this. What happened?"

She visibly hesitated. "...N-Nothing. I'm being silly. I'm sorry. I was just feeling lonely."

"...This doesn't look like 'nothing' to me," he whispered.

She turned away.

"Please. Tell me what happened."

"I-I can't." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"Then why call me here?" he asked, a tinge of exasperation in his smooth, soft but rough voice.

"You're the only one I could think of calling. I was feeling so lonely, I just—" She stopped herself and sighed. "I-I'm truly sorry. I'm so pathetic."

He stiffened. "No."

She blinked up at him in surprise.

"No," he repeated, "you're not pathetic in the least. You're a brilliant light in the dark; don't you ever feel otherwise."

She felt the tears spring to her eyes. "Oh, Darkai..."

He managed to smile at her before his phone began vibrating. He picked up and only listened before nodding. "I understand."

"Darkai?" she asked gently.

"I love you, my little Bunny." He leaned forward and wiped away her tears, before planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "I must go now, but I'll always be here for you."

She watched him go, feeling warm but still sad as he disappeared out the window. Her heart ached for his company—any company. She was Darkai's girlfriend, and yet she couldn't stop feeling her heartbeat speed up when she thought of Bandit's kiss. It pained her to think that her loyalty to Darkai was being tested by the purple Rowdyruff, a boy she had convinced herself a long time ago that she didn't have romantic feelings for.

She couldn't help but wonder whether or not she had ever told the truth when it came to her feelings for Bandit Jojo.


Butch wasn't one to give in easily, but he felt exhausted. It was as if every muscle in his body was so tense and tight and sore that he was just about ready to keel over. All these battles had begun taking their toll on him.

Braker sat beside him, reloading his gun. Despite only recently waking up, he had insisted on joining his brothers in a battle. Butch guessed that he was still bitter about his brief fight with Bliss. Since she was going on a date with DJ and the Ruffs were going fighting, Braker had no one to eat ice cream with. They had also managed to explain what had happened in the war to Braker, further driving him toward insisting on fighting instead of resting by himself. "Are they still coming?"

He quickly glanced outside the wall they were hiding behind. Indeed, more of Danes' men were running toward them. "Yeah," he managed to breathe before a gunshot sounded. It was Sampson and Brick; the man was covering for the red Ruff. Despite his latest wounds, he had insisted on fighting. It was Bandit who had told the Ruffs that Sampson would be joining them.

In that moment of Sampson covering him, Brick flipped over the wall they were hiding behind, landing beside his two brothers. "How's it going here?" he panted.

Before he answered, the orange Ruff glanced outside, firing his gun a couple of times. "Fine," he said.

"Blaster and Bandit are preparing their next attack. Then Boomer comes in. You two are here for back-up. Don't forget," commanded Brick.

"This blows," complained Butch, snapping his fingers so that green flames appeared. "Why can't we use a maneuver with me in it?"

"Because you're a dumbass and Braker's not fully recovered. Now shut up and follow the plan," snapped his redheaded brother.

As he vanished from their view, Braker commented, "Brick's not in a good mood."

"Yeah, well neither am I." Irritated, Butch reloaded his own gun. He was tired and still felt conflicted about how to deal with Damon's giant reveal. He wanted to break some arms or something to forget about his newfound dilemma, but Brick wasn't having it. Butch wasn't having any of his brother's shit either, but he knew he couldn't disobey Brick. One wrong move and their entire victory would disappear in a poof of smoke, crashing down like a stack of cards.

The two "back-up" brothers began firing their guns. Butch loaded green flames into his gun from his fingers. The gun was custom-made for him, by Mojo Jojo himself. And Butch couldn't have been more satisfied with it.

Braker's gun shot arrowheads. He was an experienced shooter and archer, with excellent aim. It looks like a couple days unconscious has not dampened his skills, Butch mused. Too bad for our enemies!

He spotted a glint of red flames above them, which he recognized as Brick's signal—for Bandit and Blaster. The very idea that his other brothers got to have all the fun made Butch annoyed. There was a sudden yell, and yellow and purple flames burst from either side of the battlefield into the centre in streaks of light. When Butch glanced out, he could just make out Blaster's blond hair and Bandit's brown hair. Their eyes were glowing white.

Danes' men scattered, startled by the sudden mass attack. Screaming and stumbling added to the confusion, and Brick sent out flashes of red flames. This led to even more confusion, but the Ruffs saw it as another signal. Butch and all of his brothers floated into the air, ready for Boomer's assault. They were to keep their distance.

As soon as they were up in the air, there was a sudden wave of blue electricity that passed through the battlefield. People were shocked and screamed out, staggering to the side and collapsing in a pitiful pile. Even Danes' latest commander was affected by the blue electricity.

Boomer was the one responsible for the third attack. He was off to the side of the battlefield. Butch glanced to where his brother stood, hands crackling as his eyes shone blue. Boomer was panting, looking exhausted, but he'd done his job.

"Rowdyruff Boys, MOVE OUT!" yelled Brick.

Butch grinned. Finally, a little action. Ready to blow off some steam, he flew downwards onto the field. He didn't land though—the ground still crackled with remnants of Boomer's power. Butch didn't need to land for his next move. He lowered his hand and aimed. The next thing that happened was a ring of green flames exploding out from his gun. The circle of fire trapped Danes' men. Those who weren't unconscious were unable to escape.

Braker shot his arrowheads at the enemies as he circled Butch's ring of fire. People fell and fell until the last one standing was Danes' latest commander. Now it was Brick's turn.

He lowered himself in the air, glaring down at the enemy's commander. "Send this message to Danes, will you?: We, the Rowdyruff Boys, do not plan on giving up on Damon. We are not giving in, and we are certainly not surrendering. We will keep trying to fight back."

"So you're on Damon's side? Even though the traitor revealed himself to be alive and very much so a traitor? He kidnapped Christie, for fuck's sake!" snarled the man.

Brick lowered his face until he was facing the man. "We are not on his side. Nor are we on yours. We will create our own side. We will fight for what we believe in."

"And what do you believe in?" he spat. "You're just a bunch of fucking stupid kids who understand jack-shit. Why not just run home to your precious monkey man mommy and use your fucking powers for something actually useful?"

Brick growled, grabbing the man's collar. "Watch your goddamn mouth, you fucking asshole!" he yelled. "Do you really believe that everybody fighting against you believes in Damon? Fuck no! People like Sampson or Harry aren't fighting for Damon, they're fighting for themselves. They're fighting back because your fucking stupid leader Danes Hawthorne believes that just because they were once Damon's allies, they must all be the same! But no, they're not. They're fighting back so that they won't be wrongfully accused or punished of and for crimes they didn't even commit. Is this getting through your thick-ass skull, you fucking idiot?"

"And what about you!? What are you fighting for, you idiot kids!?" yelled the man.

Brick's grip tightened on the collar, and he thrust the man violently back. "We're fighting for ourselves too! We're also fighting for Damon—but not the tyrant he's become now. We are fighting for the man we remember as sweet and kind and giving! Something you wouldn't understand."

"You're right, I don't understand. Why fight for the past?" he snarled. "Why not just let the whole goddamn thing go? Realize his sins. Realize his flaws. Realize that he deserves to be punished."

"Because we can't just let it go." Brick leaned in closer, until his blazing red eyes were staring into the man's own brown ones. "We won't let you tarnish Damon's past image."

"Don't tell me you still think he's innocent of killing Tyrone!" yelled the man.

"...There's still a possibility." Brick shoved him to the side, letting go of his collar. He turned around to fly away, but paused momentarily to glance back at the man. "Oh, and about us letting go of the past... Why not heed your own advice and let it go? Last time I checked, Tyrone's death was in the past."

The man's snarl faded away in shock.

Brick grunted, "Humph. That's what I thought. You can't either."

Before the man could answer, Brick signalled for his brothers to follow him. Then he blasted off, leaving a red streak behind. As the others followed in a rainbow of streaks, Butch couldn't help but look back once. His ring of green flames was still burning, and Danes' latest commander was still trapped there with his men within. But that wasn't the only thing... Butch's eyes widened. He wanted to call out to his brothers, but he couldn't seem to find his voice.

Down below, half-hidden behind a tree beside the ring of green flames, was none other than Damon himself.

Butch blinked once and the man that had once cared for him was gone. He swallowed hard. How can Brick be so sure of everything? Doesn't he have doubts? Or am I really the only one?

Glancing around at his fellow, solemn-faced Rowdyruff Boys, Butch was almost scared that he was, in fact, the only one who didn't entirely know what he wanted to do, and what he was fighting for.


"It's sprained."

The hooded man who had been looking over his leg suddenly got up, glancing at a kit of medical tools beside him. He cursed under his breath. Of all the dumb things that had to happen, it had to be sprained. Knowing my luck, of course it's sprained.

Beside him, a girl with long blond hair was watching anxiously. "Will he be okay?" she asked.

Yes, he wanted to scream out loud, but he settled on internally screaming instead.

The hooded man who had just told him about his newly sprained ankle was now busy rummaging through his medical kit. "You should be fine as long as you lay off it for a little bit."

"Thank goodness. I'm sorry about this, Vix." She looked guilty. "If we didn't fall—"

"It's not your fault, Christie," he snapped, his words coming out harsher than he'd expected. She blinked at him in surprise, and he sighed, "Sorry. I mean—it's fine. Stop worrying." He blushed. "I-It's weird seeing you worry about me. A-And annoying!" he added quickly.

Christie managed to smile somewhat shyly, glancing away. "S-Sorry. I just—I don't know." She clearly hesitated. "After my encounter with Damon..."

Vix stiffened, feeling protective of her all over again. "What did he say to you?" he demanded. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Raymond, the hooded man, had frozen as well, bandages dangling from his fingertips. Vix remembered Raymond and Damon's big reveal that they were twins. Raymond had yet to tell his story, but from what Vix could gather from the twins' exchange after not seeing each other in so long, Raymond had been named dead in a fire from their childhood, while Damon had survived.

"N-Nothing!" she said quickly.

Too quickly, he noted, narrowing his eyes. "Christie..."

"H-Honestly, he didn't say anything to me. I mean, he sprouted some bullshit about killing me, but that was expected given how he—umm, y'know."

"Kidnapped you and chained you up?" finished Vix. He didn't like how Christie was trying to brush off her kidnapping so nonchalantly. She was obviously hiding something. "I don't care about Damon anymore; honest. So it's fine to tell me what happened. And be truthful. There's no need to sugarcoat anything just because he used to raise me. I no longer see him as family."

He could see Raymond slowly shifting back into his stoic, sagely persona, gathering the supplies he needed once more. However, this time he seemed slower—sadder, somehow.

Christie looked away, biting her lip. She looks kind of cute, Vix noted. He immediately proceeded to mentally kick himself. He was her bodyguard—and friend; nothing more, nothing less.

"...You don't have to tell us if you don't wish to." Raymond turned back toward them, and Vix's eyes flashed irritation at the man's abrupt decision that he had not given consent to.

"Thank you, Raymond." Christie smiled gratefully at him, looking relieved.

Raymond simply closed his brown eyes and nodded once in acknowledgement. Then he began bandaging up Vix's sprained ankle.

Vix stared at the man's hooded face. Despite revealing his true identity and looks, Raymond still wore a hood. It was almost as if he were ashamed of sharing the same face as his brother, Damon. "Raymond?" he finally said.

"Yes?" the man responded, focused on Vix's ankle.

"...Can I ask you a question?"

He paused. "I suppose so. What would you like to ask, young one?"

"Damon said that you're supposed to be dead from some kind of fire. What happened to you? How are you alive?"

"...Ah." That was Raymond's only response for awhile.

"Well?" prompted Vix.

The older man sighed, "I knew this question was coming." He tied the final knot on Vix's bandaged leg and got up. "But yes, I was supposed to be dead."

"Did Damon try to kill you?" Vix asked, trying to ignore the pain the idea brought him.

"No, no. Damon was... Damon tried his best as my brother." Raymond suddenly looked pained. He sighed and pulled his hood down. Vix was still startled by the striking resemblance between the two twins.

"Then what happened?" he pressed.

"...That is a story for another day. I believe that it's something I should explain when the entire gang is here—Shamus, Danes—even Ross and the others." Raymond's brown eyes looked troubled. "There's too much to discuss."

"Please tell us a little—" Vix tried.

Christie piped up softly, "Vix... He shouldn't have to tell us if he's not ready to. You heard him. He'll tell us one day, but not today."

Raymond glanced at her gratefully. "Thank you, little one."

"Just repaying you for your kindness," she responded, referencing to how he had let her keep her secret—but perhaps she was also referring to how he'd healed her parents, was healing her brother, and how he was now healing Vix.

Vix sighed. "Alright, fine. I get it. I just wish I could know just a little bit about your history with Damon right now."

Raymond paused, seemingly considering his offer. "I am willing to answer one question."

Vix blinked, surprised. He wanted to think of a good question. One that would give him a good answer, but not trouble Raymond too much. He swallowed hard. "I-I would like to leave that choice up to you. I-I don't want to trouble you, so you can pick what to answer..." He trailed off.

The man before him looked surprised. "Really? You have no burning questions you want to ask?"

"N-No, I mean—I do, but...they can wait. I don't want to trouble you. You can answer something for me, please."

"...Very well. If that is what you wish." Raymond waited until Vix had nodded before continuing. "Well, I guess I'll tell you something about Damon when he was a young boy. Before the fire." He paused, looking sad again. "Damon and I were always competitive, but in a friendly and loving way. Or so I thought. Maybe he hid more malicious feelings underneath his facade, but"—here he paused and quickly changed the subject a bit—"I could tell he always did his best! Yes...I don't know what happened, but he was always a good brother..."

Vix glanced down at his hands. "You said—You said that Damon did his best as your brother."

"Yes, I did say that, didn't I?"

"But this second answer makes so much more sense. It fits his character more. Damon—Damon is a murderer! There's no way...he ever loved someone like me..." He began shaking, hands tightening on the blankets lain down on top of his legs. Tears dropped from his lowered face onto the pale, pink fabric. "He lied..."

"Vix..." Christie reached out, before hesitating. Her hand dropped lamely and she bit her lip, looking away. Damon must pay for what he's done to you. He may be right about how much I have hurt you, but he's a hypocrite who's hurt you even more. I promise I'll find him for you and make him pay. I promise, Vix. So please stop crying. The words she couldn't say aloud seemed to tumble around inside her brain, desperate to come out despite her inability to say them.

Instead of her saying anything, it was Raymond who spoke. "I'm so sorry, Vix."

"What? Why?" sniffled the redheaded teen, looking up in surprise.

"Y-You've been through so much." Raymond had the briefest moment of unsureness, but now he stood firm.

"I-I don't need pity." He wiped his eyes.

"I know. You never did."

"H-How would you know?" Vix didn't mean to sound harsh.

Raymond swallowed, not replying briefly.

"It doesn't matter." Vix opened his wet eyes and stared down at his hands, which were bundled into fists. His arm trembled as he gritted his teeth and tried not to cry even more. "Damon lied to me all my life. He probably even lied about loving me as a son. He even made me a living weapon under the guise that it was to 'save' me. To 'protect' me. He should've just left me to die! I hate him. I hate him for lying to me. That's all he ever was; a liar and a thief and a killer."

"No, you don't deserve to die—" Christie tried to say, but her meek words were drowned out by Vix's now angry ranting.

"He betrayed my trust! He said he loved me like a father loves a son, and I fell for it hook-line-and-sinker. I'm so stupid! Why didn't I see through his act?"

"...Maybe because it wasn't an act," Raymond finally whispered.

Vix glanced up, startled. "What...?"

"Maybe he truly loved you, Vix."

He turned away. "Don't patronize me. I'm not going to keep lying to myself like he did to me."

"Vix," Christie said softly, not sure what else to say to comfort him.

"He lied to me! That's all there is. He never loved me," Vix spat, shaking violently. The tears were coming again, this time bigger and faster.

"Oh Vix, Damon always loved you. So, so much..."

Vix blinked, startled. He looked up. The sincerity in Raymond's chocolate-brown gaze and his voice was so strong that Vix almost felt as though it was Damon himself saying it. "H-How do you know?" he stammered, not in a rude tone, but rather a genuinely "I-want-to-know" one.

Raymond looked away. "I...I was 'dead' for awhile, right? When I came to, I decided to track my brother down. Because he was family, and because he might not have died in the fire. We had to stick together. It took a long, long time, but I found him living in a cabin. I-Imagine my shock when I found out that he'd adopted a young boy named Vix. And he'd taken it upon himself to train six other super-powered boys. And well... Just watching him—and all of you—I could tell how genuine his love was. He was so proud and happy and just so filled with care for you boys that I couldn't see it as fake."

Vix stared down at his hands. He was still crying, silently now, and his trembling had stopped. "How could you tell?" he rasped.

"He acted so happy even when you guys were gone. He was always proud of you seven. M-Maybe his pride was because you were all great weapons or something, but his love was obviously real."

Vix squeezed his eyes shut, leaning forward until his forehead touched the blanket over his knees. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuuuuuck!"

"Are you alright?" questioned Christie, finally working up the nerve to touch him on the shoulder.

"I can't do this!" he cried. "I told myself I hate him. I told him I hate him—in front of everyone too! But...do I really? Or am I just lying to myself? If his love for me was real, then it's even harder to still hate him! I-I thought I had everything figured out. But now my head's even more of a mess than before! I want to hate him. And I think I hate him, but there's still this small part of me... I-It misses him—the old him. Even though I should completely and 100% hate him. So why can't I?"

"I-I'm sorry." Raymond swallowed in surprise, looking genuinely guilty. Although...something else stirred within... "But—you asked for answers, and I gave them to you. I'm sorry if they weren't satisfactory, but that's the way things are. I'm sorry, Vix. But Damon truly loved you."

Vix lowered his hands, which had been in a curled claw pose and had also been shaking beside his now lowered head. "No... I-It's okay. I truly loved him too." He looked up, smiling sadly. "...Thank you, Raymond."

Before Raymond could reply, a newcomer's voice sounded:

"...How touching."

Vix froze, gulping. Such a dry and unimpressed tone could only belong to one man—a man of terrifying stature. "Danes!" he gasped, looking up.

Danes stood in the doorway, his large, muscular arms folded neatly. His eyes were narrowed and he didn't look happy.

Raymond swiftly pulled his hood back on, turning away; while Christie jumped up, ready to defend Vix. Vix himself was staring up at Danes in both panic and shock, not sure what the large man was going to say or do.

Finally, Danes sighed and stepped inside. "We need to talk. All of us."

The said "all of us" gulped nervously.


Tyrone had certainly noticed a sudden shift in dynamic between his friends. Shamus carried on, oblivious to the tension—as did Danes—or perhaps the astute, large man just didn't care, like he so often didn't. It was impossible to tell with his monotone voice and stoic expression. Damon, however, had become distant—he acted cheery enough, but he avoided Sylvie and Tyrone felt as though Damon was acting extra cold towards him.

Damon had even warmed up to Shamus, dropping the whole "we're friends and rivals" shtick while Shamus confusedly carried on with said shtick. Tyrone wondered if Damon thought the entire fiasco with Sylvie was his fault. It's not! Tyrone wailed helplessly inside. I don't know why she rejected such a great man like you, Damon. I swear I don't know. Please don't hate me.

Speaking of Sylvie, she had become distant as well. She didn't show signs of coldness like Damon, but she did show signs of depression. Tyrone was frequently worried for the girl he called his "little sister"—but is that really the only reason? His mind asked these questions almost as often as he worried now, sharp and terrifying. If there was another reason, then perhaps Damon and Shamus had a reason to be mad at him, after all. And Tyrone didn't want that. He kept trying to convince himself that it was nothing, despite the strange feelings he would get around Sylvie now. He felt extra protective, like he wanted to care for her and shield her and just hold her in his arms

Goddammit, Tyrone! Stop going there. That's not what you want to do. She's your "little sister", isn't she!? He mentally hit himself, trying to get a grip.

"What's wrong with you?" Danes' rough voice sliced through Tyrone's panicked mind.

"A-Ah; nothing. I'm sorry; it seems that I'm just a bit tired from training all day with Father," he lied through his teeth, which he'd been doing a lot lately. It got easier and easier as time went on.

Danes narrowed his eyes but didn't push further. In that moment, Tyrone was truly grateful that his friend was too "emotionless" to really care out loud. Meanwhile, the people that would openly care (Damon, Sylvie, Shamus) were all distracted at the moment and Tyrone had never been so glad for the sudden shift in dynamic. It was the only time he liked their new relationship. He mostly just wished they could all go back to being happy friends.

Damon wasn't looking at anyone, flipping a straw between his fingers. He was slouched forward, chin resting on his arms. His brown hair was combed back and he wore a bandana around his neck with a plaid button-up. He sat across from Sylvie, who stared at her lap while biting her lip. Damon's eyes would trail towards her sometimes, but she wouldn't meet his gaze so he usually focused back on his straw.

Tyrone noted that Sylvie looked quite beautiful in her flowery yellow dress and black boots and white stockings. Then he screamed inwardly and mentally bashed his skull against a wall.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" Shamus whispered from beside his brother.

Tyrone tried to suppress an exasperated groan. If not my head, then my brother, he sighed inwardly. Out loud he murmured, "Sure, I guess."

Shamus shook his head. "You don't know true beauty when you see it, dear brother. Ah well; I'm thankful, at least. One less person to compete with for Sylvie's heart."

The guilt clawed at Tyrone's stomach and made him slump forwards, clutching the said stomach in pain. "Ah, yeah; sure..." He swallowed.

"Are you okay, Ty?" his brother questioned in concern, using a louder tone this time.

Damon glanced at them before turning away.

"I'm fine," sighed Tyrone, resting his forehead on the cool surface of the restaurant table.

Something snapped above him, and he glanced upwards. Damon was still facing the side, but he'd stopped twirling the straw. It had broken in half in his hand. Damon wouldn't meet his gaze as he announced, "I'm going to the washroom."

"Alright; see you in a bit," Shamus said cheerfully, unaware of the growing tension. Danes grunted in response; Tyrone could only wave half-heartedly.

He heard Sylvie sigh softly. Damon did too—he glanced at her briefly, and clear signs of hurt and pain and heartbreak and desire and regret flashed across his face before he turned away and walked off. Tyrone swallowed.

Two minutes passed and a waitress appeared, handing out their drinks. "Ten more minutes until your orders are ready," she noted before walking away.

Six passed and Damon had yet to come back.

"I'm going to use the washroom too." Tyrone got up, ignoring the rumble of pain in his stomach.

The restaurant they were in was decorated to look like a cave, with crystalline walls and pillars resembling stalagmites and stalactites.

The restaurant was fancy, but not over-the-top. A huge chandelier hung above them, decorated with ornate crystals that reflected light and cast rainbows on the dark walls. There were fake ivy vines made from silver metal, which snaked up columns that supported the ceiling. A bar was nearby, with a dance floor that only a few people were currently on. The tables were futuristically shaped like smooth circles, and were black (sort of like a rock). More fake, silver vines lined the middle of the black walls, this time resembling grape vines. Abstract art lined the walls, adding a splash of colour (usually red). Red velvet curtains hung from doors and windows. The chairs were black with red velvet on top, and the futuristic tables had a small red tablecloth draped over them, acting like a large placemat. From the ceiling hung long spikes made from dangling crystals carved to look like stalactites. The floor had spikes too, shaped like stalagmites, but there wasn't nearly as many—probably for safety reasons. The floor was soft red carpet specked with black.**

Tyrone got into the men's washroom and sighed. The floor there was made up of black tiles that were speckled with other small colours, causing it to gleam. A chandelier hung above them (albeit much less fancy than the one outside), and small stalactites dangled from the ceiling. A few stalagmites lined the floor by the sinks, which looked like giant crystal rocks. The bathroom stalls were black too, and even the urinals looked fancy and crystal-like, glimmering beneath the light.

Tyrone glanced around. No sign of Damon. He went into a stall to conduct his business. The toilets were silver, resembling stones (albeit well-crafted ones). The toilet paper holders looked like stones too. When he finished and went to the sink to wash his hands, he also splashed water onto his face to try and wake himself up. After wiping his now wet eyes so he could see, he was surprised to see Damon's reflection behind him in the crystalline mirror.

"...Were you crying?" Damon asked.

"No," Tyrone murmured, suddenly feeling awkward and even worried. "I splashed water onto my face."

"Ah. Because the great Tyrone would never cry, am I right?"

"That's not true."

Damon began circling him. "Really? Your life seems pretty perfect to me. Why would you ever have to cry? Do you even understand pain? How much hurt have you gone through?"

"Damon... Why are you acting like this?" Tyrone asked, eyeing his pacing friend.

As if that were some sort of trigger, Damon spun around and yelled, "Because you haven't suffered the way I have! You've always won, even when you don't deserve to." He balled his hands into fists. "Even when you don't try. I try, Tyrone. And yet you keep succeeding without any real effort. You keep stealing my successes from me."

"Damon... I'm sorry." Tyrone's eyes were wide. "I-I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."

Now Damon calmed down. His shoulders fell and he sighed, closing his eyes as he unbundled his fists. "I'm sorry too," he finally murmured.

Tyrone blinked in surprise. "Damon...?"

"I am terrible," his friend finally said, throwing his hands up into the air. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Ty. I guess I had to burst to release all that negative energy. I-I would never want to hurt you or hate you or stay mad at you for long. I-I guess I'm just a little jealous. But you're like a brother to me, and I can't let my feelings get in the way of what's important. It's... It's not your fault, Tyrone."

"Oh... I-It's okay." He swallowed awkwardly, still unsure what he had done that had upset his best friend.

Damon turned on his heel. "Let's get back. They're probably wondering if we drowned in these fancy toilets or something." He paused. "I'm trying not to blame you. I know you're a great person, and I respect you. You're my best friend. I wouldn't stay mad at you forever. Honest. So don't worry about it."

Tyrone was speechless. He was still trying to process Damon's rant, much less his apology.

Damon glanced back, already halfway out the door. "You coming, you airhead?" he called teasingly.

"A-Ah! C-Coming." Tyrone hurried after his best friend, before slowing down to a walk. He stared at the back of Damon's head, wondering just what had upset him in the first place, and why he would think or feel that way. Everything seemed back to normal. He settled into his chair with Damon and listened to their friends' comments about how they thought the two "had drowned in those fancy toilets" (Damon had predicted correctly). And yet, Tyrone could still sense some sort of tension or awkwardness or distance between him and Damon despite the fact they were now "all good".

He swallowed. He hated this feeling. Glancing at Damon, who was too busy laughing at a remark of Danes, he felt his stomach turn. If anything, I have reason to be jealous of you, Damon. You're one of the greatest men I've ever known, he thought, a twinge of sadness passing through him.

Damon finally noticed his staring and smiled somewhat at his friend, offering a small wave before turning back to Shamus and Danes. Tyrone waved back awkwardly. He sighed and turned away, only to meet eyes with Sylvie.

"We need to talk," she whispered, glancing at Damon with pain and regret.

Tyrone gulped down his nervous pain and got up to follow her away.

Damon paused in his joking to watch them go, a sad, bittersweet smile passing through his face. It's already time, huh...

Tyrone stopped when Sylvie stopped. Her head was bowed and she was gripping her hands together above her chest. "Sylvie...?" he prompted, tilting his head to the side.

"Tyrone, I-I can't take it anymore." When she turned around, he was panicked when he saw tears.

"Sylvie, I—" He took a step toward her, hands outstretched.

She sighed and turned away, closing her eyes to wipe her tears. "I just—I can't stand this newfound tension between everyone. I'm sorry I broke his heart, but I can't love Damon!"

"It's not your fault," he murmured desperately, lowering his hands. He wanted to hold her so bad at the moment; but he knew he couldn't. He hated seeing her hurting like this. It broke his heart.

"Tyrone, I-I love someone else. But how am I supposed to know they love me back? Did I do the right thing with Damon? Even though my love could break my heart like I broke his, and neither of us will find love."

"I'm sure whoever you like likes you back," he said weakly, feeling helpless. It sounded so lame, but it was all he could think to say.

She smiled somewhat sadly. "Thank you, but I don't know if that's the case."

"Then why not tell them? I-If they reject you, that's okay. Damon is a good man. He's willing to love you even if your crush isn't."

"I don't want to make Damon the fall-back man because he would never like that and I'd hate to dishonour him, but thank you. I know you're just trying to help. But there's only one way to make me feel better about all of this." She looked down and away from him, suddenly quiet.

"Sylvie...?" he questioned.

She looked up so quickly that he nearly jumped back in surprise. "Tyrone, I—I have something I need to confess," she announced.

"Wh-What is it?" He instinctively took a step back, feeling his heart beat faster. No, it can't be...

She was already walking towards him, grabbing his hands. "I-I love you, Tyrone!"

He stared at her, suddenly feeling dizzy. It is. And at that very moment, everything made sense—it was as if all the pieces had finally fallen into place. Damon, Sylvie, him... Everything.

Before he could respond, she had tiptoed up to kiss him.


*(A/N: Reference to chapter 47!)

**(A/N: Reference to chapter 45!)

ME: Guess what that reference to chapter 45 means!? *pauses* Yes indeed if any of you recognized the description of the restaurant, it's the same as the one from chapter 45 where DJ took Bliss on a date! Looks like that place has been standing for quite awhile. *winks*

BLISS: How could I forget? That was our first real date...

ME: Speaking of restaurants, I got a job working at one! Yaaaay?

BRICK: *sarcastically* Oh, goooood for you.

ME: *ignores him* So...how do you all feel?

BANDIT: ...I kissed Bunny.

ME: Yessssss.

BANDIT: How am I supposed to feel?

BUNNY: *blushes madly*

BRICK: What's all this talk about "marking"? Is it going to harm Blossom?

ME: Oh, that's not important right now. What, are you worried for her?

BRICK: ...Shut up.

BUTTERCUP: And what's this about me having something to say to Ross?

ME: That's a secret.

BUTCH: Hey, this is my story and I'm supposed to get the girl.

BUTTERCUP: *kicks him* SHUT UP YOU IDIOT I'M NOT A PRIZE TO BE WON OR SOME SHIT.

ME: You guys will get a lot more focus in the coming chapters. Yay greens! *winks* Sorry the story got all over the place. It's still a Butchercup fic—or maybe a "Butteross" one hehe—but I do like where it's gone despite it delving into focus on all the Puffs and Ruffs.

BUBBLES: Like the fact that Boomer is comforting me now?

ME: Hehe, yeah.

BRAKER: And I'm still no closer to getting the girl despite being awake now.

ME: You just gotta wait and see~ Looks like Vix and Raymond had an interesting talk, and we got to look into the past of Tyrone once more. What's more, we got to see the confession!

BUTTERCUP: ...Looks like Ross and Sydney talked some more too.

ME: Yeaaaaah. What, are you jealous?

BUTTERCUP: *blushes* N-No! A-Anyway, what about that last scene with Harry!? Or Danes and Jamel? Or even Sampson and Cassandra!

ME: Oh, that? That's for me to know, and you to find out!

BUTTERCUP: Screw you.

VIX: Yo, leave a review please. Or whatever, I don't care.

ME: Thanks a lot, OC... I brought you to life and you don't even care if I get reviews?

VIX: After all the shit you've put me through, why should I care so much!?

ME: ...Ruuuuude.

VIX: UGH FINE. *rolls eyes* Review, please. *glares at me* There, happy?

ME: *smiles* Very.