CHAPTER 27: WHAT A WOLF REMEMBERS

ME: Hey look. An update.

BRICK: *raises eyebrow* Again with the cryptic chapter titles?

ME: Isn't that what chapter titles are? It's better than tossing in a lackluster title.

BRICK: Okay, I'll give you that.

ME: Well, I guess it's time for you guys to start reading...

BLASTER: Kuku only owns OC's such as myself, and the story!

BANDIT: Let's see what happens now that Brick's awake.

Chapter 27: What a Wolf Remembers

"You know, since it is almost my birthday... I want you to bake the biggest, best-est cake ever!"

Rolling his eyes, Damon smiled as he kept walking, carrying a basket of berries. "I'm starting to regret reminding you of your birthday. It's all you've been talking about for the past few days. Oh, and 'best-est' is not a word."

"I would've remembered it sooner rather than later anyway," his companion replied, sticking his tongue out as he picked berries. He tossed one into his mouth before throwing the rest into Damon's basket.

"Careful with the berries, Vix," Damon stated, taking a few of the small fruits from a nearby tree.

Vix was hardly paying attention while he gathered as many as he could. "I want it to have lots of fruit and other stuff on it," he continued, referring to the cake.

Damon smirked. "The cake-baking won't come till later, you silly."

"Puh-lease?" Vix pressed, turning to Damon and batting his eyes in an innocent manner.

Laughing, Damon gave the boy a noogie. "I don't know..."

"Aw, man! You're messing up my hair," Vix whined.

"What happened to shy Vix?" Damon asked, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of monstrosity have I raised?"

Vix rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm not that bad. I'm still shy a lot."

"True that," Damon responded, letting the boy go. "Now come along; if you want a cake with lots of fruit, then we have a lot of picking to do."

Vix caught up to his guardian with light jogged steps. "Hey, Damon... I was just wondering, since it's nearly my special day and all..."

"What now? I hope you don't expect me to build you a roller coaster or give you a castle or something," Damon teased.

Vix hesitated, wishing that he was joking. He knew that his request would catch Damon off-guard, and he wasn't sure if he should ask about it, but he was growing desperate. "Well...not exactly."

"Good. Anything but a roller coaster," Damon joked.

"Well, you can relax since it's not that, but it'll still be quite shocking."

Sensing the sudden seriousness in the boy's tone, Damon turned to stare at Vix. "Okay...what is it then...?"

Vix took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying not to be nervous. "I was just wondering if...if..."

"If...?" Damon pressed.

"—If I could go to the city again after all this time away from it before my birthday!" blurted Vix.

Suddenly, Damon froze and Vix crashed into the man. Taking a step back and rubbing his head, Vix was surprised when he felt hands grab his shoulders. "Are you sure about this?" Damon demanded.

"I-I'm quite sure—" Vix tried to say.

"You know I keep you here to keep you safe," Damon continued.

"Damon, there's nothing so bad in the city that I need to hide for my whole life."

"I'm a little worried, given how tough and cruel the world outside can be. Vix, you and I are a little different. The world might not accept you—"

"I know that, but I'll be fine! The RRB are different and they get to fly around in broad daylight. I'm not all that different from them. Besides, they won't be able to tell that I'm a—"

"People are so judgemental nowadays; what if you get bullied? Oh, let's not even get started on the mess of roads and traffic. Everything about the city is different from here."

"...Damon, I grew up in the city."

"Vix, please. Reconsider this. I'm doing this for the good of your future."

Finally reaching his breaking point, Vix shouted, "I don't see what the problem is! I'll be perfectly fine in the city! You'll be there to keep an eye one me; besides, I grew up in the city! I know what it's like, Damon! You have nothing to worry about!"

Damon looked taken aback as Vix calmed down. Seemingly realizing his outburst, Vix started apologizing, "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No... No." Damon sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I-I think you're right. It's about time you return to the city world."

"Really...?" said Vix, eyes brightening as he smiled hopefully.

"...Really." Damon smiled back, a little sadder this time. "You deserve it, birthday boy. You're right; I should stop thinking about myself and listen to you more... Protecting you doesn't mean sheltering you from everything that's happening in the world." Pausing as he realized how cheesy he was getting, Damon fake-gagged. "Alright, that's enough cheesiness for one day. Anyway, what I mean is that I suppose we will go the city before your birthday. We can shop for presents then."

"Yes!" cheered Vix, doing a fist-pump and grinning. "Thanks so much, Damon!"

"It's fine. Just don't screw up," Damon teased.

"I won't," Vix promised. "You rock." As an afterthought, he added a "Dad".

Damon stared at him in surprise, but then he shook his head with a smile. "You too, son, you too."

Buttercup sighed, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. Friday. Then Saturday. I need a fucking break. She had a feeling the new day was going to be quite long, and detention would feel even longer. Despite Butch and her forgiving one another for the most part, BC knew that there would be awkwardness in the centimetres that stood between them.

Since yesterday, Blossom had hardly spoken. It was clear that her mind was somewhere far away; somewhere that the memory of Brick's unconscious and damaged body resided. Buttercup knew her sister was worried; had it been any time, BC would've teased the redhead for thinking of Brick.

But not this time.

This time, Brick was unconscious. He wasn't awake. And he hadn't been awake for quite a few days now, days that ticked by on the clock like a moving train. Buttercup was worried Brick would wake up too late and miss that train. This time, Buttercup didn't want to tease her sister because...while she'd never admit it...

...She was worried too.

Brick was her friend, and the red Ruff had usually been her chosen Rowdyruff Boy to confide in. She and Brick hung out with the relaxed atmosphere of two good guy friends, rather than the heated teasing and arguing Buttercup and Butch would exchange. Brick was always cool; just a little too calm and cool with a really rough and fiery edge.

"Buttercup, can I ask you something?"

Pushing away her thoughts, Buttercup turned to see Bubbles' frown. "What's wrong?" she asked, trying to be casual. She now knew why Braker had seemed so tired and curt last night; he was wary of her finding out about Brick. Too bad that she did, because now she was having a hard time being casual and pretending nothing was wrong.

"What's gotten into Blossom?" asked Bubbles, biting her delicate lip. "She looks upset."

Buttercup glanced at Blossom sideways. Her sister did indeed seem to be in some sort of deep, hazy trance. "She's... She's fine. She's just probably stressed from overworking again. You know how she is." The dark-haired Puff forced herself to shrug and pretend everything was okay.

"...I guess," Bubbles murmured, looking unconvinced. She brightened then, her attention being drawn from a pacing Blossom to someone entering the school's main door. Bubbles waved eagerly. "Good morning, Boomer!" she sang.

Relieved at the distraction, Buttercup made a mental note to send Boomer her thanks sometime. Just as she was about to greet him too, Buttercup noticed something wrong.

Like Blossom, Boomer seemed not entirely there. He nearly walked past Bubbles, and he had deep bags under his eyes. His hair was a mess, as if he'd barely run his hand through it, let alone brushed it.

As he passed her, leaving a disappointed Bubbles behind, Buttercup stopped him. She kicked her leg out in front of him, floating in midair. "Hey," she called as he tripped.

Stumbling forward, Boomer's head turned quickly toward her. Buttercup was briefly surprised by the dark look in his eyes; his irises having shrunk as he let out an animal-like snarl. But then he seemed to calm down, standing up and straightening his shoulders. "Hi."

"You ignored Bubbles," Buttercup said pointedly. Bubbles looked nervous, as if she was worried a fight would break out.

"Sorry." Boomer nodded at the blue Puff. "I had...other things on my mind."

Buttercup figured that it was about Brick, so she didn't press further. Instead, she asked, "How was your trip to Ross' house last night?"

"It was really Michael's house. And the trip was fine; thanks." Boomer rubbed his eyes, looking tired.

"Huh." Buttercup raised an eyebrow. "Ross lives with Michael?" She paused. "I thought you guys didn't like Michael."

Boomer paused as well, hesitating. "We aren't a fan of him, but we don't hate him."

"I'd hope not," Bubbles intervened, "Michael and his friends are such nice guys. I don't see what the problem is." She smiled, almost to herself. "Especially Sidney; he's cute."

Boomer tensed, and Buttercup noticed. "Hey, Bubbles; maybe you and Blossom should head to class now. Boomer and I have Socials together, so we don't have to go yet."

"Oh right!" Completely oblivious to the sudden change in Boomer, the blue Powerpuff Girl skip-floated to her pink-eyed sister. Buttercup watched Bubbles gently guide Blossom away, and BC's worry for her redheaded sister disappeared for the moment. She trusted Bubbles enough to make sure Blossom was okay.

"Well, I should go too," Boomer stated, already walking away.

"Wait a second; I said we could walk together," Buttercup countered as she flew after him.

"I didn't exactly agree nor did I exactly invite you."

"Whoa, no need to be a dick. That's more like Butch's department than yours," Buttercup shot back.

Boomer sighed. "Okay, okay. Fine. But you know why I'm stressed out. Bandit told us—all of us—that you and Blossom snuck a visit in yesterday night after visiting hours ended."

"Visiting hours were never open to begin with, so we decided to go without an invitation," replied Buttercup, her tone sarcastic.

"Well, now you know. Brick got in a fight and he messed up," Boomer continued, his face dark. "Badly," he added as an afterthought, "so badly he's unconscious now. He can be so stupid sometimes. I wish he'd think not just about his arrogant self for once and listen t—"

"I know you don't mean that."

Stopping, Boomer turned to stare at her. "What?" he said.

"I mean, you obviously don't think that about Brick. Or, you do; but not actually right now because he's unconscious and you know it," Buttercup explained.

Boomer glanced away. "...I guess you're right."

"You know I am," Buttercup replied firmly. She paused. "Is Brick...? Y'know?"

Boomer shook his head almost immediately. "I don't know. Bandit came out of Brick's room this morning and wouldn't say a word. He wouldn't let any of us visit Brick either. So I don't know if he's gotten worse or not."

Before Buttercup could ask further, Ross showed up. "Hi, Boomer; Buttercup!" the boy greeted, Michael and the others following behind him.

Buttercup's' return in greeting to Ross was a shy hi and a red face. Boomer was suddenly cheerful again, but it seemed strained. Even Ross seemed to notice. The two talked about all the fun they'd had last night. Buttercup watched as Boomer's gaze flicked to Sidney a few times.

Out of all of Michael's friends, Buttercup knew that to the Ruffs (besides Ross), Sidney was the most likeable. Boomer had never shown the shy boy any ill will, but now that Bubbles had called him cute...

"—And I just wanted to say, BC, you look pretty today."

Blushing, Buttercup was immediately drawn from her silent questions as she turned to stare at Ross, stunned. "Oh... Uh...thank you," she replied shyly.

He smiled his white smile, eyes cheerful. "You're welcome."

From beside Ross, Michael rolled his eyes. His aqua gaze seemed annoyed. "If you're done flirting, then let's get to class. I don't want to be late."

"I was complimenting her, not flirting," Ross countered. He turned back to Buttercup. "See ya, BC."

"B-Bye," she managed to stutter.

As he and Michael and the others walked off, Boomer raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you and Ross...?"

"No. At least...not now." Buttercup struggled just to find words. "Not that we ever will. I'm just saying that in the possibility that we do, we're just...not right now."

Boomer held his hand up. "Okay, I'm stopping your train-wreck of a sentence right there." He smiled slightly. "Ross is a nice guy."

"Yeah...yeah, he is." Buttercup glanced at where Ross had gone.

"Let's get to class now," Boomer suggested after a brief moment of silence. He looked slightly amused.

Buttercup felt her cheeks heat up when she realized why Boomer had that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Right," she managed to say.

"Ross will be there too," Boomer continued pointedly.

"I know that." Buttercup started flying, wanting to change the subject from Ross and his dark-brown hair and glowing green eyes.

"I figured you would. You're probably really aware of his presence—"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buttercup shot the blue Ruff a look of disdain.

He smiled slightly, his lip curling upwards. The grin showed satisfaction. "Oh, nothing."

She rolled her eyes and flew faster, leading to Boomer calling out a "hey!" as he attempted to catch up. She didn't slow down until she reached Mr. Evans' classroom.

"Good morning you two," he greeted them, sliding his glasses up his nose. He was wearing a brown-ish sweater vest with a red tie.

"'Morning, Mr. E," Buttercup responded, bursting into class and settling in her seat.

"'Morning," echoed Boomer, taking his own seat.

Ross was already there. He turned to Buttercup and flashed a smile with a wave, before turning back around to talk to Boomer and Mike.

Buttercup, who had waved back, lowered her hand. She glanced at the doorway and watched the students pour in, all of them chatting with one another. Finally, a familiar black-haired boy with forest-green eyes entered the room. He looked slightly...different today, Buttercup noted.

His spiky black hair seemed to be more carefully gelled back than usual, and his clothes hugged his abs tightly. Buttercup was surprised at the muscles that bulged (nottoo much though that it made him look freakishly inhuman—and no she had nothing against people like Arnold Schwarzenegger; they just weren't the kind of people you usually see) underneath his shirt. She knew those muscles were always there, but she'd never paid enough attention to actually see them.

Said "Mr. Muscle" hurried to his desk beside her, a dark-green streak lighting up behind him as he flew.

Buttercup leaned forward, resting her head on her hand. "Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," he responded, setting his bag down.

"...You look different."

He turned to look at her, his jade-green eyes meeting her own lime-green ones. "Thanks?" he managed to say.

"Yeah that was...a compliment. You look...cool." Buttercup was struggling just to fish words out of her brain; let alone say them.

"...Thanks." He sat down, holding his Socials textbook. "I used more gel than usual."

"I noticed," Buttercup replied, grimacing slightly at the remote harshness in her tone. To make up for it, she said, "It's a pretty good look for you, Butch Jojo."

"Well, you don't look half-bad yourself." He gave her a grin, raising a black eyebrow.

Buttercup let out a small smirk. "Right."

"Too cheesy?" he asked.

"More like not cheesy enough," she countered. "'Half-bad', huh? Wonder what I'd look like when I'm 'completely bad'."

"I think I can imagine."

Buttercup hit Butch lightly, rolling her eyes. "Watch your mouth, mister. Your carelessness may just be the death of you."

"Oh, you wouldn't do that to me." Butch let out a small grin of success, leaning forward. He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion. "You like me too much for that."

Buttercup hit him again, unable to believe how many expressions eyebrows could make—and how many of those expressions made her uncomfortable.

"Hey, I was just joking!" he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. "There's no need to be so mean."

"Says the guy who is being so insulting," Buttercup returned, rolling her eyes. Despite this, she smiled.

Butch grinned again. "Alright, fine. I'll give you that."

Before she could push the discussion any further, the bell rang. This signalled the beginning of class and the current end to the two greens' conversation. Buttercup actually felt slightly disappointed when she had to turn away from Butch and listen to the teacher. This surprised her.

Does that mean I actually want to talk to Butch? Do I actually like like him now? Are we patching up our relationship? Is the only reason I look forward to talking with Butch because I have to learn now instead of getting to chat and make jokes?

While she wondered, she decided to settle with the latter two questions rather than the formal. She knew what the actual questions meant, but she had no idea how to answer the first two questions. It gave Buttercup an awkward feeling in her stomach.

The latter two had more clear answers: Yes we are patching it up; slowly but surely; step-by-step and over time. As for learning vs chatting, that's probably true. That's probably the only reason I felt weird when I had to stop talking to Butch. I was probably just un-eager to have to learn—which I'm still not excited about. Talking to Butch just seems more appealing, no matter how mad I am at him or how mad he is at me.

Trying to reassure herself that this was the case, Buttercup glanced back at Butch. He nodded and offered a little wave when they met eyes. Buttercup waved back sheepishly, embarrassed to have been caught looking at him.

Up front, Mr. Evans was talking about the day's lessons. He pointed and asked, explained and answered. The class wore on for about twenty minutes before he announced that students could work on their projects.

Scooting her chair closer to Butch, Buttercup pulled out the model in her backpack. "We're getting there," she said proudly, admiring their handiwork.

"I'm surprised at how hard we're working on this project," Butch agreed, "or I mean me, at least. Sometimes I just half-ass it and Bandit or Brick—" Stopping himself, the green Ruff didn't finish his sentence.

Buttercup sensed the sudden sadness lingering in the air. Trying not to suffocate as she remembered Brick's condition, Buttercup gently prodded the subject in a different direction. "Detention sure is going to be interesting."

"Ha; yeah—Mr. Fickleson is such a creep," Butch agreed. His voice still sounded weak, but it was clear he was trying to get it to be stable.

"He's definitely something," added Buttercup, rolling her eyes. Imitating his voice, she waved her finger in Butch's face. "No chewing anything, especially not chewing out students unless it's me doing the chewing out! No smiles or words or voices or phones. No doodles or witty remarks. No wearing clothes that reveal any skin—not even the shoulders, arms, or legs. No fun."

Butch laughed. "Such a man is truly hard to come by."

"Definitely a work of art," Buttercup teased back, her voice exaggeratedly admiring.

"He's a piece of work, alright. There's practically no way to get on his good side."

"Well, Ms. Perfect Blossom Utonium has managed to get into his good graces," Buttercup said ruefully.

"So has Brick, though his position is unstable with the creepy old man. Now his position is deteriorating a little because he's—" Butch cut himself off again.

Buttercup sighed inwardly. "Hey, do you have a glue stick I could borrow?" she asked, giving up on trying to find a subject that wouldn't rotate back to Brick. Even talking about crabby Mr. Fickleson led back to Brick, for God's sake! Buttercup couldn't help but think this with a pang of pain.

Butch silently passed her the item, his gaze absent.

It was nearly lunchtime when Buttercup received the text from Blossom. It reminded her that she wanted to visit Brick again today, and BC agreed. Blossom had double-checked with Bandit this time, but he had been reluctant to agree.

In fact, his answer was still unconfirmed.

Buttercup glanced at the clock on the wall. The rest of Socials class had been spent with her and Butch chatting, trying to regain a middle ground of "yeah we're friends again". Despite their easy early exchange, it wasn't that easy all the way through the class, since mixed feelings were brewing beneath calm exteriors. After falling silent over Brick, Butch had finally addressed the issue at hand. So he spoke about his unconscious brother on purpose, adding that he had been a little miffed about Buttercup's breaking and entering Brick's room with Blossom, along with lying to him. She in turn had pointed out that he wouldn't have let her see Brick if he'd known what she and Blossom were planning.

Buttercup let her head fall on her desk, her eyes drooping shut. She tried to stay awake, but the tantalizing feel of sleep was calling to her. The voices of her classmates seemed to mix completely into one...

Soon, Buttercup could feel someone prodding her shoulder. "Huh?" she murmured, blinking sleepily as she sat up.

"The teacher," hissed Robin from beside her friend, her blue eyes glued to the front of the class. "She almost caught you."

"Oops." Buttercup managed to smile sheepishly as she rubbed her eyes. "Thanks, Rob. Sorry about that—I'm just really tired."

Robin stretched and yawned. "Don't remind me... I am too, y'know."

But not thanks to the same reasons as me, Buttercup said silently, though she kept her mouth shut in reality.

Not noticing her friend's uncomfortable silence, Robin checked her watch. "Class is ending in a few minutes. Then it'll be time to go home!"

"Yeah, home." Buttercup tried to sound cheerful, but her tone felt off.

"What's wrong?" This time Robin noticed.

"Well...you know; I have detention," Buttercup mumbled as an excuse. "Sooo not excited for Mr. Fickleson." It's half the truth anyway.

"At least you have Butch to keep you company." Robin smiled mischievously, her lips curling upwards.

Rolling her eyes, Buttercup shoved her friend lightly. "Like that makes it much better."

"What are you doing after detention then? No dates of any kind? If not Butch, Ross seems to—"

"No way," Buttercup shot back quickly, a little too fast. She paused when Robin gave her an incredulous look. "I mean...not like that."

"...If you say so." Robin smiled again. She smoothed out her pink-red sweater, tracing the black patterns on the cuffs of her sleeves. She had it along her chest too, pairing it with black tights, boots, and a green beret. The current teacher was allowing her to wear the hat.

The thought of hats being allowed sent Buttercup's mind back to Brick. He usually got to wear his hats because he was a hero of the city; a Rowdyruff Boy. Buttercup still had memories of when the Ruffs had been villains, but they had for some reason had a change of heart. They started being better, although it was a slow process. None of the Puffs were too quick to accept the new Ruffs (though Bunny, Bliss, and Bubbles had been a little more willing).

Back then, Buttercup only had a festering dislike for the Rowdyruffs, but now she felt differently. They were her friends; almost a second family. The blow of knowing that Brick was out of commission was a blow as if her own family member was unconscious.

Even though her phone had yet to notify her, Buttercup checked her text messages again. There was nothing new. No text from Blossom; no text to explain if Bandit was going to let them come visit Brick again. It made Buttercup a little annoyed, that after a deep conversation with Bandit about leadership, he was still maybe going to deny their visit.

But her annoyance was hiding a different emotion; one that was slightly less familiar: concern. Buttercup wondered if Bandit's sudden hesitation to reveal anything about Brick again meant that something had once again happened. And it could either be really bad or really good. Buttercup prayed for the latter, but she didn't know what was going to happen.

RIIING!

Saying goodbye to Robin, Buttercup quickly packed her things and hurried for the door. The mind of going over her plans with Blossom lingered in her mind. So Buttercup headed for Blossom's locker.

Sure enough, the redheaded leader was gently organizing her books, sorting them carefully. Blossom seemed to have recovered slightly over the school day; the pink Puff would never let her personal matters get in the way of her progress at school.

"Blossom," Buttercup greeted, leaning against someone else's locker. Her eyes studied her sister's too-calm-too-blank gaze, searching for a sign of emotion.

Blossom turned slowly, blinking. "Hello."

"How's it going?" asked BC, floating upward slightly. She wanted to soar in the sky and forget all her troubles, if only for awhile.

"...Fine." Blossom turned away, keeping her eye on her books as she tentatively removed her Math textbook.

"Well, about our plans..."

"They're still happening," Blossom sighed, closing her eyes and running a hand through her silky red hair.

"Has Bandit said anything?" pressed Buttercup, relieved that her sister was finally addressing the issue.

Blossom froze, her hand just about to put away a novel. "He's said nothing; just asked us to be there in the cafeteria."

"Oh...alright then." Buttercup watched Blossom return to her organizing routine, noting that the locker was already clean. And yet Blossom seemed intent on constantly rearranging the items within. "Are you...okay?" she finally said.

Finally snapping, Blossom spun around. Her glare spoke volumes, boring through Buttercup's skin. Too bad her shouting spoke volumes too. "Do I look okay!?" she demanded, losing her cool as her fiery temper flared. "Do you really expect me to be okay during such a time!?"

"Blossom, calm down—people are staring," Buttercup tried to say. Why does everyone around me have to constantly have breakdowns!? First Butch, now Blossom... Buttercup groaned silently.

"I don't care if people are staring! Let them stare! I—" Blossom's voice was rising with each word, until she almost hit shouting volume. Before she could, however, a gentle hand appeared on her shoulder.

"Blossom, are you okay? Take a deep breath and try to calm down. Now's not a good time, nor is it the place to be making a scene. I want you to feel happy, not sad."

Blinking hard, Blossom turned slightly to see Vincent's calm, warm green gaze. His tone was almost as gentle as his eyes, concern shining within the green pupils. Blossom sniffled, and Buttercup was surprised to see tears appearing on her sister's face.

Buttercup wasn't used to Blossom crying. Blossom was the leader; she didn't usually cry. She usually held her head high and continued on with life despite the hardships. Blossom wasn't a quitter; she was a winner—she wasn't a whiner; she was a doer. And seeing the leader crying made Buttercup's heart sink a little. If Blossom can't be strong, then who can?

Vincent was still speaking, his voice soothing. "What's wrong, Blossom? You can let me know. I'll protect you."

Blossom swallowed hard. Buttercup was worried she'd actually tell Vincent, or maybe snap at him, but instead her sister calmed down slightly. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice shaky. "I made a scene."

"It's okay." Vincent's gaze didn't waver. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it...it's fine now. Thank you, Vincent. I was just worried about Brick's well-being, considering how long he's been sick."

Vincent's look showed that he knew he was being denied the truth. However, he didn't sound angry about it. "That's fine. He must be pretty bad if you're so worried. I'm sure he'll feel better soon though."

Looking relieved, Blossom nodded. "Thank you." She paused, hesitating, before reaching forward and giving the male a quick hug. When she pulled back, she added, "Like...really thank you. For everything."

His surprised expression evaporated into a warm smile. "No problem." He started to walk away, before he stopped and glanced back at the two Powerpuff Girls. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yes?" Blossom looked up, embarrassed and red-faced thanks to hugging Vincent.

"...When and if you're ever ready to trust me enough and tell the whole story, I'll be here. I'll be there for you." Then he disappeared among the throng of students.

Blossom stared after him, clearly surprised by his remark.

"Bloss... Let's go," Buttercup said softly. Blossom nodded and flew to the cafeteria, but her mind seemed distracted again. This time by a different boy.

Sighing, Buttercup looked back one last time at where Vincent had been. Then she turned away and followed Blossom.

Dialling a number, the teenage boy sighed and closed his eyes as he ran a hand through his long hair. The phone connected as his thoughts swirled.

When the other person picked up, he opened his eyes. "Hey."

"Hello," the person on the other line greeted. Their tone was grim.

"How is it going?" The boy stared at the wall, trying to piece things together within his mind.

"It's not terrible, but it's pretty bad. There's no signs of knowledge of the past."

"Shit," cursed the teenager, his eyes shutting again. "This fucking blows."

"You're the one who told the others to 'buck up'," his companion reminded. "I'd suggest that here as well."

"I know, but how do you think they'll react when they learn of this development? It's messed up."

The other person's tone was dry as they said, "At least it gives you guys motivation to stay safe."

"Or be reckless and get revenge," he muttered back.

"...True. But there's not much more we can do about this. We can only wait it out and see what happens."

"Well, now what? This can't stay hidden forever."

Silence on the other end. Then: "If we really want this to work, we need him out of the house and with you. We'll send him over in about ten min—"

"Sounds like a bad idea," he countered.

"It's the best way to help recovery—he'll need the experience."

"He's had this experience before."

"But now he's different. This is all unfamiliar now."

The boy paused, gritting his teeth as he held back a frustrated howl. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: this fucking blows."

The reply he got was a sigh. "Things just turned out this way. This sudden change of events was beyond our control. The best we can do is try and fix this."

"Not as easy as it sounds."

"Not like you have any other options."

His frustration was reaching boiling point. "Okay, thanks for the info. I'll talk to you later."

"Blow off some steam," the other person suggested, "before you explode and throw a temper tantrum."

"I'm not going to throw a temper tantrum!" he snapped, smashing his thumb against the "hang up" button. When the call ended, he collapsed against a wall. His eyes shut as he forced his breathing to slow down. He knew it was immature of him to hang up like that; perhaps his companion had been right...

I probably do need to blow off some steam. And fast. Before I really do go ka-boom. I already threw a hissy fit thanks to this call; I don't want it to get worse.

Rubbing his temples, he tried to ignore the aching headache that pounded within his skull. Thoughts swam through his brain, all of them mixed up and jumbled. His mind was so cluttered he couldn't think clearly, and it angered him. Then his anger made the clutter even worse. This cycle was repeated over and over again.

He let out a groan, grumbling to himself as he moved on to rubbing his eyes. He was tired and all he wanted to do was sleep, but now he had a certain delivery to pick up.

Trying not to break, he got up from leaning against the wall and forced his eyes open. He needed gallons of coffee if he wanted to live through the day. And something to take his anger out on. He walked on, reminding himself to put one foot forward each time. He counted his steps, blocking out the noises around him.

Before he had hit thirty paces, someone called for him. The noise was faint, and the person had to call nearly three more times before he responded. Turning, he blinked his tired eyes as he met gazes with two girls.

"Jesus, I was calling for you!" one of them said, out of breath. It looked like she had been hurrying to keep up with him.

"Sorry," he muttered back, still too tired to express much of another emotion.

She gave him a skeptical look. "Wow, you're cheerful."

"BC, don't," the other girl finally said, her tone soft but firm. "He's had a lot to deal with lately."

Nodding thankfully, he pinched the bridge of his nose briefly as he thought. "Thanks, Blossom."

"It's fine. But umm..." She blushed, hesitating. She suddenly looked shy and awkward, clearly unsure if it was a good time.

"Nothing awful has happened, if that's what you're wondering." He let out a sigh.

"Oh, thank goodness." Blossom's pink gaze brightened just slightly. "Is he...?"

"Yes. Yes, he is awake now." He blinked hard, eyes glancing at the wall.

"So what's making you so upset?" BC cut in.

"Buttercup—" started Blossom, her relieved expression turning into a frown, but she didn't finish.

"I think you guys should come with me," he said, already walking again.

"Hey, wait; why's that?" asked Buttercup.

"I have something to show you." He quickened his pace. "You'll see what it is soon."

Buttercup and Blossom exchanged concerned glances before following him. He led them all the way across the long hallway to a familiar room, his heart beating faster as they got closer.

"The office?" said Buttercup, clearly confused. "What are we going there for?"

"You'll see," he repeated. He saw her roll her eyes, but he didn't reveal any more than that. Blossom was silent on the other hand, clearly contemplating the situation.

When they reached the office, he swung the door open and let the ladies walk in first. Then he sat down with them in the chairs that lined the wall.

"What are we waiting for?" Buttercup inquired, looking impatient.

"We only need to wait for another four or five minutes," he replied, still being vague.

Huffing in annoyance, Buttercup turned away. Blossom studied the walls and the floor and her feet and her nails as she waited. Buttercup fidgeted a lot. He closed his eyes and tried to rest.

He was just about drifting off into sleep when Buttercup let out a surprised noise. His eyelids fluttered open as he turned to the office door, spying two familiar figures enter. Behind them followed a quiet third figure.

The lady behind the desk looked up, eyes widening when she saw the two people at the front. "H-Hello," she stammered in surprise at the two important people before her.

"Good afternoon," one of them said, "we are here to let you know that a formerly sick student is now back in class."

"He's returned to good health then?" she said, typing things into the computer in front of her.

"...Yes." There was a slight form of hesitation in the first speaker's voice, but it was slight and barely noticeable.

"Alright. We'll let his teachers know," she promised.

"Thank you," the male stated. He turned to the figure behind him. "Go sit with them," he commanded, pointing at the trio watching the scene from their chairs. "We have to go."

"Got it." The figure turned and walked over to the trio, sitting down.

The second man followed the boy to the chairs. "Don't overwork yourself, okay?" he cooed. He turned to the teenage boy already with Blossom and Buttercup. "Be careful, Bandit. Call us if there's any problems. Don't forget the phone conversation we had a few minutes ago, dear. Mojo and I have work to attend to, so you're on your own."

"We'll be fine," Bandit muttered. Blossom and Buttercup exchanged confused glances. It was clear neither of them knew why Him and Mojo were making such a big deal about the boy's well-being.

"Goodbye," Mojo said, already walking out the door. "Hurry up, Him."

"See you later," the newcomer called back. Blossom, Buttercup, and Bandit also waved bye. Bandit promised Him that he'd be careful, and the red demon left, satisfied.

Blossom turned to the newcomer. "Jeez, you had me worried sick," she scolded, her tone stern—despite that, her eyes expressed concern. "I thought you'd be out of it forever—"

The boy seemed confused. "Why are you talking to me?"

Looking hurt, Blossom blinked. "I-I just wanted to tell you that—"

"Dude, if you're still mad at her, I just wanted to say that it so wasn't her fault," Buttercup butted in.

"Guys, what the hell are you talking about?" Glancing at the confused newcomer, Bandit let out a disgruntled sigh as he turned back to the two Puffs. "You've totally lost him."

"Well, Blossom—or me using Bloss' phone—accidentally texted him this bad text when I was trying to show her what not to text because they were arguing so the text led to them fighting even more and he wouldn't speak to her and—" Buttercup tried to explain quickly, but Bandit interrupted.

"Okay, forget it. Even I'm already lost." His gaze flickered back to the still-confused boy. "We shouldn't talk about this here."

"Why not? Stop acting so weird. You're acting paranoid and suspicious all in one," Buttercup retorted.

"I'm not being weird," Bandit shot back defensively. He turned to the boy.

The boy frowned, his gaze flickering to the clock on the wall. "Who are you two?"

Blossom looked shocked as Buttercup's mouth fell open. "Even if you're mad, you can't pretend you don't know—!" Buttercup started, but Bandit cut her off. He directed his words toward the confused boy:

"They're our friends, Brick."

Brick turned to the two Puffs, smiling slightly. "Hi; nice to meet you, friends."

Buttercup felt her shock still tingling. "What...? Why is he...?" She trailed off.

Blossom was taking it even worse. Her eyes were wide and she couldn't speak.

Bandit groaned lowly. "I have some explaining to do, don't I?"

"Yes you do. Now." Buttercup turned to Bandit, her green eyes flashing.

Sighing, Bandit leaned against the wall in his seat. "...While it's true that Brick's woken up, there's a slight problem."

Staring at him, Blossom had a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach as realization hit her. "Oh no..." she whispered.

Bandit closed his eyes. "That's right, Blossom. I see you've figured it out."

"What?" demanded Buttercup, still clueless. "What's wrong with Brick?"

"Brick has amnesia."

ME: Dun dun dunnnnn! *dramatic piano plays in background*

BANANA: *jumps* Where did that come from?

ME: I honestly don't know. *looks around*

BANDIT: *waves hand from piano* I thought it would be a nice effect. Besides, it's always good to practice.

BRICK: ...Show-off.

BUTCH: Says you! You're totally taking center stage of my story.

BRICK: I have frickin' amnesia! Does that sound nice to you!? I didn't ask for any focus on me!

ME: Butch can't have amnesia because he's a key part of the story along with BC. And since amnesia is only a subplot, Brick gets it.

BRICK: Oh, so since I'm a secondary character I get the short end of the stick!?

ME: *defensively* No, you just get an interesting subplot. I did this to the greens in "Hung Up on You", and even to the reds. Oh, don't give me that look—the blues will get some focus as well.

BANDIT: Leave your reviews behind, readers—let us know what you make of this development! And let's wish Brick a speedy recovery, shall we?

BRICK: You sound like you don't give a shit.

BANDIT: Hey, it's just a story. You're okay right now, aren't you?

ME: Anyway, we'll also see Vix and Damon visit the city next chapter. That's so going to go well.