Enjoy
"Go."
His shove sent Buttercup soaring. She struck the wall and her head ricocheted off the surface. The pain made her eyes water.
She tried to regain her balance; stand strong and steady. She needed to go for his eyes or his legs. She had to win this time. But everything before her was a blur, and she was struggling to catch her breath.
Butch advanced. He pinned her to the wall with his forearm against her throat.
Buttercup latched her legs around his torso and pulled. But nothing happened. She couldn't slip from his hold, and he certainly wasn't thrown off balance. Damn it. She'd been certain she could win this one. She was positive she could read his moves.
It was becoming difficult to breath.
Her legs slipped off his torso without consent, as if they'd disconnected from her body. Her mind was fogging over, her thoughts slowed. Buttercup willed herself to reach up and tap Butch's arm. One time. Two times. Three times.
He wasn't stopping.
Why wasn't he stopping? That was their plan. It was their rule.
She tried to speak, but only a gurgle escaped her lips. And just when her eyes slumped shut, she was released.
Buttercup clutched her throat and sucked in air, choking on her own saliva. She looked a mess, no doubt, a gasping watery-eyed heap hunched on the lab floor. "Do you have some kind of problem?" she rasped. "I tapped out."
Butch took a step back and stretched out his shoulders. "I didn't feel it." He had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his movements were both slow and mechanical. "Felt like you were trying to claw free." He snorted, a smile playing on his lips. "A lot like a kitten actually."
Buttercup shot him a sour look and hauled herself up. He could only say crap like that because she hadn't won a fight yet. "Again. Best 9 out of 17."
"Nah." He hoisted himself up onto a metal counter. "I've been tapping into my super strength for a while now. I'm not about to let my muscles seize up just because you want to play punching bag." He rolled his shoulders back with a groan. "Something tells me this type of training isn't giving you as much satisfaction as its giving me."
The ass. "Get up. We're going again."
He didn't even twitch. "Not happening."
"This isn't just about –" Pain pulsed at her temple. Buttercup winced. "…Whatever. It's just like you to run when things get hard anyway." She sagged to the floor and swiped the sweat from her forehead. Her vest top was drenched, and her shorts were riding uncomfortably high.
Butch snorted. "Hell yeah. Isn't that what everyone does? It's called survival instincts Ballerina."
"Huh." Is that what he told himself to justify the way he was living? In hiding. Practically a prisoner.
He should have just faced his damn brother.
"It's the coward's way out," Buttercup declared.
Butch tilted his head, like he was watching something fascinating. Buttercup got the distinct impression, in that moment, she was something on par with the Loch Ness monster. "Ms. Utonium," he exaggerated the words, "you walked out of an interview. You left. When things got hard."
Buttercup didn't want to talk about yesterday evening's interview. It was the reason she was down in the lab instead of up in the living room. It was the reason she'd avoided her sisters all morning. That night had left her drained and frustrated and humiliated and exposed. It was a fail – maybe not for the Powerpuff Girls, but certainly for her. She didn't want to explain anything; she'd done enough of that.
"Hypocrite," Butch hurled into the silence.
Irritating. "I didn't run. I attacked… but I don't expect you to understand." She'd won that last battle with Paula; she was sure of it. She was a Powerpuff. And she was angry. What was more righteous than that? The internet would be defending her in no time.
Buttercup stood up. It felt like the entire room was teetering, and she was forced to use the wall for support. Still, she raised her fists. "Now would you rather throw insults or throw some punches?"
Buttercup needed a win. She wanted to feel strong right now. Powerful. Threatening. Someone no third-rate reporter would ever mess with. The fastest way to do that, she reasoned, was to beat someone who was above her current power level.
Butch gave her a once over. "You don't actually think you can beat me?"
"I do." Butch had limited moves (something they'd have to work on in time) and she'd seen them all. The fact that he'd reverted to shoving her earlier proved as much. She just needed a little extra — her own super strength, or…ice breath, sonic scream, freaking anything.
She wanted a win.
"So come on." Buttercup ground out. When he refused to move she slowly let her fists fall. "Super strength is wasted on you."
"You think so Ballerina? Well feel free to show me a thing or two." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched her with a twinkle in his eyes. Like he was at a fair and he'd just discovered a new ride. "For the record, I don't need to learn how to break a neck."
Butch spoke again; he had the crooked grin he wore when he was making some kind of idiotic joke, something stupid and insensitive, probably at her expense. But Buttercup couldn't hear him. She couldn't hear his heels knocking against the table leg, or the scratch of her shoes on tile. Nothing.
And then all at once, the silence ended, replaced by a sharp, high pitched ringing that increased in decibels until Buttercup was forced to cover her ears. She flinched away from the sound, but it seemed to be coming from every direction.
Couldn't Butch hear it? Why was he just sitting there? Why was he just staring?
Buttercup's head throbbed. Again. And again. She lurched forward and vomited before stumbling into the wall, and then everything went black.
Buttercup awoke to a sour acrid taste at the back of her throat. Her tongue felt both grainy and slimy, like she'd fallen asleep while swallowing a spoonful of porridge.
But she hardly ate porridge; the mushy consistency was too much like baby food. Her head pulsed and Buttercup groaned.
That's right.
She'd thrown up.
In the lab. In front of the muscle head.
Buttercup opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She was in the living room. Butch must have carried her.
She shifted a bit, and then paused. What exactly was she lying on?
"You're up," came Bubble's voice.
Buttercup sat up slowly, as if her back were injured instead of her head. She was on the couch, and had been resting on a dark grey hoody wadded up into a makeshift pillow. It looked familiar.
"It, uh, it was the only thing I could find in a hurry," Bubbles said, reaching from her spot on the adjacent armchair and pulling it to her chest. "Blossom said we should keep your head elevated at an angle in case you threw up again. It all happened so fast, and this was on the couch, and Blossom was in a rush. I just grabbed it. I think – I guess Mitch left it here last night…"
She was rambling. Had her little mall realisation made her that uncomfortable? Buttercup kneaded her forehead and opted to change the subject before Bubbles revealed more than she wanted to hear. "I have a concussion, right?"
"Huh?" Bubbles said. Clearly her train of thought had been interrupted. "Um, yeah. Yes. Blossom said you should rest up."
Buttercup nodded and peered at the blonde's wrist. She was still wearing the blue brace. Buttercup felt a seed of guilt take root in her stomach. "Is that brace coming off anytime soon?"
"As soon as the Professor gets back from his excursion later," Bubbles murmured, glancing between Buttercup and her brace. "But, I mean, its fine really. It's nice." She waved her arm around like she was wearing a 24 karat bracelet. "It's pretty. Mitch drew all over it," she said with a breathy laugh.
Buttercup looked closer. That was when she noticed the tiny little hearts and devil emoji's splattered around the brace in a dark blue marker.
"Nice," she commented, scooting to the edge of her seat. Her headache was fading, but that didn't mean she felt like racking her brain for conversation starters. "Okay. I think I'll head back to the lab. I feel well enough to spar."
"Wait, um –"
"Yeah?"
Bubbles stood. It was a sharp, jolting motion. "Thank you," she said, before her limbs had even fully extended.
Buttercup blinked. "You're welcome?" She had no idea why she was being thanked. Perhaps this was just one of Bubbles' quirks – thanking people for existing. Considering the blondes' personality, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch.
"I mean, thank you for the interview –for doing the interview." Bubbles fiddled with the rim of her wrist brace. "I watched as much as I could. It looked horrible. But you were just so brave," she flashed a small smile before refocusing on her brace. "And I think that's why Blossom picked you. You know? Because you're always so strong, and so confident, and she must have just known you could handle it." Bubbles' voice cracked and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, you were there for us. And, I mean, even if you don't really… really like me, thank you for helping me."
"…You're welcome Bubbles." Nobody else had thanked her. Or acknowledged the difficulty she'd faced. Buttercup had done the interview to ensure that Butch was kept a secret – to save all their asses. But even Jojo hadn't expressed his gratitude in so many words.
No one had acted like it was anything to be in awe of. Bubbles was so easily impressed, and it had always been quite irritating that anything and everything could make her smile.
But maybe that was Buttercup's jealousy talking; it had always been a mission to make her own smiles last. At times it sucked to think that she couldn't quite get along with someone so considerate. It made her question what kind of person she was.
"And I've never said that I don't like you." Buttercup stood up, her legs were weak but steady. "I just said we're not that close."
Bubble's expression didn't change from its mask of misery.
Buttercup cleared her throat, her gaze skittering around the room. What was she supposed to do? She was just saying it how it was. Buttercup stared at Mitch's hoody for a few seconds. He'd said something a while back. Something that didn't seem so idiotic anymore. Something like… "If we hang out for more than five seconds, get to know each other, things could change."
"What?"
Buttercup shrugged. "I'm just saying…" Bubbles was strong-willed at the mall, and compassionate, and open, and maybe that's its own sort of strength. Having a connection with her own sister might not be so unachievable. "…that we should do something sometime."
"…Really? You'd like to spend time together?" Bubble's eyes were wider than usual, and with the rim of eyeliner she wore, it bordered on creepy.
"Not if you stare at me like that," Buttercup replied.
Bubbles' smile was followed with high pitched laughter. She hugged the hoody closer to her chest. "How about tomorrow?"
"Oh. Tomorrow's a bit hectic for me…" She'd been talking about the distant future – they could hang out in the distant future. Buttercup had the feeling that Bubbles would try to cram in years of sibling bonding in one day. "I have training to catch up on."
"Oh, uh, okay. How about –"
"We need to speak." Blossom announced, cutting through the conversation.
Buttercup felt her armour rising. "Well I just know you're talking to me. Brilliant Bubbles over here never gets that tone." She regarded the pink puff. Her hair was slicked into her signature ponytail and she was wearing a white button down with a pristine pair of blue skinny jeans. "I've been through hell the last few days, but it looks to me like you've been shopping. You haven't lost any slee –"
"Buttercup. I simply said 'we need to speak'."
Blossom's expression wasn't frozen on 'leader mode'. Buttercup had become so accustomed to her cold, clipped tone of voice, that she'd forgotten how to respond with anything but anger. "So speak," she snapped.
Blossom's brow furrowed. "I'm not attacking you." Her voice was softer – kinder – than Buttercup had heard in a while. "You did well. You protected us."
Buttercup was on edge. She felt like she was being set up for something – bad news, criticism, something.
"Townsville Bulletin crossed a line yesterday," Blossom continued. "I'll speak with them. But still, I think you dealt with it appropriately. It wasn't exactly how I would have handled things, and yet, you reminded me of myself."
And there was the insult. "I handled things my way."
Blossom paused, and then, "you're relying on the virtuous powerpuff reputation to convince people that you can do no wrong. You didn't even answer the interviewer's question. And the way you did it seemed very manipulative –"
"I handled it my way," she ground out.
Blossom just shook her head. After a while she turned to face Buttercup with a thoughtful expression. "During the interview, you made it sound like you were ready to go back into the field."
"Yeah. Because I am."
"Really?" Her voice took on an edge. "You need to be certain Buttercup. There are no 'holidays' the second time around. "
Sorry for the delay!