Enjoy

Buttercup was seated in Studio 6 with Pauline 'call-me-Paula' Suzuki, a reporter for Townsville Bulletin. In just five minutes she'd learnt that Paula had a dog named Kipper, a little boy who just wouldn't come out of his shell, and a boyfriend who was only still in the picture because he 'paid more towards child support than the actual father'.

She could almost forget that this was the woman who would try to ruin her life in front of 20,000 people. Buttercup sank into her seat; it was huge, and comfy, and black. It was the type of chair she could sleep in if there weren't five cameras and several 600 watt lamps in her face.

Buttercup felt her stomach lurch and sat up swiftly.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yeah. Yes, I'm good." She tugged down her dress.

"You look absolutely beautiful by the way. Just stunning." Paula leant in, bending almost horizontal to the small coffee table between their seats. "I don't think I could ever pull that off. I'm all hips really." She gestured to her beige skirt suit and laughed. It was a high pitched twinkly sound.

Bubbles had a similar laugh; it put Buttercup at ease. She gave a nod of acknowledgement and adjusted the microphone pinned to the neckline of her dress.

Paula picked up some notecards. "Alright, so… we'll just ask you a few questions. The show should run for about an hour…nothing unreasonable, nothing too stressful. Be sure to face me when you answer questions, don't look at the cameras." She glanced around briefly. "Someone will tell us when we're on or off air, and if you get lost there are signs that'll light up when we're in business."

There wasn't much to say to that. Buttercup had been to an interview before, it was just, back then, she'd had her sisters.

Paula placed a hand on her knee. "Don't look so tense. We're all friends here."

"Okay ladies," one of the camera men yelled, "we're on air in 5,4,3,2… Now."

"Welcome Townsville to your dose of the nightly news. I'm Paula Suzuki, here with Buttercup Utonium from the Powerpuff Girls."

"Hey," Buttercup said, giving a brief nod to the camera's, before gluing her gaze back on Paula. That simple head rotation had caused her stomach to lurch again. She took a sip of water from her cup on the table.

"Now Buttercup, we all know who you are and what you've done for Townsville. You've endured numerous injuries over the years all in the name of justice. So first, I'd like to personally thank you – and I'm sure viewers at home are just as grateful." Paula smiled. But as the seconds stretched on, her smile looked strained. It was like she was expecting something. She gave a sharp nod, and that's when it clicked.

She wanted a reply.

"It's no problem," Buttercup blurted. Her nerves had clearly wiped out her conversational skills; her mind was a blank slate. "I've, uh, I've… always been a fighter. If I hadn't used my powers to help people, who knows, I could have ended up like the Row –" Shoot. She was about to mention them. Five seconds in and she'd almost mentioned them. "Like Mojo or something," she muttered.

"I can imagine," Paula said, without missing a beat. "You've been known as the 'Toughest Powerpuff' for a few years now. It's quite clear that you enjoy the rush from a fight."

"Yeah, I do."

"Huh." Paula's expression looked partly confused and partly comical in its excessiveness. "Then perhaps you can explain your recent inactivity as a member of the Powerpuff Girls?"

Buttercup tensed; Paula had set her up. Friendly? Reassuring? Buttercup had completely fallen for her lies.

"I think I speak for all of Townsville," Paula continued, "when I say, well, we never thought we'd see the day when Buttercup Utonium would lower her fists."

It felt like her tongue had hardened to stone, speaking was a heavy task, and each word she said only seemed to harm her. Buttercup shifted her gaze to the cameras. Exactly how many people were watching right now? "Was on holiday," she rasped.

"A holiday? There were hardly any sightings of you outside of your home until a week ago Ms. Utonium. What kind of 'holiday' involves being house bound?"

"…The type that's none of your damn business Pauline," she dragged out the name, gaining small satisfaction in the look of distaste on the older woman's face. She'd shown up on time, worn a formal dress, and tolerated all members of this hellish studio. She'd done everything right. Why was she being attacked as if she'd just kicked this woman's dog? She didn't owe anyone an explanation of her emotional state.

But she could practically hear Blossom's voice in her head – complaining about her lack of professionalism, rambling on about upholding the Powerpuff reputation.

Paula sighed, deeply, as if she were distressed. The faker. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm simply speaking on behalf of the citizens of Townsville." She paused. "Are you implying that they have no right to question a Powerpuff?"

Buttercup breathed through her nose; it was supposed to be a calming technique. "Of course not."

She was cornered. Paula had twisted her words within the few seconds it'd taken Buttercup to regain her demeanour. It was like she'd entered a battle of wits, where deceit was the armour, and manipulation the weapon. But this wasn't her type of combat.

Avoiding the question would be the same as insulting the citizens of Townsville. Answering would completely humiliate her. "I –" Her throat was drying up. "I already told you. I was on a break."

"Yes, yes, I remember. A 'holiday' you said." Paula smiled and crossed her legs. "But you didn't go anywhere. So it certainly wasn't a holiday bursting with excitement. Was it a recuperative one perhaps?"

"Sure." Buttercup was becoming hyper aware of her dress' constriction; it was beginning to feel like her lungs were being squashed. Every breath was strained.

"Well, don't hold out on us! What were you recuperating from? I mean, surely you didn't just abandon citizens in need so you could laze around at home," she said with a chuckle.

"No." She snatched up her cup and guzzled the entire glass before exhaling heavily. "No, never. I..." she couldn't see a way out of this. "I was dealing with emotional issues. I'd lost my powers. And all my confidence." She was proud that her voice didn't shake. Proud that she hadn't dropped her glass.

But still, her eyes were stinging; they were beginning to water. The humiliation was too much.

Paula placed a hand on Buttercup's knee. "Oh, I had no idea. There were just so many rumours… you understand why I had to ask." Buttercup wanted to punch her in the throat.

She lowered her head, pretending to adjust her dress, and blinked away the moisture. "I wasn't aware that Townsville Bulletin accepted rumours and gossip as news," she said, snatching her knee out of Paula's grip.

The woman froze. Her scowl lasted for only two seconds before she laughed – a gentle and restrained chuckle. "Of course not, of course not. Oh, you're very funny." She glanced briefly to the side, beyond the cameras, and then faced the lenses directly. "We'll be back with the green Powerpuff after this commercial break."

Buttercup stood and ripped off her microphone before the 'on air' sign had even dimmed. Now that the cameras weren't broadcasting, it was difficult to control herself. Her hands were trembling and there was a massive lump in her throat. She stalked towards the exit.

Paula grabbed her wrist. "Try a remark like that again and I will personally reveal everything I know about your 'temporary teammate'," she hissed. "You're here to answer my questions. That's it. No smartass remarks, no derogatory comments. Just answer. The questions. I give you."

Buttercup pried her off. She gripped Paula's hand with her thumb and middle finger, right in the center. Paula's bones were shifting nicely. "I'm not just the toughest Powerpuff. I'm also the cruellest. If you keep pushing me, I might just…" Buttercup pressed until Paula winced. "Snap."

She held it for a few more seconds, feeling Paula's bones grate against one another. It was a technique Blossom had used whenever she'd have a temper tantrum as a kid. It hardly required any strength, and it definitely couldn't break a bone. But the pain was convincing enough.

When she let go, Paula's eyes were watering. She looked as miserable as Buttercup felt. "There's something very wrong with you. Do you even know what position you're in?"

Silence settled between them.

"And you call yourself a hero," Paula spat, rubbing her hand.

"Yeah?" Buttercup glanced at the back exit, she needed air. Now. "Well you're everything I expected of a reporter."

"Okay…"

"Not a compliment Pauline."

The bricks were digging into her back. And it was too cold. And too windy. And too dark. And this night freaking sucked.

Buttercup took a shaky breath. She'd been warding off tears for the past two minutes. She couldn't cry. She had to step back into the studio, and swollen red eyes would be just as humiliating as revealing that she has – had. Definitely had confident issues.

She shifted back a bit more and allowed her shoulders to scrape against the wall. The pain made her feel more like herself— more like the gritty, thick-skinned, self-assured badass she'd always tried to be. And less like the blubbering porcelain doll she was at the moment. For goodness sake, she couldn't even sit on the ground because she didn't want to dirty her dress.

This night definitely sucked.

Buttercup exhaled.

She was at least grateful for the little things, like the strong wind, and the crisp air. It meant she could be mad at something other than her own incompetence. Pauline was crafty, but she was nothing compared to the red head. If Blossom were here, she'd have been able to –

Buttercup cut off that thought. She wasn't supposed to do that. She wasn't supposed to compare. She took another deep shuddering breath, until it felt like her entire chest had been iced over.

"Shit," she exhaled.

It was difficult not to compare when she knew the person who would have handled things better. When she knew that Blossom would be shaking her head, either in pity or disappointment, when she returned home.

Buttercup pushed off the wall.

Pity.

No. It'd better be disappointment.

Just then the door swung open. Buttercup scooted aside and a camera woman appeared. "We've been searching for you everywhere! We're on air in ten seconds. Get in there."

Buttercup smoothed out her dress and fluffed her curls. Yeah. She'd aim for disappointment.

The minutes passed quickly. Buttercup gave Paula short, vague answers, including her favourites: 'no comment' and 'I don't understand the question'. She refused to think about the first half of the interview. It was the only way she could look Paula in the eye, but still, the memory crept up on her each time there was a lull in the conversation.

"Alright," Paula said. Slapping her notecards onto the table with a tight grin. "Well, the last twenty minutes have been wonderful. You're just… wonderful."

"Thanks." Buttercup said, it wasn't difficult to muster a disinterested tone. She hadn't forced her lips into a smile since she sat back down, and it felt brilliant.

"Let's take a break from personal questions for a while and just have a nice conversation about current events. We have about ten minutes left. Is that alright?"

Buttercup shrugged. "It's your show."

Paula shot her an annoyed look and then shuffled through her notecards. "So, let's see… Oh. There was a recent story published online about a… Mr. Bartholomew Madden. It was well circulated I believe. Have you heard about it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, it's a story of a 12 year old male waiting to undergo surgery for a cervical fracture. It seems he was attacked at a shopping plaza sometime between yesterday afternoon and this morning."

It was an unfortunate situation, it really was, but Buttercup didn't feel like listening to someone else's sob story at the moment.

Still, it would be rude not to feign interest. "Sounds awful. It's sad that people even go after kids."

"I agree, absolutely terrible." Paula paused. "…You still don't recognize this story?"

"No. I do not recognise the story Pauline." Now even the mere sound of this woman's voice was enough to irritate Buttercup. "Should I?"

"You tell me," Paula was rubbing her palm in slow circles. It was the same hand Buttercup had 'pinched' a while back. "Do you always forget the names of the people you've harmed? Shouldn't a superhero have a stronger conscience?"

"What?"

"The Amoeba kid, Ms. Utonium. Bartholomew Madden is the Amoeba kid."

"I didn't…" How was she supposed to know his name? Everything had happened so fast last night.

But, she'd had hours after that; she'd had all of this morning and this afternoon to check up on the kid. Maybe she'd have learnt his name if she visited him in the hospital. The truth was, he hadn't weighed on her mind. Buttercup had pushed out all thoughts that didn't concern this interview or her re-emerging powers. She'd just assumed the doctors would work their magic and things would sort themselves out.

But… damn. She'd broken a kid's neck and forgotten about him.

"You threw him into the ground with your super strength. I assume your powers are returning?"

Buttercup shook her head. "I don't – no comment."

"Well, I have a few eye witness accounts here with plenty of comments." Paula shuffled through her notecards again, it seemed like she was sitting taller. "Sammie. E says 'Buttercup was completely brutal that night'. Nora. J comments 'The ground shook. She flattened the poor boy'."

"Alright… Yeah. But it wasn't like that."

But Paula just kept on reading:

"'The kid just wanted to talk. That's pretty evil. Why do that?'

'Lesson of the day? Don't piss off a Puff.'

'Buttercup's a Powerpuff, she wouldn't do that… would she?'"

"Are you deaf?" Buttercup yelled. "I said it wasn't like that!" Where the hell was she getting these comments? Random internet trolls? No one knew what had gone down; they didn't get to act like she'd abused her power.

Paula waited until Buttercup had leant back into her seat. "I don't quite understand. Are you saying you didn't mean to harm Bart Madden?"

What kind of question was that? "Of course. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Then… If you didn't harm him on purpose, it must have been an accident. One caused by a lack of control." Paula wore a smarmy grin, but her voice was silky and reassuring. "Ms. Utonium, surely this means that you can't fully control your own strength – you can't control your powers." She instantly pulled away. "Oh. Now isn't that a truly terrifying thought."

"That is not what I said." Buttercup protested.

"Well, which is it Ms. Utonium? It's either you can't control your powers, and you injured a child purely by accident. Or you can, and you injured an innocent on purpose."

Buttercup felt the blood drain from her face. This woman was toxic.

Buttercup didn't intend to make another epic revelation this evening. Admitting that she had no control over her super strength, that she couldn't summon it, or stop it – that she hadn't even seen a hint of it since last night, would just…

She'd look pathetic.

Civilians would be scared of her. Villains would think she was incapable; Buttercup was back in the hero game, she didn't need anyone to think she was easy pickings.

"I just –" her voice faded away. What was she going to do? Confess to beating up a boy in a fit of cold blooded rage? She wouldn't have any sort of reputation to protect after a lie like that.

"Well? We're all waiting for a response Ms. Utonium."

And just like that, something clicked. Buttercup couldn't fight this battle like Blossom would have. She had to use what she excelled in; action.

Mustering up her largest scowl, Buttercup rose to her feet. She took a few steps towards Paula, and watched as the woman shrunk into her seat, finally standing when Buttercup loomed over her.

Buttercup didn't need to speak; she believed the people of Townsville would read into her actions. Some comments would be irrelevant, no doubt, but some would be beneficial – they'd argue amongst themselves about the reason for Buttercup's anger.

Whether it was Paula insinuating that she'd purposefully harmed a kid.

Or the suggestion that she lacked control of her powers.

Either way, they'd see her temper as some sort of proof of innocence. And they'd defend her against both accusations –in their hearts, everyone wanted to trust a Puff.

Buttercup would never have to corroborate either argument.

It was cunning, and manipulative. It was a side of herself that Buttercup ignored – it disgusted her that she was anything like Blossom. And yet, she felt a tiny kernel of pride. Because Blossom was strong.

Buttercup pulled off her microphone, reached forward, and pulled off Paula's. She yanked the woman's wrist and watched her stumble closer. Buttercup placed the microphones into Pauline's palm and covered it with her own.

Her motions were aggressive, but controlled. Deliberate, but slow.

She was angry. And it wasn't just for the cameras.

She tilted her head slightly, just enough for her curls to hide her lips. "You're freaking toxic," Buttercup murmured into her ear. "I'm sure you have a lot of enemies Pauline. You better pray that you don't ever need saving."

And with that, she stalked out of the studio.

Thanks for all the reviews, they spur me on. This was a particularly draining chapter; I can feel Buttercup's pain.