Hey, guys!
Got another chapter for ya, so as to not leave our story on a total cliffhanger haha. I know how much readers hate that XD
That being said, there's going to be a lot of feels in this chapter so just brace yourself for that temporarily. I promise later chapters will be a little more light hearted...until the angst returns XD
Please leave a review if you like the story or would like to provide constructive feedback! It is much appreciated!
Act 1 Part 12- Pandemic
Weird shapes. Funny faces. A random assortment of jumbled nonsense, voices, and everything unknown to man. All of it more terrifying than the last.
'Come out, boys'
Brick tried to mentally shield himself from the perils of this completely screwball dimension, more than a bit disturbed at how Him managed to twist and warp it to his wishes. It didn't matter as much as getting the hell out...literally.
He once believed this place to be hell. But whatever Him claimed to be or the location of his residence, pissed off demons never made for happy times.
'Come out and play'
A dragon with inverted fangs roared from behind, a polka dotted panther purred with a ball of yarn that threatened to tie them up, laughing cacti attempted to smash them like railroad spikes into the ground. Each successive level grew steadily more insane, a tortuous nightmare designed to confuse and pummel them into submission.
"Keep up, boneheads!"
Butch and Boomer were just a step behind. Even though they could fly, somehow time operated differently in the domain of Him. Up was down, down was up, east became west, gravity a mere concept, and the Cleveland Browns had just won the Super Bowl- nothing made sense. The Rowdyruffs prided themselves on an impenetrable masculine wall of toughness, compromising to no man alive.
Demons didn't count among the living…
Fear. He could see it in forest green and electric blue eyes. His brothers, strong they may be, wanted no part in whatever punishment was held in store. They failed. The Powerpuff Girls had outsmarted them yet again and to add insult to injury, been thoroughly humiliated in the process.
A carnival wheel of deadly spikes ran through their line of path, causing them to veer off in another random direction. Eel like snakes slithered and hissed, reaching out to bite and slash with deadly intent. Evading and dodging best they could, black coils suddenly burst forth from the ground and ensnared the boys in a tight hold.
"Brick!" Boomer cried, struggling to breath.
"ACK!"
Butch thrashed and attempted to use brute strength to break the vice grip which only made it worse.
"Stop moving, idiots!"
Brick felt the sensation of fire burning at his fingertips and was seconds away from using it to free them until an untimely distraction appeared. With an audible *pop and a haze of confetti, a white skinned, sallow faced jester made its presence known.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Rowdyruff Boys...and 'rough' is pretty accurate. Wouldn't you say ladies and gentlemen?"
The jester, dressed in a comically large, jingle bell hat complete with a multicolored jumpsuit and pointy shoes gestured towards an audience hovering way up in the red colored sky, all of whom began laughing obnoxiously. But that wasn't the biggest problem. Butch hated clowns and his fear of them superseded almost any other rational thought. Hence he began shaking and struggling even more.
"No! NO! Don't get any closer!"
"Oh, look he's shy," the Jester grinned evilly, noticing the green Ruff's innate fear. "Let's give him some encouragement folks."
He summoned a pie out of nowhere and smashed it straight into Butch's face. Fury rocketed through Brick's veins as those stupid, piano shaped teeth moved up and down, creating a horrible, high pitched, chilling laugh.
"Get away from him!"
The Jester's head slowly swiveled in a grotesque three hundred and sixty degree turn, giving Brick the same creepy leer.
"And here we have Brick the Bludgeoner, everyone! The self proclaimed leader of our boys and a temper so fiery you could rrrrrrroast an egg on that little forehead!"
"I'll give you til the count of three to let my brothers and I go," Brick stated as menacingly as he could. But the demonic Jester only seemed fueled by those threats, treating them as another joke in a twisted routine.
"Awww, how adorable. This little puppy's got some bite! Have a biscuit, boy!"
Unadulterated rage surged again at the indignation. The Jester pinched his cheeks and attempted to stuff down some kind of brown, circular cracker which Brick refused. But the angrier he became, the less seriously the demonic clown took him.
"I think I know what the 'Ruff' stands for in Rowdyruff," he announced to the floating crowd, which began laughing condescendingly. "Dogs are soooo difficult to train these days."
"Shut up!"
"But then again can you really show old mutts new tricks as the saying goes? Especially when they've been so thoroughly humbled by the female breed."
"SHUT UP!" Brick roared and shot a powerful beam of heat vision at the Jester, blasting him backwards into a smoking heap. Fire blasts incinerated the cold, black restraints while he did the same for Butch and Boomer, both of whom were quivering balls.
"C-Clowns…"
"Shut up, Butch. The clown's gone. We gotta get moving."
"S-Send in the c-clowns….c-creepy…."
His twitching had gone to unprecedented levels. Meanwhile, Boomer looked as though he might start openly weeping.
"Brick…" he said in a small voice, tears welling up in those baby blues.
"Don't start crying. I told you that stuff is for sissies."
He tried to lift Boomer back up and knock some sense back into him but the blond continued to point and stutter.
"B-Brick, he's behind you."
"What?"
The redhead turned to see the Jester leaping back up feet first in a cartoonish defiance of physics. Only this time instead of a chalk white, joker face, a red one replaced it. Soon the colorful uniform took on various shades of blood red. A goatee grew out, ears became pointed while pink tulle outlined the hem of a woman's sport jacket. Black high heeled boots crawled all the way to the upper thigh and gloved hands burst forth to reveal sharp, deadly, lobster like claws.
"You could do with a sense of humor, my boy."
Him walked forward, the audible clicking of his heels growing more ominous with each step. That same cheshire grin stretched wider and wider, the only one Brick truly feared.
"I don't do jokes."
"Oh but that's where the humor lies, Brick. You are the joke."
The redhead's throat went dry, knowing full well what Him implied with that little jab.
"Hey we beat those dumb girls fair and square, chucklehead!" he said defiantly. "Not our fault they cheated."
"SILENCE!"
Him's feminine falsetto deepened into its intimidating baritone growl and he raised himself several feet in the air.
"You did nothing!" the demon hissed. "The Powerpuff Girls merely used every means at hand to reduce you and your brothers to a simpering pile of tears. Which is why you're in here and not out there."
"They can't take us in a real fight! They just got lucky!"
Brick tried to maintain an air of strength but it melted rapidly in the face of a being that could undo their very existence with a swipe of its claw. However, he could tell that Him had something far more sinister in mind.
"Yessss. I'm sure that's what you told yourselves the first time the girls caused your demise. Before I stepped in and revived you."
"I didn't ask to be revived. Certainly not from a stupid, sissy lobster like you!"
He was really pushing it now. Sweat dripped down from long orange locks as Him's glowing green eyes practically gazed into his very soul. Whether by bravery or sheer stupidity he felt determined not to lose face. Not this time.
"A trivial matter, Brick. Like it or not you belong to me. And as such, you will do my bidding or face the consequences. The Powerpuff Girls must be removed as a threat to our plans."
"You mean your plans," Brick sneered. "And I don't give two-"
His insolence was met with a thoud *THWACK as Him's patience came to an end. A mighty claw hammered him into the ground like a nail into a board. Stars spun in and out of his vision and Boomer began to panic.
"Brick! Brick! Come on! Get up!" he cried, shaking him rapidly.
"Oh, I'm afraid he's down for the count, dear child. Every boy needs a bit of discipline if expectations aren't met."
"We're sorry! Please! We'll do better next time!"
Him's lanky figure became ever more towering and darkened to terrifying proportions.
"CEASE YOUR PATHETIC SNIFFLING! IT'S TIME YOU BOYS LEARNED WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAIL!"
Brick finally came to his proper senses and an electrical jolt from Boomer told him they were in deep trouble. The blond was begging him to do something, Butch lay on the ground as little more than a paralyzed mess and Him prepared to initiate a punishment inexplicably awful.
Without so much as thinking, the redhead sprang into action. He'd had enough. They weren't going to live the rest of their lives attached at the hip to this transvestic, demonic piece of garbage. The Rowdyruff Boys were beholden to no one. Not to the Powerpuffs, Him, or Hell itself.
Laughing maniacally, Him's arrogance caused a temporary lapse in memory- the boys still carried superpowers. His claw missed grabbing them by inches as Brick zipped around, each of his brothers clutched in one hand.
"Filthy little brats! Get back here!"
Brick flew as fast as he could, the direction completely irrelevant just as long as Him remained in the distance.
"I own you! I own your souls! They belong to me!"
Soul or no soul, he wanted out in the biggest way. Scanning around for any sign of an exit, gigantic, terrifying steps could be heard booming in the background as Him's heels smashed into the dirt.
There must be some kind of opening...anything…
As if on cue, a rectangular shaped beam of light shone like a homing beacon just as Brick began to lose hope.
"Come on, lame-os. Stay with me," he told his brothers.
The laughter became louder, the sound of piercing, shrieking guffaws echoing like a crash symbol in his ears. A dizzying array of monsters, freaks, and lesser demons taunted and sneered but Brick blocked it out. Weaving up and down, he squeezed through the smallest crevices in between those crab like claws, which snipped and snapped relentlessly.
"I'VE GOT YOU!"
Him took one last swipe but Brick anticipated the attempted capture and used a hidden ability: fire rocket. Going into high gear, flames jettisoned from both feet and propelled him forward just enough to avoid the awaiting jaws of the steel trap.
With single iron willed determination, Brick kicked in the afterburners and sailed away towards freedom.
"Sayonara, sucker!"
The light grew closer and closer. In fact it was almost blinding but not before parting words.
"Enjoy your meager escape, Brick. Because this isn't the end. I am always watching. You have no idea what you've unleashed by disobeying me. Running away won't stop the inevitable…"
The light flashed and the Rowdyruffs crossed the threshold to the mortal world…
Brick awoke with a startled jolt, completely disoriented.
What the fuck?
Panting heavily, he took a glance around as precious reality settled in as a reassurance that what he'd just experienced was only a dream….rather a memory, permanently in the past.
Bright lights, white ceilings, steel walls. No demons or weird, misshapen fiends laughing or seeking to restrain them. He sat on a comfortable bed of buttery softness. Multiple IVs were attached to the right arm connected to a tube of clear fluid. Beside him were Butch and Boomer, both similarly situated but unconscious for the moment.
At the very least, they weren't fighting off a giant, crossdressing lobster.
You have no idea what you've unleashed by disobeying me
The haunting words came back five years to the day Brick single handedly led the Rowdyruff Boys away from Him in the den of his own lair. He didn't like to think about it all that much. Their so-called 'second father' scared the living shit out of them and getting away from the monster remained an unspoken trauma none of the Ruffs desired to speak of. In fact, he was almost sure Boomer had repressed it entirely. Aside from the occasional nightmare.
In and out. Breathe and exhale. He'd never admit it but there were some things in this world that frightened even Brick the Bludgeoner.
A second sensation became rapidly apparent as aches and pains shot through every fiber and nerve in the body.
"Goddamn it, why does everything hurt?"
"Because you are under the weather...no pun intended."
That voice. He hadn't heard it in a long time and Brick chastised himself for not recognizing the respective home of their original creator.
"Mojo."
A green skinned simian came into view, familiar blue jumpsuit, cape, and encapsulating head cylinder still the standard markings of the genius chimp's identity. Other than a few white whiskers on the chin and some previously unknown wrinkles, Mojo Jojo's physical appearance stood the test of time, largely intact from their inception.
"Yes, it is I. Mojo Jojo. Doer of dastardly deeds, number one menace to Townsville, and creator of the children known as the 'Rowdyruff Boys'. This is undeniable fact, for I am-"
"Oh for the love of Christ enough with the spiel. Why are we here?"
Mojo crossed his arms in disapproval.
"That is the thanks I get for unselfishly saving your hides?"
The final flood of memory came back to Brick as he remembered everything in a hot flash- desperately trying to find adequate shelter, their run in with the Powerpuff Girls, and nearly freezing to death after refusing their assistance.
"Holy shit-"
"Do not use four letter words in front of me, young man-"
"-I...we got...sick," Brick said in a low voice not quite willing to admit they were on the brink of perishing.
"Yes, and it is extremely fortunate that I found you when I did," Mojo explained, walking over and checking on his vitals. "Hmmm...everything seems normal."
"They're going to be...ya know...okay?"
Mojo must have detected the anxiety in his voice as he sought to put Brick at ease.
"According to my calculations, and my calculations are never incorrect, therefore they are always right, Butch and Boomer are in stable condition."
"Great."
It was the only thing the redhead wanted to know. Otherwise this place held no real use. He'd left it behind a long time ago without any sentiment or attachment. Why Mojo went out of the way to snatch them from the clutches of Jack Frost didn't matter all that much. Seeking to find his clothes (wearing a medical gown felt extremely disconcerting) he rose from the bed.
"And just where do you think you're going?"
"Dunno. Somewhere that isn't here."
Unfortunately, his body didn't allow for much movement. Vertigo overtook all other senses and limbs began aching tenfold.
"Ow...my friggin head."
Mojo eased him back to the bed and Brick felt too weak to fight it despite being one hundred times stronger.
"You are in no position to go anywhere."
"I need to use the bathroom."
"Already taken care of."
He gestured towards a built in toilet on the side of the bed which allowed for easy movement and a curtain hung about for privacy. Brick snorted at the irony.
"That's rich coming from a poo throwing monkey."
Tongue in cheek remarks had little effect on the circumstances. Nourishing water was poured down his throat while a damp rag cooled the slight fever still raging inside the body.
"First of all, the proper term is chimpanzee. Second, I do not throw feces. That is disgusting and unbecoming of my genius and proper manners, which is to say it is unsanitary, toxic, appalling…"
Brick rolled his eyes. Mojo's tendency to repeat himself wore thin rather quickly.
"...and third, you do not realize the precarious situation you are in...of the world."
"Huh? The hell are you talking about?"
Mojo whipped out a remote and pressed one of the gray buttons and a large TV emerged from the ceiling.
Seriously, how many gadgets does this guy have?
The screen turned on and a diagram of three odd looking cell-like organisms came into view.
"It is quite simple really. You were suffering from the Amoeba Virus, an illness originating from the third rate villains known as the Amoeba Boys. It wreaked havoc on Townsville a mere five years ago, causing widespread chills, aches, fevers, and general misery among the populace. Even the Powerpuff Girls ended up with moderate cases. Luckily, a cure was found quickly."
The screen faded out into the next slide which showed the anatomy of the Rowdyruff Boys.
"Since the virus originated before I created you, it is safe to conclude that you and your brothers had no natural immunity. As a result of this, it attacked the immune system more aggressively than otherwise normal."
So Blossom hadn't been lying. Great. But he still didn't understand one thing.
"I thought Chemical X makes a person invulnerable from disease."
"Normally, it does. The Amoeba Virus is an exception to that rule given its source. It is a novel illness in which only a small number of people have been exposed to. With you and your brothers, it found a new host, one capable of aiding in its renewed replication."
"Replication?"
The screen zeroed in on the microscopic shape of the virus itself, blueish green and with odd spikes that looked strangely like bowler hats.
"Yes. Since none of you were vaccinated against it, a new strain was formed creating the current crisis."
Brick frowned. Nothing about that made sense. Why would he and his brothers getting sick cause the town to go crazy? They were despised. If anything it should have ignited celebration.
"What crisis?" Another sinking feeling filled the churning pit of Brick's stomach as he suddenly felt nauseous. "How...how long were we out for?"
Mojo clicked the remote again, this time it switched over to a newswoman wearing a gas mask almost equivalent of something out of World War 1. Nevertheless, she could be heard through it.
"Our top story is the same: the dreaded Amoeba Virus continues to spread throughout the West Coast at an alarming rate. Whereas at first it was confined to California, it is now reported that Washington, Oregon, Arizona, and Nevada have rapidly spreading surges of their own. The United States government and CDC continue to work tirelessly as the country holds its collective breath for more information. Thousands are hospitalized and many top virologists and experts say the first thirty days are crucial in limiting something so contagious…"
"Thirty days?" Brick asked weakly. "But that means-"
"Yes," Mojo interrupted. "It is currently the month of March. You have been unconscious for about four weeks or so, give or take. It took me around half that time to stabilize your condition while also analyzing the virus for myself. This allowed me to isolate the protein which enables it to bind to your Chemical X laden cells, a slow but effective process. Even so, you are still recovering and entirely too weak to go anywhere."
That logic appeared acceptable even if not all of it registered at once. But that didn't mean he wanted any more help from Mojo than necessary.
"Fine. But as soon as we're well enough, Butch, Boomer, and I are out of here. And if you're lucky we won't trash it."
Again Mojo shook his head.
"That would be a monumentally bad idea. Entirely stupid, foolhardy, short sighted, idiotic, and that which only morons would embrace."
Brick would have blasted him with fire had his powers been fully charged. What fun too. He lamented not having the ability to do so. A monkey who talked that much deserved a shot to the back of the head.
"I'll bite... why's that?" he said, temper slowly building like a familiar forthcoming eruption.
Mojo went over and pressed a random button on his control panel, which switched the vantage point of the screen to a security recording of downtown Townsville. Multiple checkpoints had been set up, complete with barriers and barbed wire. People wearing hazmat suits carrying medical supplies scurried about. US Army Soldiers and National Guardsman patrolled the streets, all wearing gas masks. Ambulances wailed back and forth while the police stood awkwardly, reduced to a purely civilian role in aiding the sick instead of catching robbers.
Mojo's next statement sounded more like an 'I told you so'.
"Welcome to the Pandemic...my son."
Being one of the smartest men in the country was not a title Robert Utonium felt gave him any real distinction. Education and intelligence did not equate to basic common sense or empathy. Having been the roommate and (reluctant) colleague of Dick Hardly, he could spot the difference a mile away by now.
But how could one prepare for the moment when the fate of the world rested on your shoulders?
The night his beloved daughters came home from a routine patrol, nothing seemed amiss. They'd had another run in with the Rowdyruff Boys. Not welcome, but not entirely unexpected either. Those boys had no real home of their own and Blossom told him of their desire to rob the Home Depot for the purpose of shelter.
Imagine his shock when he woke up the next day to discover the girls were sick. An ominous development in itself if only for the reason they were supposed to be immune from any serious affliction. Only one had ever affected them severely. It didn't take long to figure out the source. A mutation stemming from a mutation: the Amoeba Boys. The dreaded virus was back in full force and deadlier than ever.
The Professor could scarcely remember a time he'd been so terrified. Not even when a supersized Mojo Jojo held them in the grip of his hairy palm on top of City Hall. Physically they were almost invincible. But pathological bombs from mother nature spared no one. Not even those with superpowers. It had been touch and go for about three days with the girls laying together in bed running high fevers, chills, and literally sweating inside of a blanket.
Tears welled up in the man's eyes as he recalled the possibility of losing the greatest treasure the world had ever given him. Science, accolades, all the talent of a spontaneous inventor- none of it mattered compared to the daughters whom he loved and cared about more than anything, including himself.
Mountains of monotonous data poured past on a super powered computer zipped past becoming a mindless blur. He was exhausted. The better part of the past month had been spent like this: pouring over the necessary numbers, mapping out the new strain of the virus, and trickiest of all- reverse engineering the substance that caused the outbreak in the first place.
He stood from the chair and stretched while rubbing the whisker on his chin. A shave was in order. In fact, the last time he'd sported a genuine beard predated the girls. But circumstances changed. And so did the need for a drink.
A half empty bottle of Woodford Reserve sat in the middle of one the tables. Pouring another glass, Robert Utonium drained it in one gulp, willing himself to continue. Alcohol contributed to a great number of health problems for many people, but being young (relatively) he could handle it. Liquid courage. Liquid contradiction.
Time to resume work. He settled himself in the black office chair and summoned his third wind.
Of course no substance on earth baffled him more than Chemical X. A radically new and unpredictable element, three places in the world had the capability of manufacturing it. The only reason he'd been able to access the stuff was a government grant given years ago as a result of an award winning paper written fresh out of graduate school, recognized by the National Academy of Sciences. The Professor wanted to discover its enhancement properties which could be utilized for a number of different things- reverse aging, healing damaged tissue, restoring eyesight...curing disease.
How ironic that it should cause one.
Though the tests weren't conclusive just yet, one thing stood out. Chemical X was a binding agent and had latched onto a highly contagious, potent virus which in itself originated from living bacteria. In turn, this made the new strain equally as unpredictable. His daughters became ill but later recovered after two or three days of heavy symptoms. Since the girls caught the virus as five year olds, he figured they retained some natural immunity but it proved to be the reverse.
Only the Chemical X in their systems prevented a more severe outcome. For the rest of the billions on planet earth, it was like playing Russian roulette. Some managed to break the fever, others received no symptoms at all, and worse yet a rising number of people were falling into comas and a significant chunk did not wake back up again. Since Townsville had been exposed to a prior strain, the town's health care system strained but managed to hold its own. The key now was to limit the spread as much as possible.
The Army and National Guard had been called in for that very purpose and to give aid to people in need. Businesses were shut down except for the essential. Shipping from the ports slowed to a near standstill. Testing became mandatory for every person seeking to come in or out of the city. But the efforts went for naught. Los Angeles, San Francisco, Bakersfield, Oakland, Long Beach, Fresno, and San Diego all reported rapidly spreading cases of the virus. According to his own estimates of colleagues around the world, if control wasn't established in about three months the entire world faced countless hospitalizations and deaths.
So to say he felt an enormous amount of pressure understated the issue a hundredfold. While fellow professors, scientists, biologists, and virologists all joined together and provided critical logistical support, Robert felt a high degree of pressure to deliver on a cure or something that could minimize the effects of the Amoeba virus. This pathogen originated from Townsville in his city. Everyone knew whose feet the blame would be laid at.
The sound of a phone ringing broke him out of his rhythm. Caller ID showed a random number but the Professor already guessed who it was.
He picked up the receiver without hesitation.
"Hello Director Grundler."
"Professor Utonium. How is your progress?"
The woman was very direct and somewhat humorless. But anyone in her shoes would be. Being head of the CDC overseeing the deadliest pandemic in one hundred years left Julia Grundler with little time for chit chat.
"It's steady progress, Director."
"Define steady."
Einstein's mustache, she really didn't beat around the bush.
"Mapping the genetic sequence of the virus isn't the problem. It's that the mutation from its original strain has caused it to essentially morph into something far more unpredictable and deadly. Any prior immunity from before isn't as effective."
"That's not the main problem, Professor. The original strain of the Amoeba Virus only circulated within Townsville. Unfortunately, the rest of our population has not received the same exposure, leaving billions completely vulnerable."
"I was able to contain the original virus by capturing the Amoeba Boys and synthesizing a vaccine from their DNA, which I have to point out no longer exists due to government interference."
It was a not so subtle shot at the institution he paid taxes to among other things. The bacterial villains were apprehended years ago by the United States military for experimentation after finding out their unique and potentially dangerous capability to possibly spread new contagions. The Professor offered his own expertise in dealing with the mucus-like miscreants and what information could be extracted (ethically, of course). To his dismay, the advice went unheeded and Amoeba Boys' already short lifespan expired at the hands of bureaucratic incompetence.
"What's done is done, Utonium," Grundler cut in sharply. "What matters now is your research on Chemical X and how we can use it to stop this virus in its tracks before it blazes a trail across the world. Do you have an understanding of how it spreads?"
Yes, he did but his patience for this little pow wow wore increasingly thin.
"Water droplets through the air, like most respiratory viruses," he explained. "In itself, that is the most dangerous aspect. Chemical X is a binding agent and should seldom be used on humans even in controlled environments. This virus seems to have co-opted the binding protein in an effort to spread as fast as it can."
"I'll update our guidelines accordingly then," Grundler affirmed. At least she took what he said seriously even if he found her demanding and stiff. "And undertake an informational campaign with the President's blessing...do you have an estimate of the potential death toll?"
It was a somewhat rhetorical exercise. The CDC had their own experts that went through these kinds of projections every day but given the novelty of the virus, they were getting estimates from pretty much everywhere.
"It's hard to say. Professor Wiggins, Lambeau, Hiyato, El-Massri, and I are all forecasting different models. But left unchecked, the Amoeba Virus could kill as many people as the Spanish Flu of 1918."
"Then I need not stress how crucial it is that you develop a remedy for this as quickly and efficiently as possible. The clock is ticking Utonium."
"I am well aware. I spend every waking minute of my time in this effort. My daughters are constantly transporting people to and fro from the hospitals across California. They provide every bit of assistance possible."
"See that they continue to do so."
The Professor resisted the urge to give this bureaucrat a piece of his mind but refrained. A loss of temper did nothing to solve the problem at hand.
"Of course. But my girls are also ten years old and need respite."
He could practically envision the harsh, oozing dismissal dripping for her lips.
"The Powerpuff Girls are superheroes with otherworldly powers, Professor. Powers that must be utilized."
"They are also children. Children with psychological limits. Normal human beings."
Grundler grunted in an avoidance of continuing the debate or perhaps she had another call and so did not argue further. But there was no mistaking her respective opinion on the matter in her parting words.
"Professor Utonium, your daughters may be 'human' in name, but they are far from normal. Good day."
A click and the line went dead. The conversation proved to be a cruel reminder that the United States Government's simultaneous fear and interest in the Powerpuff Girls created an ever present thorn in his side. They were seen as weapons; to be used in the national interest at best, as enemies to be destroyed at worst should they go rogue or prove disloyal.
No one would ever treat his girls as pawns in a cutthroat world of politics and intrigue. It's why even in the midst of a serious plague, Robert Utonium chose not to divulge everything he knew to the CDC, the White House, state authorities or anyone else. Including the most sensitive information of all: that the Rowdyruff Boys inadvertently caused the virus.
Those boys were the key to ending this before it began. If he could somehow find them. If they were still alive.
The Professor shook his head and forced himself back into the daily grind. It did no good to dwell on that. He switched on the radio to see if any soothing Jazz music might be on.
"In non virus related news, authorities are still on the lookout for Mojo Jojo, who escaped three months ago from a secure halfway house. The infamous simian supervillain was half a year away from completing a four year prison term in a Federal supermax. A potential fifty year sentence was reduced after famed defense lawyer Joseph H. Cockrell successfully convinced a jury to acquit Jojo on attempted murder, but was found guilty on lesser charges of illegal weapons posession and destruction of property. Judge Samuel Nullenburger gave a reduced sentence upon Jojo's agreement that he would enter a supervillain rehabilitation program. Nullenberger, a Federal judge in the Eastern District of Wisconsin, has a long history of skepticism regarding the jurisdiction of superheroes-"
Disgusted and unable to listen any longer, he switched the channel to the preferred cool jazz. Yet another problem that could be attributed all the way back to him.
Mojo escaping was a problem but one that couldn't be helped. The green monkey desired to rule the world, not destroy it. A planet consumed by disease put a damper on those plans. He decided against taking any steps for the moment. The volcanic lair remained silent and empty. Best not to bother the girls, as they had so much on their plate already.
Rumbling issued from the stomach. He vaguely recalled eating about twenty four hours ago but lately began forgetting the necessities of having an appetite. Maybe a sandwich or two.
Just another hour. Then you can eat. This has to be finished
And so onward went the never ceasing mind of Professor Robert Utonium. The weight of the world so delicately balanced on his shoulders.
In less than twenty four hours Butch and Boomer also awoke. Similar to Brick, both were still suffering from after effects of the virus but otherwise appeared to be in good spirits. Mojo ensured no further complications impeded their recovery and provided them with bowls of chicken noodle soup.
"This stuff is pretty good," Boomer remarked brightly.
Butch, ever a fast eater, gobbled it down in a matter of minutes and finished with a loud belch.
"More! More!"
"Pipe down you spazz," Brick admonished. "Try to at least taste what you're consuming before swallowing."
"Dude, I haven't eaten in like...a bajillion years."
"Try twenty eight days, moron," Brick corrected. "In any case, we still need to build up our strength."
He inhaled and took another steaming spoonful of the soup. It really was quite good. Using the ability of temperature regulation, he adjusted the warmth to his liking. A positive sign. His powers were returning.
"And then what?" Boomer asked. "What are we gonna do after that?"
Truthfully, Brick hadn't thought that far ahead yet. Given the circumstances, it left their options somewhat limited yet open ended. The entire country was freaking out over the virus. Theoretically, they could do what they wanted. No one would stop them.
Theoretically, anyway.
"I'm not sure," he said honestly. This remark surprised his brothers, so accustomed to their leader being quick and decisive. Butch frowned as he looked at Brick intently.
"So what? We're going to stay with the stinky monkey now? I thought we agreed he was dead weight."
They had. Five summers ago in a rare moment of collective unity, the brothers agreed both Mojo and Him were equally idiotic as parents and not worth the time or effort. Of course, one stemmed from fear and the other from pure annoyance. But the principle remained the same: they could take care of themselves.
But after this latest skirmish in which they almost perished in a freak ice storm, Brick had to reconsider their position. Living out on the streets sucked. No amount of pride or rationalization could get around that fact. Even with the powers of gods, every day turned into a struggle for survival, constantly looking over their shoulders in case the Powerpuffs showed up and tried to throw them in the slammer.
Brick made a promise to his brothers that he'd never let anything happen to them and came perilously close to breaking that promise. It was the only purpose he felt defined him at the tender age of ten.
And yet he wanted more. So much more. They all deserved better.
"Listen, I know what we said back then," he finally said after a long pause. "But I am not going to allow a repeat of what just happened to us. I think we should put it to a vote. Rowdy's honor."
Butch and Boomer's eyes widened. Brick allowed them a say in group decisions only twice before. This would mark the third. And 'Rowdy's honor' was the highest level of trust a Rowdyruff Boy could give.
Truthfully, the redhead felt extremely apprehensive at the prospect of staying with Mojo Jojo again. He didn't feel sold on the idea and could tell his brothers weren't either. But before anyone could openly voice doubt, said simian entered through the door.
"I am pleased to see you are enjoying the soup."
When no one responded, Mojo merely gave a piff of annoyance and took a look at their respective charts.
"Hmmm, everything seems to be normal. I'd say within three to four days, you'll be back at full strength."
"Appreciate the hospitality," Brick said a bit tersely.
"And I hope you realize the opportunity that stands before you."
There it was. The real reason Mojo saved them and the beginning of a long winded pitch in order to convince them to stay. The Rowdyruffs might have laughed in his face under a different scenario.
"What would that be?"
Brick sought to test the genius chimp in every way possible. He wasn't going to submit to the wishes of someone for nothing. Mojo's ambitions outweighed everyone and everything else in which case they'd fly out the door right now.
"A family reunion."
That answer certainly caught them by surprise.
"Yes, a family reunion," Mojo repeated. "Five years ago, it was I who created you in a prison using snips, snails, and a puppy dog's tail-
"-And toilet water-" Butch muttered underneath his breath.
"-giving birth to the Rowdyruff Boys. By extension this makes me your father, which by further extension makes me your legal guardian, ensuring that I, Mojo Jojo, have the authority to dole out proper authority and decisions on your behalf."
"We ain't no babies," Boomer replied indignantly.
"No, far from it," Mojo agreed, again to everyone's surprise. "You are strong, capable, and created from pure evil. Within you are powers endowed to few others and the resolve necessary to take over the world! And yet, you are also ten years old, blind, naive, raw, young, wet behind the ears, thereby lacking in any experience whatsoever. As your father, it is my responsibility to look after the general welfare of my sons."
Brick felt annoyance turn to loathing. This chimp had little idea what they'd been through and carried no more authority to tell them what to do than the rock he kicked down the street.
"Father in name only," he spat. "We left you for a reason."
"My preparedness as a parent was insufficient," Mojo admitted in a rare instance of humility. "However, that is not the case now. As I said, an opportunity now stands before us. Civilization struggles to contain a deadly pathogen. I have escaped from the clutches of the United States government. Together, with our combined abilities, we can harness them to take over the world!"
He looked at them all intensely, the manic gleam in the monkey's eye glowing brighter and brighter.
"The nations of this planet are weakened. The Powerpuff Girls are distracted and stretched too thin to engage in their normal crime fighting. Think of it, my children: everything is ours for the taking."
Brick heard a lot of 'we' and 'our' but his skepticism failed to be dislodged. As if to symbolize such skepticism, Boomer blew a raspberry while Butch uttered a loud 'lame'.
"Listen 'dad'," Brick said in quotation marks to mock the term. "You've been talking about the same world domination bullshit for years. But the truth is, we stopped caring a long time ago. All those speeches got boring. It's why the three of us struck out on our own."
"And what have you done all this time since then? Have you achieved that which is considered worthwhile?"
The monkey was really giving him a tough debate today, he'd give Mojo that much. But it didn't change one thing: that his grand ambition was the same. For Mojo Jojo, taking over the world took priority over anything else, including the Rowdyruff Boys. And Brick would be damned if they'd be used as pawns in some stupid villain's quest for power.
"Look, pal. Plain and simple, what's in it for us if we join you again?"
Far from being offended, the green simian appeared to have a prepared answer, one he'd stored away years in advance for this very moment. Coming over to their bedside and taking their dishes, he spoke in a much quieter, somber tone.
"Respect," he put simply. "Power. I know what it means to be shunned, cast aside, called names, looked down upon, a complete undesirable in the eyes of society. It has been my legacy since the day I was born. And your legacy."
He gestured in an emotional display of showmanship.
"We are cut from the same cloth, Brick. Out there is a world that spits at our feet and shows nothing but contempt. How many foul epithets have they called you and your brothers, hm?"
Brick couldn't block out the horrible shouts and vicious insults thrown their way over the years.
Rotten little boys!
Spawn of Satan!
Toilet trash!
Animals! Monkey offspring!
Even not at full strength, audible sizzling could be heard as the body literally boiled with anger.
"Join me, my son. Join me and you shall have all you could ever want and more. The millions who curse the name 'Rowdyruff' will soon bow at your feet…
A gloved hand slammed into another gloved hand to dramatically punctuate the point.
"...including Blossom Utonium and the rest of the Powerpuff Girls."
The hand soon reached towards them.
"We shall accomplish this together, as one. As a family."
Brick couldn't deny the appeal. It practically called to him. For all the disdain they'd shown the chimp in the past, this presented a golden opportunity too irresistible to turn down: living under a proper roof, to not go hungry, and show the world what the Rowdyruff Boys were truly made of.
To finally give that know-it-all, goody goody, pink Powerpuff Girl the reckoning she had coming to her.
He took two quick glances at Butch and Boomer, both of whom were also clearly intrigued by the idea judging by the yearning expressions on their faces. A tiny surge of affection went through Brick's heart. By joining Mojo he'd keep his promise. They'd be safe. They'd get everything they wanted. No...deserved. A place to call their own. A home.
"We'll put it up to a vote," he said aloud. "Guys?"
Each of them nodded in quick succession. Rowdy honor was clear and so was their path.
Without hesitation Brick did the same. A triumphant vision suddenly appeared: that of Blossom underneath the heel of his converse all star, completely defeated and forced into submission. It caused a smirk to widen into an aggressive, malicious grin.
He reached over and grabbed his signature red cap, placing it in its usual backwards position.
"We're in."
5:46 am the next day
Ahhh, another quiet, peaceful morning in Townsville, where our local superheroines are enjoying the last minutes of shuteye before another normal day of crime fighting…that is if things were actually normal. For the abnormal has become the 'new normal' for the Powerpuff Girls…
Seven o'clock.
The time Blossom Utonium usually found herself up and ready to take on another day protecting her city and those within its limits. For five years this was a daily part of the routine she and her sisters embraced, even on weekends when crime typically dropped. Some kids might whine, complain, or desire to sleep in. Not them. The Powerpuff Girls work never ceased and she took great pride in that.
However, even the most dedicated of superheroes were not immune from burnout.
*Beep! *Beep! *Beep! *Beep!
"Ugh, are you kidding me?"
Buttercup's rasp cut through the noise. Buttercup hugged Octi tightly to her chest. Only Blossom attempted to address the phone. Except it wasn't just one. Six different direct lines were now wired directly to their room, all linked to a separate city.
"Yes, Mayor? The national guard needs help building another ICU? Right away."
But then a second phone began beeping.
"Mayor Rivera? Five emergency calls already? We're on it."
And then the third.
"Mayor Newland? More oxygen tanks? Just send us the coordinates."
And soon all six lines were ringing incessantly, filling the room with a constant repetitive noise, rendering sleep all but impossible.
"Come on, girls. Get up!"
Blossom was already slipping out of her nightie and into the trademark pink dress she sported daily. Her sisters were not as enthusiastic.
"Leader Girl," Buttercup groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "This is the fifth day in a row we've gotten up this early."
"We're tired," Bubbles added with a yawn of her own.
The Commander and Leader gave them both a disapproving look. Deep down, she too felt a bit fatigued from the sheer amount of work they had to do in containing the spread of the Amoeba Virus, but that did not excuse laziness or complacency. They were superheroes and thus, the responsibility fell upon them to do what ordinary humans could not.
Even if such work was thankless at times.
To Blossom's relief she did not have to resort to any further measures to rouse her sisters. Green and blue blurs entered their closet and in under thirty seconds, both had zipped up their dresses, buckled their shoes and hovered in the air, ready for the day's assignments. Buttercup and Bubbles had never let her down before and never would. Duty called.
"Okay, girls. I've devised a proper way to organize our efforts so we're not flying around chaotically," she announced, pulling out a map of California from the desk and laying it out. "Our hotlines connect to six different cities across the state, therefore I'm splitting the workload into six different regions. We'll each take two. Buttercup, take the northern region including San Francisco, Oakland, and Sacramento. Bubbles, you take the south which will cover Los Angeles, San Diego, Orange County, and Santa Barbara. I'll cover the middle- San Jose, Fresno, Bakersfield, and Townsville. Any questions?"
"Yeah, how bout the definition of insanity? Because that's what we're doing right now."
"Buttercup…"
"She's right, Sissy," Bubbles said softly.
"Girls let's not-"
"And the Professor won't tell us what's going on," Buttercup interrupted yet again. "The boys reinfected us with the Amoeba Virus and it somehow spread everywhere. But we haven't done anything aside from carrying sick people to the hospital all day. Where's the solution?"
Even Blossom privately admitted that her blunt yet astute sister had a point. Ever since the start of the pandemic, their father shut himself up in the lab constantly only pausing to make them dinner and the usual goodnight. But even those didn't hold the usual familial warmth. Slowly but subtly she'd noticed bags developing underneath his eyes as well as a distinct five o'clock shadow. Stains dotted a normally spotless white lab coat. Whatever cure the Professor was working on, it clearly strained him past the usual limits. It also induced a certain sense of unfamiliar anxiety.
Was he avoiding them?
"He's working on a cure," she insisted. "It's his job. It's our job to do what we can for our fellow citizens. Now, let's not waste any more time."
Bubbles and Buttercup didn't push back this time but not before the latter muttered underneath her breath.
"He thinks it's our fault."
"Buttercup, don't say that," Bubbles whispered softly. But their older sister heard loud and clear (super hearing was a power they often forgot about).
No, she refused to consider that idea. Blossom Utonium and her sisters were superheroes. They had a job to do. Thanks to their efforts, people were brought into medical centers early enough to prevent death. National hospitals had been built. The Professor inched closer every day towards a cure. He loved them after all.
Three streaks of pink, green, and blue light zipped into the sky.
Twelve hours.
That was the amount of time the Powerpuff Girls spent fighting against an enemy they could not see, hear, or in Buttercup's case, punch. An invisible foe deadlier than any ray gun from Mojo Jojo or shotgun blast from Fuzzy Lumpkins.
As Blossom stood in the lobby of Townsville Presbyterian Hospital she tried to block out most of the noise. The usual hustle and bustle of a place like this didn't bother her all that much. She'd been to hospitals before. However, the pandemonium was unlike anything seen in their lifetime. Within anyone's current lifetime.
Doctors, nurses, and EMTs were covered head to toe in hazmat suits hurrying in and out every five seconds or so. Multiple patients on stretchers wheeled around like race cars with orders being shouted from across the room. The receptionist barely could keep track of who was going in and out. Adding insult to injury, Townsville's health care system by far eclipsed those of other major cities. Only the girls were exempt from the Michelin Man protective gear required for all hospital staff.
"San Francisco is ten times worse."
Buttercup announced as she flew in without fanfare. She'd finished her rounds and her normally confident swagger seemed deflated, hardened even.
Blossom nodded but said nothing. Neither Puff would openly voice that having been quite ill from the virus itself, by far the worst aspect of a hospital was witnessing all of the sick and dying. It certainly put truth to the power of that invisible enemy they were fighting.
The Commander and Leader remembered lying for days in cold sweats, high fevers, and the worst kind of aching chills. While never close to anything unthinkable, she could only imagine what people without the protection Chemical X were going through...which was basically everyone.
Bubbles soon zoomed in, looking equally as dreary, always an unwelcome sight given her general cheer. She clutched a massive container of something which immediately caught everyone's attention.
"More oxygen containers," she yelled over the noise.
"Bubbles, you might want to put them back by the loading dock."
A doctor came forward, whom Blossom recognized as Bob Kent, a fifty eight year old longtime chief of medicine of Townsville Presbyterian. That he was out and about constantly underscored just how serious the situation had become. No one, not even the higher ups were spared from taking patients.
"It's quite alright," he said, waving a hand aside. "I'll get a couple of aides. We need every bottle we can get. Thank you."
Kent, once known as a gruff, stingy figure among the staff, changed immensely once the spread of the virus hit Townsville. They all had.
"Doctor Kent, before we go, is it okay if I visit Mr. Roszlowski and Mrs. Rosenberg?"
Blossom felt a sense of pride swelling up in her chest. Unbeknownst to the other two Puffs she'd secretly been going over the charts of every patient brought in to receive emergency care. Due to their timely powers, everyone she transported avoided either serious illness or death. A month into this nightmare, such a record kept her going. No one would lose their life unnecessarily.
During their spare time, the girls even spent time talking to and cheering up some of the patients. In doing so she'd befriended quite a few of them, giving moral support. This provided an extra boost not only to the poor souls fighting infection, but to the doctors, nurses, and staff as well. Normally, Dr. Kent did not object, but this time he looked uncomfortable.
"That will be fine, Blossom. But…"
"But what?"
"Mrs. Rosenberg is...no longer with us. She died earlier this morning after going into shock. The Chemical X in her system...her vital organs couldn't handle it…"
Everything went numb. Mrs. Rosenberg had been fine just two days ago. Certainly not in the best condition but everyone agreed she was quite robust for someone at age 72. How could this have happened so suddenly?
Bubbles too appeared distraught and while Buttercup held a mask of neutrality, Blossom could tell she also felt the loss. Mrs. Rosenberg had been a neighborhood favorite, operating a local coffee shop near Pokey Oaks which specialized in homemade baked goods. Her innate kindness and generosity won over the children who constantly stopped by.
That she has passed from this world hit in a way nothing else could. Sure, people died. But not anyone they cared about. Certainly not those they rescued. All of a sudden, the vaunted Commander and Leader felt like the biggest failure on the face of the planet.
She died on my watch.
The streak was broken as was a piece of Blossom's heart. Another part failed to process this news entirely. What went wrong? How could she make it better?
Chemical X. That's what's killing everyone. The same substance that's in our veins
"Mr. Roszlowski is currently resting and in stable condition," Dr. Kent continued when there was no immediate response. "But there are so many on death's door we must attend to. I can ask if he's awake but I can't guarantee-"
"No, that's okay," Blossom finally cut in once she'd snapped out of her personal thoughts. "I wouldn't want to disturb him. Do you need anything else, sir?"
"No, that should do it for now."
Dr. Kent gave a sympathetic look. The look of a man who'd seen death countless times and recognized that these superpowered children had not.
"I know you girls have a lot on your plate and there are hospitals in other cities that are even more dire than ourselves. Go on."
He meant it too and the redhead respected him for it. A man who took the idea of duty seriously. She gestured for her sisters to follow her out, choosing to say nothing. What more could be said? A person dear to the community of Townsville was gone, never to come back. And the blame lay squarely at her feet.
As they floated out of the automatic doors, a small line of people were waiting outside. City and state law dictated that in this time of crisis and to avoid spreading disease, a person was required to be actively free of infection and be screened before entering any hospital facility. Even to see loved ones. Another pinch of salt in an open wound.
They worked from sun up til sound own. She tried her best. But for the first time in her life, Blossom Utonium felt like her best was not enough. And that prospect crushed the spirit more than anything else she'd ever done in five years of crime fighting. Saving people from bullets, putting criminals in jail, stopping a giant meteor from hitting the earth? The Powerpuff Girls held the power to do all those things. But what happened when that power amounted to futility? Cruelly stripped away. Leaving disease and medicine to decide who lived and who died, not them.
She'd never felt so...helpless.
"Sissy?"
Bubbles must have noticed her downcast posture as she felt herself enveloped in a hug from behind. She did not object.
"Leader Girl? You okay?"
Even Buttercup's tone indicated concern. Blossom was an awful liar and didn't even attempt to do so when she turned around to address them.
"It's my fault."
It took a couple of blinks before either of her sisters replied.
"What?"
"Mrs. Rosenberg is gone. We're going to lose so many more."
"Don't be ridiculous," Buttercup dismissed almost a bit too harshly.
"People are dying because Chemical X is in their system, courtesy of us," Blossom said in an uncharacteristic monotone.
"Come on that's not your-"
"Yes, it is!" she practically screeched back. "We failed to capture the boys that night and now as a result, the world might lose millions of lives. Not just Townsville, not just California or the United States. The world!"
Buttercup and Bubbles knew what their leader was really trying to say: Blossom failed to convince Brick and his brothers to voluntarily give themselves up in exchange for avoiding jail time. By extension she saw herself as a failure and directly responsible for the current crisis. Of course, as sisters, they were not about to let her believe that.
"Sissy, please don't be sad."
"Bubbles is right, Blossom," Buttercup agreed. "Whatever those dumb boys did or didn't do isn't on us."
"You said yourself that the Professor blamed us."
The brunette suddenly looked highly uncomfortable, twiddling her thumbs awkwardly.
"Wait, that's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean, Buttercup?" Blossom spat far too harshly than intended. "That the Professor doesn't actually blame us or that we're just big fat failures? That saving lives is insane or that we can't actually protect the people we swore to serve anymore? What?!"
Tension, exhaustion, and anger seemed to boil over in a cauldron that threatened to melt into catastrophe. Until a soft, familiar voice interrupted.
"Girls?"
Heads turned to see the kindly figure of Miss Keane standing at the end of the line outside of the hospital, head covered by an odd helmet typical of the average citizen nowadays along with medical gloves. But no one could mistake those piercing blue eyes and that medium length brown hair that ended in a perfect flip.
"Miss Keane? What are you doing here?"
The question betrayed a sense of innocence the Puffs still carried within. Right away they could tell all was not well.
"My mother is currently recovering in Townsville Presbyterian. I came to see how she was doing."
"Oh my gosh. Miss Keane, I'm so sorry."
Blossom's sentiment was echoed by her sisters in a series of murmurs and nods. Oddly enough, their teacher and tutor did not appear overly distraught.
"It's quite alright. The doctors have told me she's fine for the moment. I'm more concerned about you girls."
"Us?" Bubbles asked.
"I couldn't help but overhear," she explained a bit apologetically, but not without conviction. "And you should know, this is not your fault. Nor does your father feel that way."
"But-"
"You see-"
"It's not-"
Miss Keane would hear none of it.
"Girls, shhhh," she said, lowering to her knees and placing a hand on Blossom's shoulder. "Whatever the situation, whatever is happening, the pandemic does not fall upon you. If it weren't for the Powerpuff Girls this disease would have taken far more lives than it has already."
"What about Mrs. Rosenberg?"
"And all the poor people who don't get better?
"And the Professor not having time for us?"
The questions spoke volumes. For the guilt and anxiety was shared amongst them all.
"Girls...people die," Miss Keane stated sadly. "It's true of us all. And I promise, that if Mrs. Rosenberg, the citizens, and your father were here, they'd all say the same thing."
A silent tear rolled down Blossom's cheek as she took in those words. Bubbles barely bothered to hide her own grief as she softly wept. Only Buttercup attempted to hold back any sort of emotional response. But her next question betrayed her own grief.
"You really think the Professor doesn't blame us for what happened?"
Miss Keane took the brunette in her arms and did so with the other girls as well.
"I can assure you, he doesn't. And neither does anyone else in Townsville."
Despite the awkward contraption placed on her head, their beloved teacher simply had a natural method of mentoring and comfort that extended beyond the reach of normality. She wasn't superhuman but that hardly mattered. Her sympathies and loyalties lay with her students.
"In fact if I were you, I'd check up on him. He's probably very tired...and needs his daughters more than ever."
Blossom wiped away her tears and nodded as she noticed a fundamental shift taking place within her own heart. Somehow, the words rang true in a way no one else could deliver them.
"Are...you sure? Is your mother okay? Is there anything more we can do?"
"There isn't," came the firm response. "Please don't burden yourselves too heavily, girls. The world needs its heroes. But so does your family."
With one last massive hug, the girls took off once more into the sky while Miss Keane looked on in admiration. Parting words were so faint, not even super hearing could detect them.
"And please tell Robert just how lucky he is."
When the Powerpuff Girls returned home, they half expected their father to be laboring in the kitchen or committed to some other household chore like in normal times. Except this wasn't normal. Things hadn't fit the definition of 'normal' in quite some time, if such a concept ever existed.
The dining room table stood empty, the kitchen bare and its stove devoid of any sizzle or the apron that typically marked a home cooked Utonium meal. All lights were turned off.
"Where is he?" Buttercup asked aloud. The question contained an element of fear rather than any real curiosity. The girls knew where he was.
"He's probably working in the lab," Blossom declared, using natural logic. Any time they couldn't find their father, his place of work usually fit the bill.
"But we don't want to disturb him, right?" Bubbles asked a bit fearfully.
The Commander and Leader acted against that fear. Deep down, they all bore a certain degree of it. No one wanted to hear from a parent about wrongdoing. The Powerpuff Girls could smash through walls, fly above clouds, and shoot lasers out of their eyes. They were a hundred times stronger than the person responsible for their existence. And yet, nothing intimidated them more than a potential stern lecture or discipline from the Professor.
"We should at least check on him, make sure he's alright," Blossom reasoned despite her own trepidation.
"Wouldn't he say something, if he wasn't?" Bubbles asked.
"There's not even a meal on the table tonight. He's usually done with work by now."
Buttercup was right. Whatever the Professor was currently dealing with, they had to take the chance he needed their help. Not stay in the dark...figuratively and literally.
The girls floated to the door of the lab and opened it with an audible creak.
"Professor?"
No answer. Not a good sign.
Blossom took the lead and motioned for her sisters to follow. The lights were on, which pointed to him being awake. But they could hear no sound of experimentation, no footsteps, or the hiss and bubbling of liquid in a tube. Not even the muttering of mental notes he typically made while hard at work.
Peaking around the corner, an unwelcome sight greeted the girls. Professor Utonium was fast asleep, keeled over on his desk. What looked like Chinese takeout had spilt all over the counter and to his left was an almost empty bottle of whiskey. Worse still, his appearance looked extremely disheveled: five o'clock shadow turned into a light beard, black hair unkempt. The normally clean, white lab coat now looked as though someone had taken a paintball gun and fired several rounds.
"Oh no," Blossom whispered.
They quickly flew over and began stirring him awake.
"Professor? Professor?"
"Wha-"
"Professor, what happened? Are you okay?"
Slowly, their father came to and pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning in pain.
"Ugh, my head. Girls? What are you doing here? What time is it?"
"Almost seven," Blossom answered promptly. "We came back home and the lights were off."
Hazel eyes widened in shock and realization.
"Oh my goodness. Girls! I'm so sorry. To see me like this...what a mess. I'm...dinner! I forgot to make you dinner. Oh you must be starving! Don't worry, I'll whip something up right now. I'll see what provisions the national guard gave us-"
Bubbles pressed a gentle finger over his mouth, allowing him a moment to breathe.
"Professor, you look terrible."
Only the blonde Puff could make an otherwise insulting remark sound caring and kind.
"Yeah, you need to rest."
Robert Utonium couldn't rest. There was too much work to do and not enough time. But in doing so he suddenly became aware that he'd been accidentally neglecting his daughters and great shame began to permeate. As did a great amount of fatigue.
"This is all my fault," he muttered. "The boys, the virus, Chemical X...all my fault. I'm so sorry girls. I've been a bad parent. Can you forgive me?"
The sisters gave flabbergasted expressions to each other.
"Wait. So, you don't blame us for everything that's happened?"
Their father looked horrified at the mention of such a thing.
"Blame you? Why would…" He quickly enveloped all three of his girls in a hug as the full depth of his mistakes came to bear. "...oh my darling daughters, you are not responsible for any of this."
"But we failed to catch the boys," Bubbles sniffled.
"Yeah, and the virus has Chemical X in it," Buttercup also pointed out, tears stinging her own eyes.
"And there's almost nothing we can do for those poor people in the hospital."
Blossom's words only made the Professor squeeze that much harder before he pulled away and looked at them directly.
"Girls, I want you to hear this from me. The blame for what happened last month is not your burden to bear. You are incredibly brave for doing what you've been doing. It has made a difference, even if it doesn't feel like that sometimes."
He broke out in a watery smile, even as the scent of alcohol no doubt issued from his breath.
"I've left you alone and confused. I am so sorry for that and I swear it won't happen again."
Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup all felt a measure of relief and warmth spread through their chest. So it wasn't their fault. But that didn't mean the Professor had to shoulder the burden either. As if the metaphorical weight became too much, he suddenly slumped over in exhaustion.
"It's okay, Professor," Blossom said, catching him in an act of deja vu. Five years prior, she'd done the same when he'd slipped on the stairs, exposing their powers for the first time.
"It's not your fault either," Bubbles agreed with a bit more pep in her voice.
"Yeah, you need us just as much as we need you," came Buttercup's vote of confidence.
At that moment, Robert Utonium wanted to tell them the truth. The reality behind everything: Mojo Jojo, the boys, the virus, the government, even the solution he was working on but found his mouth failed to form correct sentences. Weariness won out.
"Girls, you don't...understand…"
"Don't worry, we'll take care of you," Blossom assured in a soft whisper. "Let's get you changed out of this dirty lab coat."
"Pee-ew, Professor. Why does your breath smell funny?"
"Not now, Bubbles. We have to get him to bed," Buttercup said, rolling her eyes at her sister's naiveness.
They continued to fuss and coo over their beloved father, eventually helping him wash up and into pajamas. Deciding he shouldn't be left alone, the Powerpuff Girls snuggled close and kept him company throughout the night, something they hadn't done together in many years.
Peaceful smiles stretched across the faces of the Utonium family as they slept. Beaten and bruised, but never broken.
So what will happen next? Can Professor Utonium find a cure in time? Are the boys making the right call joining Mojo again?
Next update will be in a month!
~The Wasp