FUSIONFALL OR:

HOW WE GOT TOGETHER TO FIGHT THE INVASION

PART 3: REFLECTIONS

The search for Buttercup went on for months.

In the days following the battle of Tech Square, the city awaited with an anxious hope for their hero to return. Her sisters searched tirelessly, scouring every end of first Townsville, then Bellwood, then the rest of the continent for any trace that might tell them where she had landed. Nothing else was important. They ditched school, skipped meals, ignored the Mayor's calls, forwent every responsibility they had once sworn to pledge themselves to - but who could blame them. Townsville had taken an unspoken vow of silence, sobered by an impossible event, muted by a shock that still refused to process it. Even the criminals lay quiet: partly out of a solemn respect for their fallen rival, and partly in terror of crossing beings that could destroy them without a second thought in their current states.

When they could, the Plumbers and Dexlabs lent their resources to assist the girls. Despite a myriad of new incidents surging all over Bellwood, Ben made the effort of coming down at least twice a week to help out; as well as chasing up any lead the Plumbers found that might unearth new information. Meanwhile, Dexter took it upon himself to rapidly launch a series of initiatives: stationing Dexbots throughout the region on 24/7 watch, whilst also offering free security upgrades to Townsville's public departments as a contingency during the time of grieving. And finally, Dexter's family came over to bring food or help with housework whenever the girls would let them. They did what they could and then some more, knowing they could only imagine what their friends were going through.

But of all those who were in pain, Utonium suffered the most. The Professor had led the first search parties that supported his daughters, patrolling on foot throughout the hours of the day and night. Time went on, and the places they could search and numbers willing to accompany them dwindled, until eventually the girls persuaded him to stop and let them take on the responsibility completely. Nowadays, he spent most of the time in his lab at home, tinkering away at nothing in particular, because anything was better than trying and failing to sleep. The girls felt powerless as they watched him waste away: growing more haggard, reclusive, needing to be physically pulled out of his room to shave or eat. Since the first day they had never seen him cry – he refused to let them – but in the dark they could hear him quietly weeping.

Then one day, when the tears could no longer flow, when there was nowhere left to look, and nobody could confess they had lost hope, the girls against all instinct and desire… gave up.

On a cool evening in the early days of Fall, the city of Townsville organised a vigil to allow its people to mourn their lost hero. It took place in Pokey Oaks, the neighbourhood where the Powerpuff Girls resided, at the park they had played in growing up. It was… hard for everyone. Seeing the portrait of Buttercup, blown up on a large canvas, surrounded by candles and flowers. People taking turns to lay down cards and objects that they remembered her by. The girls making an appearance. Without Utonium, but that was expected. They didn't stay for long, offering a soft thanks for the love and support they felt. They helped unveil a trilogy of statues erected in their honour, offering polite, albeit awkward appreciation as they gazed up at their features carved in stone. Then they took off, leaving everyone to spend the time they needed.

One could not count how many that had come. Most with family, some with friends, or simply alone. It was a gathering of the community, people who had known the Utoniums for as long as they had lived in the neighbourhood. Small conversations bloomed here and there, flowering into reminiscence, swapping stories about their interactions with the family over the years. The local kids were especially present, having known Buttercup and looked up to the Powerpuff Girls their entire lives. They congregated near the back of the crowd, somewhat intimidated by all the adults gathered in one place. They too exchanged tall tales of their own: of the times such as when Buttercup accidentally kicked a kid's football so hard it landed in Bellwood's Beach City, or when Blossom not only made those boys from Peach Creek return every dollar they had scammed out of the Herkleton kids, but handwrite a personal apology to each of them. All took part in the storytelling, because all had something worth sharing.

Well, all except two.

Somewhere near the front, standing comfortably amongst the adults, ignoring the suspicious glances being shot at them, were two kids happily chatting. Oddly, they had about a person's distance between them, and despite the animation of their conversation they never quite made any eye contact with each other - rather, just glanced every now and then at the space between them. One of the kids, an obnoxious little boy with an unfortunate appearance, could be heard asking a barrage of crude questions.

"When's the freaking hot dog guy coming by? I'm starving!" he whined.

"There is no hot dog guy, Billy, you idiot," Billy's friend responded. She had short blonde hair and wore a bright pink dress that drew a stark contrast with the venom that dripped from her words.

"Well how am I gonna get a hot dog at this thing if there's no hot dog guy?"

"You don't."

"But that's not fair! I got two dollars - I can afford it!"

"Billy, we are at a vigil. You can't get a hot dog, because they don't sell them."

Billy's eyebrows furrowed as he processed this information. "I don't get it."

"Of course you don't, you moron."

"Hey! Grim, tell Mandy to stop calling me names just because I want a hot dog! Or wait, I got an idea, can you take us to get ice cream instead after this thing ends?"

The girl, Mandy, rolled her eyes as Billy started begging.

"Please? Pretty please?"

But strangely, he wasn't addressing Mandy, nor had he referred to her when he had made his original request. No, it seemed that he was speaking to someone else.

"Oh come on, Grim!" Who was Grim?

It really was odd, the way they kept such a large space between them even as they moved gradually with the crowd. It was almost as if they couldn't close the gap, as if there was something obstructing or discouraging them from moving into it. In fact, if one paid close attention, they might notice something about the kids' shadows, and how they seemed to cast a blob that suggested a group huddled together, rather than two separate individuals. One might also find that when standing near the kids the air felt strangely colder, and that even though it was a warm Fall evening one could feel a chill crawl down their back. It really was very odd, not just how they stood but how those kids spoke. Not directly looking at each other, not even really talking to each other. But to this mysterious third individual.

Grim.

If one were paying attention, they might indeed have noticed all of these unusual signs. But no one was, because they were not allowed to. Because between the boy Billy and the girl Mandy was that which only they could witness, a gift they had prised from the hands of death itself, their companion known to them as 'Grim': but to everyone else he was the Grim Reaper, Keeper of the Nine Gates, Steward of the Crossed, Lord of the Underworld.

As his two young masters bickered from either side of him, Grim stared ahead at the stage, where Buttercup's portrait grinned back at him, his mouth set in distant thought. For there was something that he knew that no one else did, not even Billy and Mandy. A secret truth that intrigued him as it did concern him.

No one had crossed over to the Underworld on the day of Buttercup's disappearance. She was still out there.

Somewhere unknown, at an hour unspecified, thousands of people gathered. Countless operatives, each representing their branch of the largest organisation in the world, outfitted in all manner of distinctive uniforms. They carried weapons – pistols strapped to their hips and rifles slung over their shoulders; swords, bats, and sticks in their hands; and even more specialised tools of their trade that could nay be described. No one knew anyone's name – no one wanted to – but rather just knowing each other's 'Numbuh' was enough. It was the way they kept themselves in check, to ensure no one could betray or be betrayed, because in their line of work trust was nothing, and secrecy was everything.

It was time for the grand high meeting of the Kids Next Door.

A massive stadium housed them, expanding as far as the eye could see. In the middle, a stage, and on top of it a simple conference setup: a long table fitted with mics at each place and chairs behind them. The KND watched the stage in dead silence, because they knew the gravity of a situation that would warrant Supreme Leader Numbuh 362 calling them all to one place. Every known Sector was present, entire units huddled together, exchanging glances between themselves and with their other peers sitting beside them. No one dared be the one to break the silence, content to hold onto their questions until the organisation's leaders emerged below to answer. Although there was there was one thing that did raise eyebrows, which was the notable absence of the famed Sector V in the crowd.

The sound of rapid footsteps came echoing through one of the stadium entrances. Someone was coming: Numbuh 65.3. He walked to one end of the table, pulled out a chair and stepped in to lean towards a mic. He carefully tapped it to make sure it was on before speaking.

"All rise for the Supreme Leader of the Kids Next Door," his voice boomed across the stadium.

The operatives in attendance sprang to attention. A moment later, more footsteps could be heard, this time a scattered pattern suggesting a group of people approaching. Sure enough, here came Numbuh 362 striding into the room, her stainless steel kabuto glinting under the lights focussed on her path. In tow came a slew of others: Numbuh 86, her face contorted into her usual scowl; Numbuh 35, his expression indicating both worry and exhaustion; Numbuhs 74.239 and 71.562, who fidgeted as they moved and kept exchanging nervous looks; and finally, an operative whose appearance most recognised but few had actually seen in person – the enigmatic Numbuh Infinity. They all lined up behind their seats with Numbuh 362 in the middle, waiting for her to move first.

"Please be seated," Numbuh 362 spoke into her mic. Everyone sat down. Numbuh 362 followed suit, lowering herself into a cushioned seat. She placed her hands on the table and stared into the distance. The audience watched her with uncertainty, unsure of what she was doing. Numbuh 362 continued like this for what felt like minutes, until she let out a deep sigh and reached up to rub her temples. Her gaze returned to look around the room for a moment, before she began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming. As you undoubtedly know, my calling you here today means that we must discuss a matter of the utmost importance. It is a decision I have not made lightly, but with the knowledge we possess and the amount of time we have left to act, I am left with no choice.

To state the present issue in no uncertain terms: a giant unidentified object has entered our solar system and is currently headed on a rapid trajectory towards planet Earth. As far as the KND is aware at this moment, it is unstoppable."

A noise of murmurs spread through the crowd. Operatives whispered loudly to each other to confirm whether they had heard the same thing. Outer space? This was way beyond anything any of them had expected. Surely they had just misunderstood her. But if they had not… Many had heard the rumours that the KND's reach did not stop at the Moonbase, but whether they merely referred to the satellites that were sent out to orbit, or somehow something more, like actual populated bases - nobody could say. Either way, this was too large a pill to just swallow. They needed an explanation.

Numbuh 362 was not surprised by their reaction. Satisfied that they had gotten over their initial disbelief, she continued.

"The object was first identified by Numbuh 2 of Sector V several months ago, around mid-Spring. He has been monitoring it steadily since that time, keeping a regular log of reports, the data of which he has been analysing with the assistance of first his teammates, then later the Deep Sea Science Lab. Together, they have made several conclusions about the object in question, which they have prepared to explain today.

Please come forward, Sector V."

Once again, the stadium entrance sounded with footsteps. There they were: Numbuhs 1 through 5, hurrying towards the stage. Numbuh 2 led the way, carrying a stack of papers and a laptop under one arm. Numbuhs 4 and 5 were pushing a large trolley, on top of which appeared to be some sort of projector. Numbuhs 1 and 3 brought up the rear.

Upon reaching the front of the stage, Numbuhs 4 and 5 got to work setting up the projector. It was a classic product of 2x4 technology, primarily made up of various bits of stripped down photography gear - several lenses, flashguns, reflective screens - then supplemented with any household appliances that the makers could get their hands on. The projector twisted and folded out until it resembled a sort of lotus, with its screens unfurled like great petals, and its intricate system of light and sound production nestled within. When done, Numbuh 5 raised a thumbs up to Numbuh 2, who responded with a nod whilst tapping away on the laptop he had set up on the other end of the table. He took the end of a cable that Numbuh 4 extended to him, and plugged it into the laptop, before going back to make a few selections with the laptop's trackpad and hitting enter. The projector whirred to life, the reflective screens beginning to spin with increasing speed, picking up a kaleidoscope of light that emitted from the nest in the centre. Gradually, the audience could see an image forming in the air above it, a sort of primitive hologram that would have stunned the professional tech world, floating in the air as it gradually solidified to display what Numbuh 2 had asked it to. It was a model of the solar system, fitted onto a graph with several points highlighted with bright red marks. Numbuh 2 stepped under it to make sure it was showing everything he needed, then when satisfied, cleared his throat and turn to begin addressing the crowd.

"I first noticed something was up when our scanners weren't getting regular signals from this thing. It seems to disappear and reappear at random, showing up in one place then blipping suddenly… until it pops up again way further along than it should." Numbuh 2 pulled out a pointer to indicate what he was explaining, highlighting to the audience the way the red marks were randomly distributed on the path the object followed. "We're not sure yet, but our working theory is that whatever is happening during those blips is causing it to get much faster each time, almost like it's getting some sort of boost.

We've tried sending probes from our satellites towards it, hoping we could maybe pick up a sample or something. Unfortunately, we've lost most of them. They seem to approach easily towards the object but as soon as they make contact: instant destruction. The few that have made it back have come back broken beyond repair, so the most we've been able to do with them is work off of the damage to try to figure out the cause. So far, no luck other than confirming that this object is hostile and very powerful." Numbuh 2 flicked through various images, showing off the before and after of the probes that they had managed to retrieve, as well as diagrams that hypothesised what happened during the encounters between the object and KND probes. What stood out the most was the way the probes seemed to have been eaten away at, as if some sort of corrosive substance or degenerative disease had latched itself on and worked its way through.

Numbuh 2 hesitated before showing them the next picture. He flicked to reveal something that many could not understand upon first glance… until the terrible realisation dawned on them. "In terms of size…" Numbuh 2 continued, "It's big. Real big. It's about the size of a dwarf planet. In fact, that's what we've started to call it – Planet Fusion, because we strongly suspect that the reason it moves in such an erratic way is because somehow, it has the ability to blend in with its surroundings. It's also why we suspect that none of the adult organisations have noticed it yet – their tech can only see what it looks for. And the way things are going, they are not going to notice in time."

Shock. That was all the crowd could feel, shock. This wasn't what they signed up for, it couldn't be – could it? No, no, no, the KND wasn't founded to deal with these kinds of issues, they were meant to fight the evil adults, the ones that firmly resided on Earth, not weird, scary, space monsters!

"What about the Plumbers?!" someone shouted in a panic. "Yeah, what about the Plumbers?!" another agreed.

"What about Dexlabs?!"

"What about MEGAS?!"

The crowd erupted, kids scrambling to cry out incoherently, offering muddled suggestions to look for any possible alternatives to what Numbuh 2 was implying. Numbuh 86 rose from her chair, opening her mouth to roar at the audience for their potential insubordination, but Numbuh 362 reached up to grab her wrist, shaking her head to tell her to sit back down. It was easy to forget sometimes that the Kids Next Door were made up of... well, kids. Kids that got scared, especially when things were as overwhelming as they were now. And whilst they were sworn to fight against all adult tyranny, not all adults were that bad, and so many couldn't help but look up to some of the world's older heroes as a solution.

Numbuh 362 raised her hand to calm down the crowd, shouting into the mic to get their attention. "All right, all right – hey! Keep it together, let's not lose focus!" The kids slowly began to settle, old training kicking in that stamped away the doubt in order to give all to the mission. Numbuh 362 watched her troops with sad eyes, momentarily looking much older than the KND's creed would ever allow its members to be. She took another deep breath, feeling the incredible weight of the most important decision she would ever have to make, and finally told them:

"I know you guys are scared. I know you're afraid of what this means for the KND, and that you're worried about whether we can handle a problem of this magnitude. The truth is… we can't. This thing is hurtling towards the planet, getting faster every day, and nobody knows except us. Not Dexlabs, not the Plumbers, not the Justice Friends or MEGAS or the Crystal Gems or any of the heroes that we would normally let step in to defend things. We are the only ones that know, and I'm sorry to say that we are not enough.

This is beyond anything the Kids Next Door have ever dealt with before. It is above any kid, any adult, any teen or anything in between. The fate of the entire world as we know it is at stake, maybe even the entire galaxy – and for that reason, I believe it is now time to load the KND's ultimate mission:

Operation P.U.B.L.I.C."

Dexter and Computress strolled through Dexlabs' entrance hall as the din of construction crashed and banged all around them. Builder-bots glided across the ground and through the air, carrying metal beams, carefully placing delicate sheets of glass, and hauling forward huge bags of cement. Repairs on the building's outer walls had proved to be a much more labour-intensive job than Dexter had anticipated, as the damage that had been caused by Mojo Jojo's attack that day had penetrated to the site's very foundations. Over the past few months Dexter had had to orchestrate a total strip-down of the entrance hall's front half, setting up a frame to support the surviving roof as the builder-bots got to work rebuilding Dexlabs' entire exterior from scratch. It was costly, both in terms of time and money, but it wasn't hard, and several months of progress later they were nearing completion.

A builder-bot glided over to meet the two to give the hourly report. Things were proceeding smoothly, as expected. Performance analysis predicted that the final reinforced layer of the inner walls would be set into place by the end of this evening, and that tomorrow they could get to work inserting the decorative mosaic panels into them. Dexter nodded absentmindedly, waving a hand at Computress to verify the details while he resumed walking with his hands clasped behind his back. The reality was, despite such a major project taking up most of his time, there was something else that occupied Dexter's mind:

The volunteer had not yet returned.

Since the accidental time jump induced by his being thrown into the external control panel, Dexter had spent countless hours trying to re-establish contact with the volunteer. No matter what he did, there was zero answer, and not even an indication that the messages were being received. But what was worse is that Dexter had no idea when the volunteer had even travelled to, as the system error had caused the machine to reset all specific details of time and date, apart from only one setting – the direction. Through his numerous attempts to troubleshoot the journey, Dexter had at least managed to establish that the machine had definitely travelled forward. The problem was, how far? Normally, this would have been easy - just read the logs, load up the line graphs and identify the patterns in the wavelengths that showed the atmosphere changing with age. But because of that stupid monkey, the machine's present day software had locked itself into a hard reset during the battle and cleaned its history of all previous journeys. What Dexter had managed to salvage was but a drop in an ocean of corrupted data, making it impossible to do anything but play detective.

Still, why couldn't he re-establish contact? Even if the journey's details were lost in the present day, that only meant that he couldn't tell when the volunteer had gone to by himself. If he made contact, his software would just simply synchronise with the machine's - resolving the lost data problem by updating it with theirs. After all, that was how he had designed it, the machine hosting the master computer with the present day being a companion to it. The machine was designed to be self-sufficient, in the unlikely situation that any traveller using it could not connect to their team in their original time, so that they could still make jumps independently without relying on their guidance. This was one of those situations. The volunteer had gone to whenever they had gone, and even if it was not when they had intended, they knew exactly what they needed to do to jump back.

So why hadn't they?

Why hadn't they followed the plan? As soon as they found their bearings, evidence obtained or not, they should have come back to the exact day they had left. Or worst case, within a few days of the original date. That was what they had agreed upon – to prioritise their safety, and the safety of the machine. But the plan had clearly not been followed, because they were not here, which meant only one thing… Something happens. Something happens in the future that would prevent the volunteer from completing their mission. It either happens to them individually, or they find themselves in a situation they cannot escape from. The question then, is what?

What happens in the Future?

"Yeah, yeah, get 'em! Get em! Get 'em you big stupid fat ugly guy!"

A large man with an impressive moustache danced with the moving elegance of a world-class ballerina. He leaped and twirled, reaching up to touch bricks floating through the air, and came down to join his partners in the dance, an exotic cast that performed elaborate choreography around him. Sometimes he randomly stopped and crouched for no apparent reason, other times he ran headfirst into a wall or dived into a well to his untimely death. This was because Billy was an imbecile who still hadn't grasped the controls of this game despite having played it every day for the past two months.

"Hey Grim, why'd you kill me? We're supposed to be working together!" Billy shouted with indignance at the living room's television screen, throwing his controller down to glare at his companion sitting beside him on the couch.

"I didn't kill you, Billy, it was you who killed me," Grim spat, bony hands gripping his own controller with seething rage. Unfortunately for him, he had no choice but to join the children in playing these ridiculous games, mindless things that annoyed the senses and infuriated the soul. And even so, he could have gotten used to it, if it wasn't for the fact that his coplayers were some of the most incompetent and antagonistic gamers he had ever had the displeasure of playing with.

"All right, all right, new game, new game! This time try not to get yourself killed, okay Grim?" Billy sang, already over the loss and pumped up to play the next round.

"I'm not da one who should be worried about gettin' demselves killed," Grim muttered, his eye sockets contracting unnaturally to indicate him narrowing his gaze in concentration. They continued like that for a while, fingers stabbing at their controllers as they made their fat men dance and dance on the screen. But as he had been consistently doing so over the past couple of hours, Grim found his mind drifting elsewhere until he was violently brought back to reality by Billy squealing at him.

"What is wrong with you, Grim?! Get your head back in the game, stop getting killed!" Billy yelled, bouncing up and down on the couch in frustration.

"Sorry, Billy," Grim replied, shaking his head of the thoughts that plagued him and hunching back over the controller to focus on the game.

"Sorry? Wh-what, I've never heard you say sorry before? What's going on with you, Grim?" Billy put his controller down, turning to peer into Grim's face. His mind wasn't developed enough to be suspicious, but he could definitely tell something was wrong.

"It's just…" Grim paused. "I've been thinkin'."

"Oh, well that's where you messed up! Thinkin' never helped me with anything!" Billy turned his head up proudly. Grim looked down at him with distaste.

"I know. But for me… Well, I've been really thinkin' about somethin' serious."

"What?"

"I've been thinkin'…" Grim paused. "Of revealin' meself."

"Oh, I don't think that's legal, Grim."

"... What? No, not like that you idiot! I mean that I think it's time I showed meself to da world."

"Ooohhh, okay. Sure!" Billy said happily, then went back to playing his game.

"That's it?" Grim said incredulously. "That's all you gonna say?"

"Yeah, why not?" Billy said. "I think it's a great idea! You and me can be famous, well you're already kinda famous, but you'll be even famouser, and we can get free stuff from anywhere in the city!"

"You're not even gonna ask me why?"

"Nah, I don't care."

Grim sat back into the couch, reaching up to rub his forehead. I guess that's that, he thought. It baffled him how the children could complicate the simplest things yet were so carefree about the most complex issues. As long as he had Billy's permission, he didn't need to consult her. At least, that's what he was 99% sure of. Okay, 90%. Maybe 80%. It had been a very long time since he had read the Reaper's Handbook, but he was 65% sure that any denizen of the Underworld that found themselves enslaved by more than one member of the Overworld needed only the permission of one to execute a decision. Now, all he had to do was keep it a secret between him and Billy until he found the right moment to-

"What are you doing?"

"Me and Grim are playing games! Also, Grim wants to reveal his existence to the entire world!"

Great.

Mandy's malignant aura suffused the living room. He could feel her wicked eyes boring into him, urging him, daring him to look back at her. How could such a little human girl possess a heart so black, a being so demonic it made Grim himself shiver. Mandy moved further into the room, stalking around the couch like a predator with its sights on its prey, stepping into Grim's eyeline so he would be forced to meet her gaze.

"Explain yourself," Mandy said.

"Well, Mandy, it was just an idea really, but well, I've been thinkin'," Grim stammered, hating himself for losing his composure yet again in the face of this girl's evil. "I've been thinkin' about what happened to Buttercup, you see, and da thing is that despite everyone givin' up on her she actually hasn't crossed over to da Underworld. So I was thinkin' it might be time I revealed meself to tell da world and da Powerpuff Girls to keep on lookin'?"

"Absolutely not."

"But Mandy," Grim tried to reason with her. "Da world needs Buttercup! Can't we just give dem a bit of hope?"

"I don't care. Like you said, she hasn't crossed over, so they have plenty of time to figure it out. And if they're too late, then they're too late, and there's nothing they could do about it anyway."

Grim stared at her. "How can you be so heartless?" he finally said.

Mandy laughed coldly. "You're talking to me about heart, Grim?"

"You know what I mean! Don't you kids look up to dese girls? Don't your friends do? Believe me Mandy, when I say I have thought about this, I have really thought about this, and this may be the only time when telling da world about me is a good thing!"

"It doesn't matter. You aren't doing it."

"But Mandy-"

"We are not having a conversation. You are being told, Reaper. I order you to stand down, go back to fulfilling your current purpose of entertaining us, and never bring this subject up again." She cut him off and ended it there.

Grim sat in silence. If his face had cheeks, they would burn from humiliation. He watched Mandy turn on her heel and casually walk away, satisfied by the outcome of the conversation; then he glanced at Billy who had long checked out and was instead busy picking his nose. What horrible children. What horrible, horrible children.

Grim had no choice but to obey his master for now. But he swore on all things unholy, this was not over. He would find a way.

END OF PART 3