**Rated T for language and some violence.**
-Eleven Years Ago-
John Utonium was a brilliant man. A genius, really. It had taken him a few years to find his calling, sure, so he was never considered a "child prodigy" or anything of that sort, but discovering his brilliance during grade school was hardly a late start. He had had years to practice his craft, and practice he did. His life passed him by in a steady blur of notes and equations. Success came quickly and easily. He was highly regarded amongst his peers. Truly, truly brilliant.
But for all of his brilliance, the echoing, ringing, screaming emptiness of his home, of his life, of his everything served as a constant reminder that sometimes sacrifices must be made for success. He had earned diploma after diploma, reward after reward, and who was there to witness his greatness?
Nobody. Not a single bloody soul but the test monkey that clambered around in its cage, or even occasionally around Utonium's lab itself. But right now the monkey was quiet, observant. John's latest experiment had proven successful, and the monkey's once-simple mind was now able to comprehend the heaviness of the atmosphere, the indications of major changes about to occur within the room, and seemed to be waiting nervously from its place in the corner. The silence of the lab pounded in John's ears and once again he was reminded of his absolute, utter loneliness. It stung him. For all of his faults, he had always pictured himself as a family man. A kind husband, a good father. Maybe he was not the most suave or svelte man in the universe, but surely there had to be somebody out there for him.
Although, it was rather difficult to meet somebody when all of one's time was spent in a lab.
The gray hairs that had begun to pepper his hair at the temples had caused some small amount of panic. He was running out of time. His window was closing. Likely, he would never find "the perfect woman." That family that he had always pictured cheering him on as he was granted yet another reward for his work, that he could take to the banquets and ceremonies held in his honor, that would be there when he came home from work and provide some small amount of noise in the background to cut through the sheer devastating silence that pervaded his lab otherwise - well, that picture was slowly slipping away.
He had become desperate. Sure, it was...an unusual way of going about things, but he was going to solve this problem the only way he knew how - through science. He may not be able to find "the perfect woman," but he sure as hell was going to have the perfect child.
The jeering laughter and looks of shock and horror rattled around his brilliant mind as he worked. How dare they dismiss him from his position at the university. He was the best one there, damn it. An absolute and utter genius. They saw what he had been able to accomplish with that chimp. He had created a great intellect out of a mere simple-minded creature! Never before had such an accomplishment been made within the great realm of science. Never. So, of course, it only stood to reason that he should continue his work, move on to the next great project. A project that would solve his own problems - killing two birds with one stone, in a manner of speaking.
Alchemy. Witchcraft. "Playing God." What did those fools at the university know? That was what they were after all. Fools. For only a fool would fear the unknown. But a superior intellect such as himself did not balk at such things. No, if John Utonium wished to create life, then by golly he would. He was no Victor Frankenstein. This wasn't a monster cobbled together out of leftover pieces of a rotting corpse. And goodness knows he wouldn't even touch the thought of galvanism. No, he was just a normal man whose secret dream had never been realized. Until now.
The ingredients had been added with extreme care. Two pots stood boiling before him, swirling and roiling, both of them a mix of reds, pinks, golds, and oranges. Utonium had some...doubts...as it were, about a few of the ingredients. They were not what he had been expecting, but when a dead end had left him to try something unusual - well, the whole process was unusual, so what could it hurt? He had noted, with some amusement, that his chemical brews had reacted rather strongly with these few particular substances.
To the pot on the left, he added the final three ingredients. Funnily enough, he had found his answers in an old nursery rhyme. Quietly, he murmured "snips and snails and puppy-dog tails" to himself as he watched the substance boil more vigorously. He had found an early text of the nursery rhyme using the word "snig" instead of snip, which he soon found was a term for a sort of eel used in a northern area of England. Surely this would be the more reactive material. He couldn't imagine how human hair would have helped, and certainly didn't want to risk his perfect little boy harboring someone else's personality because of it. Eels were fast, sleek, adaptable. Surely...surely...
Perhaps he was overthinking. He hadn't even tried the human hair method - or the "snips," as it were. Perhaps he should...perhaps...
No. If this failed, then he would try again with that particular ingredient in place of the eel. He was already too far into this brew to make any sudden changes.
He didn't add much of each ingredient, just about enough for what he believed was needed for a single child. Then he turned to the second pot.
At first, he had only considered a single child, but he soon came to the conclusion that it would be a mistake. After all, the child would be left to his own devices while Utonium was working. No, he most certainly needed a companion. A sister. And then Utonium would have both a boy and a girl, and his family would finally become a reality.
He sprinkled sugar into the mixture. A potent mixture of spices followed behind it. And, finally, an odd assortment of what he considered to be "everything nice" - a wildflower in full bloom (something from his backyard - a buttercup, perhaps?), a simple child's toy (bubbles seemed to be a favorite of small children, so it only stood to reason that he should use that as the assigned plaything), a shining red ribbon that had been given to him by a childhood crush of his, and the thick tome of a well-loved book (Milton's "Paradise Lost," as a nod to the "Frankenstein" insinuations given by the other academics who had scorned him). Those ingredients made the second pot rather more full than the first, but he would just have to find a way to dispose of the leftovers later.
The ingredients were in, but the two large pots stood much as they had before. Not a single change had occurred. Utonium's eyebrows knit together and his forehead creased in frustration. Were his calculations off? He shot a look at the large beaker of black liquid that sat on a shelf nearby. He knew it was necessary, but should he use it after all? No. The substance was too new. He had no idea what it was capable of.
Then again, it had worked with Jojo...
He picked up the beaker with shaking hands and carried over to his concoction. The one on the left had slowed in its boiling and was merely rolling slightly at the top. That would have to be the one he tried it on first. He lifted the beaker and held it above the pot. His hands still shook as he poured, and more sloshed over the sides than he had intended. A lot more than he had intended. But the reaction was immediate. It looked promising. He would add some to the other pot as well.
He turned to his right. He had managed to gain some control over his hands, and an even, well-measured portion was carefully poured into the second mixture. Less than the first, but it produced a similar reaction nonetheless.
Utonium backed away slightly and watched. The rolling waves began to bubble and sputter over the edges, building and building in pressure until-
The explosion knocked him backward. The monkey in the corner screeched and rattled his cage at the blast. No. No! He had put so much work into this, so much time, risked everything! Surely it couldn't have failed. He had...but...what...what was that?
Two large eyes blinked back at him, one set a bright, clear, shining rosy pink; the other a harsh, sickly glowing orange.
-Present-
Butch tried to stretch his arms out, but the damn shield was really limiting his movement. He barely had enough room to breathe. Not to mention just how hot it was in this stupid little bubble. Any smell, every breath he let out, it all was trapped in this stupid little bubble, and the damn thing was starting to reek.
Looking to his sides he could see his brothers in their own little "containment" units. They looked about as uncomfortable as he did. Boomer was leaning against the side of his bubble, muttering to himself. There was that sad look again. Was he gonna cry? Geez, suck it up, man. They couldn't look weak in front of the stupid police. That would just make them seem guilty.
It had been three weeks. Three whole fuckin' weeks and they had barely been let out of these stupid bubbles to even piss. He had to sleep practically standing up. Damn Townsville. Damn police. Arresting him and his bros for something they didn't even do. There he had been, studying for some dumb math test that he had to retake - again - when a whole fuckin' swat team bursts down the door.
Had he broken any laws? No. Had his brothers broken any laws? No. Hell, the damn monkey hadn't even been up to anything at that point. So why were he and his bros here?
Because Mr. Big Bad Police Chief had a gut feeling that they had committed a robbery downtown a few weeks ago. And they had been there ever since.
Ah, there was the idiot of the hour now. He was pretty new, only just recently replaced the chief that had been there since Butch had been born, and it seemed like he was trying to prove a point. Whatever, asshole, make an example out of someone else. Butch was innocent. Well, innocent was a loose term. But he sure as hell didn't rob that bank!
The chief - Johnson, or whatever his name was - leered at him from the other side of the forcefield, or whatever it was.
"Well, well, Rowdy boys. How's it feel to finally be behind bars?"
No, not Johnson. It was Jamison. Or just James? Johanson?
"LISTEN FREAKS! I got a pretty little Powerpuff who wants to talk to yall, so you gonna cooperate or do we gotta hit you with a special little antidote?"
Could be Jackson. Jarvis? Jacobs? What had he been saying? Did Butch even care?
No, he did not.
Oh look, the shield was lifting. Was it their potty break already?
"STEP OUT SLOWLY. HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS - KEEP 'EM WHERE WE CAN SEE 'EM!"
Brick and Boomer were stepping out of their own little bubbles. Guess that was his cue to leave, too, then.
He was separated from his brothers by a line of guards, and the three of them were marched slowly down this hallway, then that hallway, and then another hallway, and - oh look, a set of stairs. That was fun. Nice way to shake things up a bit. Let's see, where were they now? Looked like the main floor. Oh, was that an interrogation room? Fun, fun.
Butch was shoved down into a chair and handcuffed to the table. Well, shoved was a strong word. He could feel the officer trying and decided to throw him a bone and sit down nice and quiet.
It was awfully crowded in the investigation room, what with three chairs sitting on one side of a table for him and his brothers, two chairs on the other side, and guards lining the walls. Mayor Bellum walked in, her shining red heels clicking with each step. He had to admit the lady was still pretty smokin', even at her age. She took one of the seats across the table, and Chief What's-His-Name took the other. Were all of these people there just to see him and his brothers? Aw, how sweet.
They were waiting for something. He could practically smell the guards pissing themselves with excitement. Chief Jackass shot him another confident, jeering, toothy grin as the door opened again.
Gosh, Butch wanted to punch those teeth out.
The room got quieter - if that was even possible - as one cute little pink Puff walked in. Cute? The hell? Dammit, not another slip. That had been happening a lot more often lately. If his brothers caught wind of him...
No. Nevermind. There was nothing to think about there. He and his brain had already had a long, hard talking to about that new little habit, and he knew better than to give a voice to that teeny tiny minuscule little part of his brain that didn't entirely despise Blossom Utonium. So what if she wasn't as annoying as her sisters? So what if she had started wearing skirts again lately? So what if he had to sit behind her in his history class. So what if he could smell the soft scent of roses for hours after that class was over? Didn't mean anything. Nope. Not a single thing.
She did look exhausted, though. Her normally bright eyes looked glassy and tired, and the deep purple bags underneath them made them even more rounded than normal. Butch idly wondered what it could be that would keep Pinkypuff up at night. A grin broke out across his face as he thought about himself being the thing that kept her up at night. Brick shot him an annoyed look from his place at the other end of the table.
The Puff in question set a stack of papers on the table and looked around the room. Ah, yes, there was the smell of roses. He let himself enjoy it a bit. Not that he, ya know, liked the smell or anything, but he had been stuck in a nasty prison for three weeks, after all. Anything clean-smelling would have been a nice change.
Pink eyes wandered the room, briefly meeting with Brick's. Her eyes narrowed at the contact. Was that a challenge, Pinkypie? Butch could use some entertainment, and a red showdown seemed interesting. It had been a looooong three weeks. Go ahead. Try to tell his brother why he was such a bad guy. Just try him. Brick had facts, proof, an alibi. His brother had thought about every single detail proving his innocence - out loud, no less - in these past weeks, and he was ready to throw them out to anyone who tried to tell him otherwise.
It had been a very. Very. Long. Three. Weeks.
An exasperated sigh cut through the room, and the guards all stood a little straighter. What a bunch of pansies. She hadn't even said a single word, and they were still standing at attention like she was some sort of general or somethin'. She started pacing across what little space was left next to the table. Her eyes gave Butch and Boomer a once-over - not the the blue noticed, since Boomer's eyes were darting around the room so quickly Butch could feel a breeze coming off of them. She shook her head and turned away again.
Now, Butch didn't know Blossom very well. He rarely talked to her at school unless it was absolutely necessary - like if she was trying to break up a fight he had started - and Buttercup was the only Puff he had actually physically fought in years. But see, he had been in the business of getting on Powerpuff nerves for a long enough time that he could tell when she was getting angry. It was always subtle, but he could tell. Her shoulders would tense up defensively, her eyebrows would arch ever-so-slightly, and her bottom lip would appear to grow slightly smaller as she sucked it in to bite down on it, but not so much that it was noticeable. At least, not to anyone other than him, anyways. It was almost adorable.
No, no it was not. Dammit, mind-Butch, just shut up.
She flashed a smile to the room. It was fake. Dangerous. A mask to cover up the anger that was clearly building. Well, if she wants a fight, then-
Wait.
That smile wasn't being pointed at him or his brothers.
...
Was it pointed at Chief Jerkface?
"Chief Matthews, I understand that you have arrested the Misters Jojo in connection to the robbery of Townsville First National Bank, yes?" Well damn, Butch hadn't even been close to getting the guy's name right.
"Yes," the idiot said smugly, flashing yet another nasty grin.
"The robbery on September thirteenth, correct?"
"That is correct." Ugh, those teeth we so yellow.
"You were the one who personally ordered that these boys-" she gestured towards the Rowdyruffs and Butch frowned. He was a man, dammit "-be arrested the next night?"
"Indeed." And the teeth were crooked, too. Really, Butch could fix those easily with just a single punch. He would be doing the chief a favor. If he hit hard enough to knock them out, workman's comp would probably pay to get the guy a whole new set.
"And did you read the report before making the arrest?" There was a pause after that question, and the smile slid off the asshole's face. Well, now now, wasn't that interesting?
"Yes." That reply was strained. Very interesting. Out of the corner of his eye, Butch could see Brick straighten up in his seat and lean forward.
"The report that I personally made and handed in to the Police Department after handling the situation with my sisters a full twenty-five minutes before any officers were able to make it to the scene?" The anger was growing on Blossom's face. Oh, there were gears turning in the pretty little head of hers.
DAMN IT MIND-BUTCH, JUST SHUT UP.
Yes, there were gears turning in that very average head of hers.
There was a much longer pause before the chief answered with another angry "Yes."
"You see, I don't quite buy that, because in that report-"
"ARE YOU CALLIN' ME A LIAR," the jerk roared. Butch's hand twisted into a fist at that. So chief thought he was a tough guy, yelling at a Powerpuff?
"-I had clearly stated that there were seven robbers, all evidently non-super, and all aged in their mid-twenties and above." She finished talking as though she didn't hear his outburst and paused for comment. No one said anything, and the chief glared angrily at her.
"So imagine my surprise," the ginger teen continued, "when I was going through the monthly reports and didn't find a single one of the robbers that my sisters and I had personally rounded up and quite literally handed to your officers. No, apparently they had 'escaped' and ALL SEVEN were able to elude you. So I searched through the report and found no evidence of an investigation launched as to their whereabouts. No, in fact, these men weren't mentioned ever again after my own report."
Her hands slammed down on the table and she leaned in towards the now cowering chief. "And I thought, 'oh, maybe it's been misplaced.' That does, after all, happen from time to time. So I made a little trip down to the precinct and did a little digging, and I found it funny that no investigation in regards to the actual culprits appears to exist anywhere within your files." Part of the stack of papers she had brought in was slid across the table. The chief, ugly smile now long gone, stared at it with wide eyes as Mayor Bellum picked it up and scanned the pages.
"Ya know what, I think that's enough for this little interrogation today. Why don't we just go ahead and wrap this all up," Chief Matthews said while reaching for the papers when it became apparent that Bellum wasn't happy with what she was reading. A hand shot out and blocked his before it even came close to the pages, and suddenly Blossom was leaning over the older man's shoulder.
"Oh no, Chief Matthews. I prepared a whole big speech on this matter just for you, and I really think you ought to hear it out." Uh oh, Butch knew that look. That look was one he had used plenty of times in the past decade or so. Pinkypie was ready for a fight.
She shook out a couple of pages and held them up in front of her, her eyes flicking from the page to Butch and his brothers, then back again.
"So if you look here, we have shots from the CCTV footage of the bank robbery. Now really, I don't see any resemblance between our dear Rowdyruffs and these robbers, do you?" She shoved the pages under the chief's nose. "So unless you know something that I don't, or somehow these three magically gained the ability to both change their appearance and multiply themselves, then I don't really see the purpose of putting them in jail."
"Well, I...they...you see...but...THEY'RE FREAKS! Evil! A menace to society," the chief sputtered. Blossom was already shaking her head at the response before it had even finished.
"No, well, you see, once again I find myself unable to agree. If you take a look at their file," she pulled a folder out from her stack of papers and threw that down in front of Mayor Bellum, "you would see that they haven't committed a felony in about, what is it now? Eight years? And they already did the time for that. Now, there have been a couple of misdemeanors-" she shot Brick a glare at that "-but those have also already been addressed and taken care of. At best they are a minor nuisance."
Aw. That was the nicest thing she had ever said about Butch.
"Did you even have a warrant when you went to arrest them?" Blossom's voice was rising in volume and the pink tint on her cheeks grew stronger. Butch smiled. He was thoroughly enjoying every moment of this.
"Well, no, you see-" The asshole really should just stop trying. All he was doing was riling her up more. And riling her up ought to be Butch's job. MIND-BUTCH, STOP IT. JUST. STOP. He really needed to have another long talk with himself after this. This was bad behavior, and not his normal kind of bad.
"Mayor Bellum, I told you that this man wasn't fit for this job. He has incarcerated three minors for a crime they didn't commit, despite all the obvious evidence proving their innocence. And notice how there's no mention of a trial date? No, he was just going to leave them locked up here for an undisclosed amount of time. Why, you might ask? Well, see, I think he was proving a point. Trying to show what a big, bad, tough guy he really was. He was making sure we all took him seriously."
"I resent that!" Ugh, what a stupid, stupid man.
"You know what I resent? I resent people purposely breaking the law." She slammed another paper on the table. "I resent people abusing their positions." Another paper. "I resent people giving me more paperwork to do just so they can prove a point." Another paper. The room was getting colder, and Blossom's eyes were flashing with anger. "And do you want to know why?"
"Go ahead and tell 'im why, princess," Butch called out. Pink eyes flashed over to him briefly before turning back to the police chief.
"It's because I have to clean up your mess when everything hits the fan." Blossom stood up straight and rubbed at her temples. Damn, she looked tired.
"I have too much going on right now to deal with this. Miss Bellum, I sent a report to your office this morning. I think you can agree in this situation that we have more important issues to focus on at this time. Chief Matthews, these boys need to be out of here by tomorrow morning, and you better pray that they don't decide to sue the city for your stupidity." Again with the word boy. Butch. Was. A. Man.
The door slammed, and suddenly Blossom was gone. The room was silent as Mayor Bellum stood up. "Well, Chief Matthews. I think I have heard enough. I can assure you that there will be an investigation, and I will personally be reviewing these." She picked up all the papers Blossom had left behind and made her own exit from the interrogation room. Butch started cackling wildly, and Chief Asshat was glaring down at the table.
Well, that actually was fun.
Blossom was breathing heavily as she leaned against the wall outside the police department. Her eyes scanned the skies about her warily. Perhaps Buttercup had been right and that orange streak last night had just been "a shooting star or something," an anomaly, but the familiar nervous twisting in her stomach told her otherwise. That streak had been all too familiar, and she had frozen in fear before trying to shoot after it in a blinding rage at the sight. Her sisters had had to practically drag her home.
She should be out searching in the direction it had been traveling, but no. She had to fix yet another one of Chief Matthews's messes. That man had barely been there a full three months and had already caused more trouble for her in that time than the former chief had in an entire decade of working together. She simply did not have the time for this ridiculousness.
There was a small clatter down the street from her, and she jumped into a defensive stance. A rat scurried out from a pile of trash that was sitting on the side of the road, and Blossom breathed a sigh of relief. Buttercup was right. Just an anomaly. There was nothing that she should be worrying about. She wasn't being watched. He was gone, he had left town for good, and they had seen neither hide nor tail of him since that awful night. He wouldn't dare come back here, not after what he did. He knew better. He was smarter than that.
Blossom needed to calm down. Maybe it was still early enough that the guys could come over for a little bit. They had a lot that they needed to work on before the weekend came around, after all. It would be embarrassing for them to mess up in front of that big of a crowd.
There was another slight clatter, this time from behind her. Nevermind about the guys, she was just going to go straight home and work on her school work. They already had plans to meet up after school to practice tomorrow, anyways. She shook off the feeling of being watched and stepped into the road before taking off into the air in the direction of her home. It was an uncomfortable feeling, not having her sisters with her after dark.
A sickly orange pair of eyes gleamed sadistically as they traced the path of the familiar pink streak shooting away.
"My house! My phone! My guitar!" Boomer practically left a trail of slobber across their living room as he kissed each item in it. Butch rolled his eyes at the sight. He was glad to be home, too, but nobody saw him making out with the furniture.
Brick was sprawled out across the couch, staring at his phone. They hadn't even been home a full five minutes and the lazy ass was already bored. At least the monkey hadn't shown up yet. Butch already had a raging headache from their checkout that morning - he hated reading the paperwork - and he was not in the mood to listen to that rant right now. He walked over to the small kitchen and opened the fridge. There were a bunch of bananas and a half-gallon of milk. Wonderful. Thanks for thinking about everyone else who lived there "dad."
There was a massive crash from down the hallway. It seemed Boomer had quite literally launched himself into his bed in his room. What a doof.
He took his own phone out of his pocket and slid his thumb lovingly over the smooth screen before pressing the button to unlock it. There hadn't been any messages waiting for him when he got home, nobody asking where he was. Brick had had a few messages from girls that he had dates lined up with before he was thrown in prison, and Boomer - the social "butterfly" of the family - had so many messages waiting for him that the phone had frozen for a solid two minutes before he could access them. But Butch - well, he didn't need anybody anyways. He preferred to be alone. The lone wolf badass of the Rowdyruffs.
A squeal wormed its way from Boomer's bedroom, and Butch's already pounding headache roared in response to it. His brother rushed into the room and shoved a far-too-bright phone screen in his face. "THEY'RE PLAYING AT THE PARK TOMORROW!"
Butch shoved the phone away from himself and stepped back away from Boomer. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You know that local band that's really fuckin' fantastic and that I really like and that I've been following for the past year?"
"Ah, hell, will you just shut up about them," Butch groaned. "They're not even good. That guitar girl is the only thing they've got goin' for 'em."
"He's right, Boom, they only have one decent member," Brick mumbled from his spot on the couch. Wow, Mr. Leader usually hated agreeing with him, but Butch guessed he was as annoyed with the blond's issues as he was. Boomer had been way too obsessed with this band, and they weren't even good.
"And that's all that they need! She's perfect." Boomer flopped onto the couch next to a grumpy Brick, who scowled and scooted away from the now day-dreaming blond.
"Bitch don't even have a face," the rehead mumbled.
"She does too! She just wears hoodies so nobody knows who it is. She's so...mysterious." There was a sappy look on Boomer's face. Ugh, it was worse than the sad puppy eyes they had been enduring from the blond for the past few weeks.
"Could be a dude," Butch told him as he grabbed a banana from the fridge and moved to sit in the chair facing the couch. It was better than nothing, he guessed.
Boomer looked angrily at his two brothers. "She is not! Have you ever even heard her sing?"
"Not really. Can't really hear anything over the rat-boy's screeching," Brick commented while Butch took a bite of the banana. Ew, it wasn't even ripe. Disgusting.
"His name is Mitch, and that's his hook, ya know? But her...just...wow."
"Like I said. Could be a dude."
Boomer glared at him. "It. Is. Not. A. Dude. She's very much a girl...No. Actually, she's not. She's a woman. An angel."
"What's your deal with this chick, anyways," Brick asked. He sounded annoyed and was rubbing at his eyes. Aw, did poor Bricky-boy need a nap?
"She just...speaks to my soul, man." Boomer slouched further back onto the couch with a sigh. Brick rolled his eyes at the sight.
Butch rolled his head in Brick's direction. "Can I punch him now?"
"No, he'll get over it. A nice pair of legs and a decent guitar riff won't hold his attention for too long. He'll have another 'angel' by next week, I guarantee it."
"I will not," the blond protested. "She's my soulmate!"
Both Brick and Butch snorted at that response.
"Sure man. Listen, just bang the chick and move on. If I gotta get dragged to one more concert..." Butch trailed off.
"Brick met his last three girlfriends at those concerts!"
Brick chuckled. "Heh heh, yeah, guess I did. You say there's another one tomorrow?"
What a couple of idiots. Butch stood and stretched. "Well, y'all have fun with your soulmates or whatever. Imma get some sleep."
"No, Butch, you have to come with us! You might even meet somebody!" Ugh. That sounded so...optimistic. What was his brother's deal with trying to hook him up with random chicks? Butch had already told him a hundred times before - he was a lone wolf. He didn't need anybody for anything.
A pair of pleading, sapphire-blue eyes bore into him from the couch. Nope. He wasn't gonna look at them. Boomer wasn't going to rope him in this time.
But the eyes looked so damn...sad. Dammit. "Fine, but I'm not stayin' the whole time."
Ugh, now the eyes were happy. "You won't regret it, bro. I promise."
Blossom adjusted a tuning knob slightly. She had gotten out of school almost an hour ago but was only just now able to make it to Mike's basement for practice. Buttercup was lounging on the old, worn-out couch that occupied what little space wasn't being taken up by the band's equipment. Mitch was replacing a cord on his bass and complaining to Buttercup about something that had happened during the school day - Blossom wasn't following the conversation very closely and had only caught "shoelaces" and "vomit", and to be quite honest she didn't really want to listen after that.
The Floyjoydson twins were sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch near Buttercup. Wes hopped down the stairs, his white-blond hair flopping into his eyes. Mike struck a single chord to test his guitar's tuning and moved to the center of the room to talk to the band. "So, guys, we have a gig tomorrow night at the park-"
"Gig implies y'all are getting paid," Buttercup shouted from the couch. The Floyjoydson twins laughed loudly at the comment, and Mitch shot them a look.
"Well, anyways" Mike continued, "it's going to be the biggest crowd we've ever played for...hopefully." He chuckled nervously and plucked a guitar string. "Well, we know that there are at least going to be three people there." He shot a look at Buttercup and the twins.
"Four, if that Jojo kid shows up," Mitch said, sending Blossom a wicked smirk. Buttercup snorted from her place on the couch.
"Oh man, I almost forgot about your biggest fan. Is that why you busted 'em out of jail, Bloss?"
Blossom rolled her eyes. "I didn't 'bust them out.' I'm not going to let anyone go to jail unjustly if I can help it."
"You sure you just didn't want to see your boyfriend, Blossy," Wes asked as he sat at the drums. "You gonna take the hood off for him this time? Show him that pretty face?"
"He's not...Whatever, guys. Let's just practice, okay?" Blossom looked down at her own instrument, trying to make the redness that suddenly filled her face leave.
"Yes, ma'am," Mike agreed as he began to fumble around on his own guitar, waiting for the others to take their places to play. Buttercup was still chuckling and muttering to the twins on the couch. "Ready? One, Two, Three, Four..."
I'm not sure if anyone is even going to pay attention to this story, but I'm giving it a go anyways. I've been having a rough few months and am trying to get back into a regular schedule. Part of that is going to be writing more consistently as a stress reliever, so I've given myself a Nanowrimo-esque challenge for the next few weeks. Hopefully, I won't get on anybody's nerves. I'm going to try to update my other stories as well before the next chapter of this one comes out, so it may be a couple of weeks (unless I get too caught up in this story and forget everything else, which I do sometimes)
I do intend for this to be a rather long story. I have a lot of ideas for it, at least. I want to say a sincere thank you to anyone who read all the way to the end of the first chapter and gave it a chance. I really do appreciate it. I would super love a beta reader for this since I'm always super nervous about putting new chapters up, but I'm not sure how to go about that, so if anybody knows please tell me!
Just a fair warning, the rating may be subject to change in later chapters. I haven't decided completely which direction to take this story, but some directions are a little more "grownup" than others.
See y'all soon!
-ICantThinkofanOriginalName-