CHAPTER 31: WHEN WOLVES COME KNOCKING
ME: Merry (early) Christmas! And a happy New Year! Happy Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or whatever it is that you celebrate!
BRICK: Oh God. You sound happy. That can't be a good thing.
ME: It's better than being depressed, which is exactly what this chapter is like.
BRICK: . . .
ME: Enjoy, everyone! Stuff your faces, give and get tons of presents, spend time with your friends and family, party, relax, etc! Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas before 2014 ends and 2015 rolls in!
BOOMER: Don't forget to review! It'll be your good deed of the day~
Chapter 31: When Wolves Come Knocking
Damon bit his lip in pain as he held his bleeding leg, staring up at the man looming over him. The man he knew. The man he once called a friend. The man who was now pointing a gun at his head. "Danes," he greeted raggedly.
"Yes, Damon. And it seems like you couldn't stay hidden forever." Danes slipped the gun into its holster on his belt. His eyes were steely cold. "You coward. Did you really think you could run away and hide as if you haven't done anything wrong?"
"No, that's not how it is! I just... I didn't want—"
"Didn't want what?" sneered Danes. "You were being selfish, that's all. Your mistakes have cost many people their futures. You're pathetic."
"If you'd only listen to me, please—" Damon tried.
Danes turned away. "I don't want to listen to any more of your lies." His face darkened. "I came here to bring you to justice, not talk about the past over tea. We found you because Shamus spotted you at a bus stop in the city*. He was amazed you ever bothered to show your face in the streets of the city again."
"I went there for special reasons," Damon said quietly, looking away.
"If you have time to enjoy yourself, then you wouldn't mind me taking some of your time away." Danes' expression hardened. "Shamus saw you with a boy. I want to know about this boy. Shamus wasn't sure it was you, because since when did you have a kid in your care? Still, we tracked you down. Tell me; did you kidnap that child?"
Damon didn't answer.
Danes spun around to glare at Damon. "Oh, so now you don't reply? What happened to 'listen to me' and 'I'll tell you everything'!?"
Looking away, Damon's voice dropped to a whisper. "Let's not talk about the boy."
Scoffing, Danes looked away again. He couldn't stand looking at Damon's face anymore; not without wanting to punch it. "Fine. Let's talk about something else then. Like the fact that you need to be brought to justice. I intend to take everything from you and throw you into the dungeon you deserve to rot in. The boy is the first step to taking what's yours away from you." Danes paused, before saying icily, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I talk about the boy again? Oops."
"Danes, please... Please, don't do this..."
Danes twitched angrily as he heard Damon's pleading voice. Pathetic, the man thought to himself.
"I didn't... I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Tyrone—I didn't—"
Suddenly, Danes spun around to glare at Damon, giving up on ignoring the man he now hated. "Didn't what? Kill my friend? Your best friend? The father of a boy? You were my friend, Damon!"
Damon was struggling just to even raise his head. His leg was bleeding rapidly from Danes' gunshot, and he was sprawled out on the floor. "No... That's not what happened!"
"As if I believe you. You've lied to me enough already." Danes yanked Damon's head upwards by grabbing a fistful of the man's hair. Damon let out a sharp gasp of pain as Danes continued speaking slowly, venom dripping from his tone. If the venom had been real, Damon would have already been dead. "You destroyed the peace by killing Tyrone. The sides have begun feuding again, and I have risen as leader of my side. You've changed Shamus and I. Shamus no longer smiles. I no longer enjoy myself. You know what you did. After you killed Tyrone, you ran away like the coward that you are."
"Danes, please! If you would just look in my study—"
"Shut up!" screamed Danes, his eyes flashing. "Will you just shut up!? I've had it! Damon, I hate you! I hate you for what you've done, but what's worse is that I hate you for how you manipulated all of us! You destroyed everything, and for what? A dead girl!"
"I'd never kill Tyrone for Sylvie!" Damon was struggling to speak.
Danes let out a snarl as he released Damon's hair and dropped the man. His face hit the floor hard. Danes then thrust his foot into Damon's face. The man was sent flying into a bookshelf, spluttering. "What did I say about shutting up!?"
Damon let out a low groan of pain as he curled up, trying to pull himself up. His bleeding leg wasn't helping, and now his nose was bleeding too.
Danes took a step forward, his anger boiling over. A small part of him didn't want to hurt Damon, but after everything, Danes decided that Damon didn't deserve his sympathy. Not anymore. "Stay down." He turned around. "Maxim!" he shouted.
A man appeared, eyes wide. "Sir yes sir?"
"Find the boy."
"No!" Damon finally managed to get up, his leg shaking.
"If you care at all about this boy, then you will stay down."
Helplessly, Damon watched as Maxim ripped open drawers and shelves. A young boy tumbled out of the drawer beneath a sink, his free eye wide. The other was hidden behind an eyepatch. Maxim victoriously held the boy up.
Damon's eyes suddenly got a wild look within them. "Don't hurt him, please!" he begged. "Don't hurt the boy. He has nothing to do with this."
"Let me go!" the boy cried, hitting Maxim. Tears were in his eyes. "You let Dad go too!"
Danes glared at Damon. "He's calling you 'dad' now? Does he even know what you've done?" he spat.
"I saved him from a car crash. He's just a boy. Don't get him caught up in this. Please... It's me you want...!"
"Will you stop rambling?" Danes walked over to Damon. "You pathetic liar. You didn't give a fucking shit when you killed Ross' father. Ross was also just a young boy! Even younger than this one. The boy was so young; so traumatized!" He spun around and whipped out his gun, pointing it at the boy. The boy let out a cry of fear, his visible eye widening even more.
Damon let out a half-choked sob. "Danes, don't do this..."
"Don't do what you've done before?" Danes kept the gun trained on the boy, his hand shaking just slightly. "Tell me, Damon. Did you ever feel remorse for what you did?"
"It wasn't my intention to—"
"You liar!" shouted Danes. He pulled the trigger and a bullet was fired. It missed the boy by inches. "Lie again and I shoot the boy. Tell him, Damon. Tell him the truth. Tell him what you've done."
"What is this man talking about?" the boy whispered, staring from the gun to Damon. "Damon... Dad... I'm scared."
Damon's eyes were watering, the tears mixing with the blood on his face. His hair was now stringy and messy, stuck to his grubby face. He had gone from a respectable man to a train wreck in a matter of a few minutes. "You wouldn't do this..."
"I'll kill the boy if it means bringing justice to you."
"Tyrone; he wouldn't want this—"
"Are you in any place to talk back to me!? Just tell the boy what's really going on!" Danes yelled. "Tyrone is dead! I will shoot this boy if you won't speak the truth!"
Damon looked up and met eyes with his "son". "I'm so sorry," he began in a low whisper. "I...I killed a man one night. His name was Tyrone. Then I fled here."
"No... No! You're not that kind of—!" cried the boy.
"Enough!" yelled Danes. He lowered his gun and spun around to Damon. "Tell me, Damon. What's this boy's name?"
"His name... His name is Vix," gasped Damon, almost unable to speak.
Danes smirked. "Thank you. I'll be taking Vix into my custody now." When he saw Damon's wild look, he continued in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Don't worry, my old friend, I'll take good care of the boy. He's mine now."
"Danes... You wouldn't do this."
"Oh, I would." Danes stood up and shot Damon's other leg to keep him down. He started storming away, toward the boy. Young Vix was glaring at him, still struggling against Maxim and snarling. "How cute," Danes said. "Did you give him the same powers you have, Damon?"
"It was the only way he'd survive! I saved him from a car crash. Please... I love that boy like a son. Don't take him away from me."
Danes gripped Vix's face, taking off the eyepatch. He was met with a white eye turning green, but it was too late. He'd already seen the magic. He faced Damon. "You even gave him the powers of the Eye?"
"I had to save his life; please don't hurt him," begged Damon, scrabbling at the floor.
When Danes spoke next, his voice was slow and steely. "If you care about this boy so much, you'll know that I'll take good care of him. I don't go back on my word. I'll spare his life if you stop your nonsense and give yourself up. Stop running and face your charges, Damon."
Damon stopped pulling himself along the floor. "...Very well," he choked.
"No! No!" screamed Vix. "Dad!"
"Danes... At least let me give him his birthday present. You'll salvage his other presents for him, won't you?" Damon asked.
"...I will." Danes' cold gray eyes remained emotionless. "Servants!"
Danes' henchmen scavenged the presents and quickly left, not wanting to face Danes' fury.
Damon turned back to Vix. "Vix, I have something to give you. I wanted to keep this gift a surprise..." He struggled to reach into his pocket and pulled out a few sheets of paper. "Here's your present, Vixy. I'm sorry I couldn't wrap it for you."
Vix was sobbing as Danes ripped the pages from Damon's hands and thrust it into the boy's. "Please, Damon... I've already lost my first parents. I-I don't want to lose you too...!" Vix was near hysterics.
"I'm sorry, Vix. I'm sorry the past had to catch up with me like this. I never wanted to get you involved." Damon watched Vix be taken away as tears streaked his grimy face. "Happy birthday, Vix. I...I love you, my son."
"I-I love you too, Dad," sobbed Vix as Maxim dragged him away. He was sobbing and screaming, kicking as he shouted for his "father".
Danes turned back to Damon again. "Do you regret your actions?"
"...Yes. But someday you'll see more of the past and realize that—"
"Shut up! I don't want to listen to a whole lie of a speech." Danes stomped down on Damon's hand, breaking a few bones. Then he kicked Damon one last time. "Shut up and stay down!" he yelled.
"Danes, I am proud to have been able to call you my friend. And I'm sorry. For everything. I still miss having you guys around," Damon said softly as he dragged himself toward Danes, both of his legs bleeding rapidly.
Danes paused, feeling something within him twist and turn. His throat tightened as he forced out, "...You should've thought of that before you killed Tyrone. I'll miss you, but only the old you. The one who was a good, decent human being. As for this you, I never want to see you again. Stay away from my people. Understood?"
"...I understand." Damon stopped pulling himself along the floor. "Take care of Vix for me."
"I will, but not for you. For the boy himself." Danes kept his eyes trained on the wall.
"I really do miss the past," Damon continued quietly.
"It's too late for that."
"I'm sorry, Danes."
"It's too late for that!" Danes gritted his teeth. "I'll miss only the old you. That is the only amount of sympathy you pathetic excuse for a human being will ever get from me. Goodbye, Damon."
"Goodbye, Danes."
The door slammed behind Danes as he exited the cabin. He joined Maxim and Vix outside.
Vix was still crying as Danes turned away from the wretched cabin. "Let's go." Suddenly, the small house was engulfed in flames. Danes spun around and watched the cabin burn in shock; he hadn't planned this. "Who dropped a lantern!?" he demanded.
Maxim shook his head wildly in fear. He'd never seen Danes this angry. "I-I don't know, Sir."
Danes let out a snarl as he watched the hissing flames spread. He had wanted Damon brought to justice, but burning him was a little excessive. He looked down at Vix, who had stopped crying and was now staring at the burning home with horror in his eyes. Vix turned to glare at Danes. "I hate you," the boy whispered scratchily. "You did this. You killed my second father."
Danes straightened his shoulders. "Don't forget that he killed his former best friend first."
As Vix tried to lunge at Danes, the man held up a glowing golden-white artifact. As if struck, Vix let out a cry, fell back, and collapsed against Maxim's hold. "What...What did you do?" stuttered Maxim.
"I have something that counters the magical eye Damon installed in Vix," Danes began. "It'll let me keep this boy under control."
"Don't say his name! You didn't know him like I did!" shouted Vix. He let out another pain-filled cry as the artifact in Danes' hand flashed again.
"Oh, I think I did." Danes grabbed Vix by the throat, tilting his head up. "Damon was my friend once, before he killed Tyrone. Do you not realize how big of a crime that is? Why do you think I hate him so much now? He got what he deserved: justice. He was a low-life, a worthless piece of lying scum. Don't you see? I saved you from a murderer.
"You work for me now, boy." Danes bent down so that he met Vix's gaze, which was struggling to stay open as tears pooled from his eyes again. Sweat dotted Vix's face as he was clearly in pain—the artifact's power was really hurting him. "Damon is gone, although I didn't plan for it to go like this. I'm sorry; I didn't want this, but at the same time I'm not sorry because of how terrible of a person Damon was.
"Happy birthday, by the way."
And from farther away in the forest, a group of six boys saw something sizzling. They were the Rowdyruffs, and the fire was the sight they saw that night. They had arrived in the forest with Vix's presents, and all they could see was a cabin engulfed in fire. When they finally had flown over to the cabin and stopped the fire, the whole place was charred black. They had luckily stopped it before anything was too destroyed though.
That night; on Vix's birthday; December, Friday the 13th; Damon and Vix were both presumed to be dead.
Until recently.
"What's the so-called 'heavy shit' you found?" asked Braker, making his way toward Butch. He looked curious.
Butch drew in a sharp breath as he opened the box again and showed his brothers the contents. The box contained photos and notes inside of it. "It looks like a music box," he explained. Butch cranked up the knob on the side, gently turning it for only a short period of time so that the song it played wouldn't go on for too long and attract the guards.
Suddenly, a soft melody filled the air, drifting lightly on the breeze. It sounded mystical and magical, as well as very soothing. Each of the Ruffs relaxed and even smiled, but snapped out of it as soon as the song ended.
"What's inside?" Bandit inquired, already trying to look inside the music box.
"There's two pictures of everyone together on the inside of the lid." Butch held it up. Beside the mirror on the lid's inside were two small pictures. One had Damon with Tyrone, Sylvie, and their friends; the other had Damon with the Ruffs and Vix.
"Is that a baby Ross?" Boomer pointed at the bundle in Sylvie's arms.
"It must be," Butch answered. He reached into the box and held up another picture. "Here's one of Sylvie. And there's notes in here too. Maybe there's some journal pages inside."
Bandit took a sheet and read it over. The scrawled handwriting was faded and old. "It looks like a poem," he said, surprised.
"Read it! Let's see his poetic talent," Braker suggested.
Blaster frowned. "I don't know..."
"It's research," Braker told his yellow-eyed brother. "Besides, we need to have evidence that Damon is innocent."
"Braker's right; we should read it anyway—even if we are invading Damon's privacy," Bandit sighed. He held the piece of paper up and started reading:
"'Something about you makes my day bright,
Yet you still put my heart at stake.
Let me hold you oh so close tonight,
Visions of you always keep me awake.
I feel my poor heart burn,
Each hour without you makes my stomach churn.
I can't keep acting and pretending,
Let me know please if you care.
Open your heart to me and tell me everything,
Vacant holes in my heart aren't fair,
Especially when I love you so.
You must promise not to let me go.
Oh please don't let me fall,
Ultimate love shall conquer all.'"
"That was romantic," Braker commented after Bandit was done.
Bandit scanned the page once again. "Now try reading it with only the first letters of each line."
Braker leaned forward and he did as he was told. His eyes widened. "Oh."
Bandit nodded. He cleared his throat and read again: "'S-Y-L-V-I-E I L-O-V-E Y-O-U'."
"That spells...oh." Boomer didn't have to finish. All of the Ruffs realized what it meant.
"I wonder if there's anything else inside the box," Blaster remarked.
"There's lots," Butch answered. Before he could pull another item out, Bandit felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
Bandit answered. "Hello, Mojo?" A pause. "What? No..." Another pause. "Okay. Got it. I'll be there soon—thanks." Then Bandit sighed as he hung up. "We need to wrap it up and quick."
"Why?" asked Boomer. "We still have things to—"
"Brick's in trouble, okay? We'll come back another time. Let's go home," Bandit shot back.
Boomer's expression turned troubled immediately. "...Okay," he agreed quietly. He crossed the room and was about to open the bookcase door when all of a sudden, Danes' voice appeared.
"Alright, everyone. I guess we should call it a day," the man was saying gruffly. "Come inside so you can review your jobs for tomorrow."
"Oh no," hissed Bandit, "they're all entering the cabin! Who knows how long they'll be in here!?"
"We can just take the window then," Butch answered, grasping the windowsill. The shattered glass shimmered back at him.
"That's dangerous," Bandit countered, his eyes running over every sharp piece of glass still attached to the window. The curtains were old and full of holes.
Butch rolled his eyes. "It's our best option," he reminded Bandit. "Would you rather be stuck here?"
Bandit thought it over before sighing. "Okay, fine," he stated, caving in. "Just be careful."
Letting out a small, victorious cheer, Butch held tight onto the music box as he clambered out of the window. It was a tight squeeze, making it hard to avoid the glass, but he made it out safely. One-by-one, the others followed suit.
Blaster was the last one out. He gently pushed himself to the ground, but then he let out a small "ow!" He lifted his sweater just slightly and revealed a long gash along his side. It was bleeding.
The door to the cabin opened almost immediately. A guard's voice sounded: "Did you all smell or hear that?"
"Feels fresh," another one agreed.
"Quick, hide!" Bandit whisper-shouted in panic. He quickly took to the air and landed gently on the roof. The others joined him. Two confused guards looked around below them. Bandit turned to Blaster and frowned; the yellow Ruff looked like he was ready to panic. Bandit ripped a small strip of bandaging from his arm. "I put it on in case of situations like this," he explained quietly. He applied some medicine before wrapping the bandage around Blaster's waist.
The guards below seemed to lose sense of where the intruders had escaped to, so they headed back inside. Bandit listened and heard them lie to Danes by telling him it was just a squirrel. They clearly didn't want to get in trouble for letting an intruder of any kind get away.
The Ruffs shared knowing looks and nodded before flying off. Butch held into the music box like his life depended on it. Boomer hugged the papers in his folder close. Bandit looked back at the cabin one last time before it vanished beyond the horizon.
When they got back home, the sun was up high in the sky. Their little search had taken them a few hours, so it was now early in the morning. Butch felt as though every fibre of his being was tired. I woke up at 4:00 am for this search! 4 fucking am! Butch groaned silently. Butch landed first and immediately unlocked the door. "I'm home!" he hollered, stepping into his house.
A pain-filled wail answered him.
Butch's eyes widened. "Brick!" he gasped, running toward the noise. He skidded to a stop in front of Mojo's lab door, which was ajar. Butch could hear pain-filled wheezing coming from within. He dashed down the stairs. "What are you doing to Brick!?"
Mojo looked up at the angry Butch coming straight for him. The mutant ape immediately dodged to the side as Butch smashed right into the wall. Before Butch could get up, Mojo answered, "We have not done anything to poor Brick; absolutely nothing at all."
"Then why's he like that!?" shouted Butch, pointing at his brother.
Brick was crouched on the floor, letting out cries as he grabbed his head. He was panting, having trouble breathing. When Butch shouted, his cries rose.
"Butch, stop. Listen to me. You need to calm down," Him ordered. "Brick's extremely sensitive to noise right now, and you're not helping."
Butch glanced at Brick, before calming down. His shoulders sank. "Brick," he said quietly, walking toward the red Ruff.
Brick let out a low moan of pain.
"It's going to be okay," Butch continued softly, crouching down beside Brick. He gently placed his hand on Brick's head.
Suddenly, Brick let out a scream before collapsing onto the ground, unconscious. Butch stood up, staring down at Brick's fallen body. Then he looked away.
Bandit burst into the room just then. "What's going on!?" he demanded.
"It looks like we have some explaining, as in telling you about the current issue or problem at hand, to do," Mojo began, turning to something behind him. "Don't we, Professor?"
Bandit looked up as the man Mojo was addressing appeared before the Ruffs, who were just entering the lab. "Professor!" he gasped.
"Hello, Bandit; Butch. Mojo's right; there's something I need to tell you," the Professor said, a solemn expression on his face. He seemed worried.
"What's wrong with Brick?" Butch asked quietly, his eyes dark.
The Professor cleared his throat and looked down at his clipboard. "Well... How do I put this gently..."
"How do you put what gently!?" demanded Butch.
The Professor sighed, his eyes closing as he rubbed his temples. "You're not going to like this. So try and stay calm okay?"
Butch could feel the hairs along his arms begin to bristle. "I'll be fine—" he spat, but stopped himself when a familiar face appeared from behind the Professor.
"I'll be here to keep you in check," the person stated calmly. Despite this, her green eyes looked weary.
"Buttercup...? What's going on?" Butch felt his stomach tighten.
Buttercup looked at her father. He looked worried. She nodded. "Tell him."
"Let me explain this quickly. So Brick's brainwaves have changed because he has amnesia, right?" Not waiting for Butch to answer, the Professor continued: "Right. Anyway, sometimes the two brainwaves match and those are areas we need to focus on."
Bandit's eyes lit up. "I see!" he exclaimed.
"What? What's he talking about?" Butch asked, befuddled and feeling frustrated at his lack of understanding.
"Don't you see!" Bandit's voice rose in his excitement. "When the brainwaves match, that means that Brick's new...'brain' has similar thoughts or memories to his old one. So...if we focus on that, then we can help him regain his memories!"
"I get it... I think." Butch frowned. "But...how is that a bad thing?"
Bandit paused, as if just realizing this, and turned to the Professor. "Professor...?" he prompted.
The tall scientist standing before him sighed raggedly. "How do I put this gently... Well, your brother; his new brainwaves... They—They're different... They're not—" He was struggling to speak.
Buttercup sighed, "Do you guys want this to be straight-to-the-point, or would you rather we beat around the bush?"
"Buttercup!" scolded a new voice. This time it was Blossom who emerged from behind one of Mojo's shelves. She was carrying a flat silver machine that was beeping constantly. Wires trailed onto the floor.
"No, it's fine. I vote for straight-to-the-point," Bandit said.
"Me too," Butch agreed. He wanted to know, and he wanted to know fast.
The others looked at one another and there were slight signs of hesitation from some of the Ruffs. In the end, however, all of them said "aye" to getting it over with.
"Alright. Professor; tell it to them straight," Buttercup stated calmly. Her voice cracked only a little.
"...Very well." The Professor suddenly slumped, his usual broad shoulders low and drooping. He seemed very tired. "Well, you see... Brick's currently not—err, very stable. If his brainwaves don't settle down, then...bad things could happen to him; things that are worse than the spasm he's just had. It...It could be fatal."
The silence that followed the Professor's explanation felt suffocating. Butch felt as if someone had lit his entire world on fire and everything was crashing down around him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak.
He only knew one thing: he wanted to scream.
And so that's what he did.
"Is he going to be okay?" Buttercup frowned, unable to keep herself from feeling concerned.
"Which one? Butch or Brick?" Bandit sighed in reply. He looked like he was too tired to even stand straight.
Buttercup hesitated. She had meant Butch, but of course she was worried about Brick too. "Both, I guess."
"I don't know about Brick, but you know Butch. He always throws a tantrum when things go wrong. He should be fine." Bandit ran his fingers through his long brown hair, his purple eyes trailing to where Butch was sitting. "Just...give him a few moments to recover."
Buttercup followed his gaze. Butch was sitting on a bench, arms resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. His eyes were hidden by his spiky black hair. Glowing cuffs of some kind were attached to his wrists; Mojo had placed them on Butch to restrict the Ruff's powers after he'd blown up. Again, Buttercup thought.
Shaking the thought off, Buttercup decided to stick to her word of keeping Butch in check. She went and approached him. "Hey," she greeted.
"What?" he growled back.
"You feeling okay?" Buttercup ignored her irritation at his rudeness and sat down beside him.
Butch tugged at the cuffs around his wrists. "Do I look okay?"
"I don't know; maybe if—" Buttercup's lips clamped shut.
Butch had looked up, and his glare was extremely dark. Black circles surrounded his eyes, and they looked bloodshot. For some reason, his green eyeballs seemed so much darker now.
"Butch..." She trailed off as he started talking.
"You don't understand anything," he snarled. "Nothing at all."
Buttercup managed to recover herself. "I think I know a lot more than you give me credit for, Butch Jojo."
His glare searched her own glaring green eyes, before...he laughed. His laugh was hollow and empty, sounding like nails on a blackboard. "You don't know. You don't know anything. You don't know what I am, or how I feel. You're not as knowledgable as you think, BC."
"Hey!" exclaimed Buttercup, feeling offended. She felt the hairs on her neck bristle. "What happened to 'Brick may not be my brother, but he's my friend too'? Remember how I just said that to you recently? Will you stop being such an inconsiderate asshole and remember the moment where—"
"It's not just about Brick, you know." Butch's eyes turned dark again as he thought back to something else. "It's so much bigger than that now. Much, much bigger. It's about the past, and how stupid adults can be. How stupid love can be. All love does is fuck you up. It messes with your head and makes you unpredictable."
Although Buttercup never had been a fan of the mushy stuff, she suddenly felt the need to defend "love". "It's not always like that," she protested sharply, surprised she was saying her words with such conviction. "When two people fall in love, it's actually really beautiful. Fulfilling, even."
Butch stared back at her with surprise that matched her own at her words. Then he smirked, "Nice choice of words, Butterbabe. Keep telling yourself that."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Buttercup raised an eyebrow defiantly as she folded her arms.
"All I'm saying, is that what happens when you fall in love with the wrong person? Someone who loves someone else? And what happens, if you really really liked that person? What if you got so jealous, you were ready to murder your crush's lover? And what will happen after you snap from all that jealousy and actually do it? How will that affect your friends and family?"
Buttercup stared at Butch. She didn't know how to reply. All the words seemed to dry on her tongue. She swallowed hard.
Butch's gaze was steady as he kept his eyes trained on Buttercup's. Then he smirked, in a sad manner. "I knew it," he whispered, "you wouldn't have an answer."
Trying to think of an answer desperately, Buttercup settled on something: "I may not know how to answer that, but what about the questions like... 'What if both of you love each other'? Wouldn't you be happy then? Together and happy? Love doesn't always lead to 'war'. Sometimes it leads to happiness. Maybe you need to realize that. Maybe...instead of turning away the people who care about you, you should try to accept their efforts to help you. Like me; I do happen to care about you, Butch—even if you are a big idiot." Then she stood up and walked off, leaving a shocked Butch staring after her.
When she joined her sisters, Blossom looked up. "So how's Butch?" she asked, messing around with the device.
"Don't even waste your breath on him," Buttercup sighed. "He's an ass."
Blossom raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Butch, who had returned to his original position. "Buttercup... What did you say to him?"
Buttercup felt her cheeks heat up. She wasn't about to admit that she'd said she "cared about Butch". "Just stuff," she muttered back.
Sensing that Buttercup wouldn't say any more than that, Blossom glanced back down at her device. "There; this should help stabilize Brick's brainwaves for today." Buttercup stared at the helmet-like item with wires attached. Blossom had connected it to the flat thing she was carrying earlier, which turned out to be like a tablet of some sort. "It reads brainwaves," Blossom explained, patting the flat device.
"So we just put the helmet on Brick's head?" asked Buttercup.
Blossom nodded. "That should stabilize his currently unstable brainwaves and simulate enough shock to wake him up. Then we can measure and compare his brainwaves before letting him go. Anytime he breaks down before he regains his memories, just put this helmet on his head."
"Alright." Buttercup turned the helmet around in her head. It was all black and didn't seem too dorky. "At least it looks cool. So how often is the new Brick going to break down?"
"He shouldn't do it too often. If he can get his memories back soon, then the breakdowns should not be frequent; or very fatal," Blossom replied.
"How soon is soon?" pressed Buttercup.
Blossom shook her head. "I don't know yet. Only time will tell that."
Buttercup nodded. "Got it. Well, see you in a bit. I'll take this to Brick." She carried it to Brick, who'd been placed on an infirmary bed in Mojo's lab. She put it on his head and strapped it. The two lights on either side of the helmet started blinking and the tablet started whirring. Brainwaves appeared on Brick's helmet, and suddenly there was the small sound of crackling.
As if someone had flipped a switch in his brain, Brick's eyes opened and he looked up. "Buttercup...?" he asked drowsily in his old, more tough voice.
Buttercup's eyes widened in shock. "Brick! You recognize me! Are your memories are back?"
"What are you talking about?" he muttered. "All I remember is falling after—AUGH!" Brick let out a sharp yelp of pain. His eyes fell shut as he collapsed back down on the bed.
Blossom came running just as soon as Brick's eyes closed. "What happened!?" she demanded.
"I-I don't know," stammered Buttercup, staring back down at Brick. "H-He—"
Brick's eyes flashed open again and he sat up.
"Oh thank God! You're not unconscious again. Brick, tell Blossom; you're okay, right?" Buttercup said, feeling relieved.
Brick blinked. "Who are you?" he asked in a light, innocent tone.
Buttercup felt shock pierce her like a well-carved knife. "But...But you just—!"
Just then, Bandit appeared. "Brick, you're okay! Your cry there made me worried."
Brick turned and smiled. "Hi, B-Ban..."
"Bandit," Bandit reminded his brother. "My name is Bandit. You almost got it."
"Bandit!" echoed Brick excitedly, proud to have gotten his brother's name close.
Blossom edged closer toward a shaken Buttercup as Bandit continued speaking gently to Brick. "What's wrong with you?" she asked.
Buttercup was still feeling dazed. "H-He was back to normal..."
"What?" Blossom stopped right in her tracks as she stared at Buttercup.
"He was normal for a few seconds! He sounded like he used to, and he recognized me. He didn't know what I was talking about when I said how shocked I was that he'd gotten his memories back."
"Impossible..." Blossom's eyes were wide.
Buttercup grabbed Blossom's hands. "Don't you see, Bloss?" she whisper-cried. "Your device brought back his old self for a few seconds!"
Meanwhile, Butch was tugging at his cuffs again. He growled. "How long do I have to wear this stupid thing!?"
"Have you calmed down yet?" Mojo appeared beside him, shocking Butch.
"Yes," snapped the green Ruff.
Mojo shook his head. "No you haven't. Don't lie to me, Butch Jojo. As your fatherly figure, it is my job or duty to take care and make sure you are okay."
"Don't get mushy on me, Dad," snarled Butch.
Mojo sighed and sat down beside Butch. "I know I am not like Damon; not as kind or nice or friendly or caring as he was..."
Butch stopped trying to rip his restraining-cuffs off as he stared at Mojo.
"...But I am still the one who had first created or made you and I believe that I have a duty or job to protect and care for you along with your brothers, the other Rowdyruff Boys. I, Mojo Jojo, promised Damon I'd raise and teach you well. By then I was already no longer a villain, of course, so I meant my promise or 'word'."
Holding his hands up, Butch replied, "Who; okay, okay!" When Mojo stopped talking to stare at him, Butch managed to smile slightly. "Well, thanks for keeping your word, Dad." And this time he said it without sarcasm or prickliness.
Mojo's surprised expression faded into a small smile. "And thank you to you lot too."
Suddenly, the cuffs around Butch's wrist made a melodic noise. The glowing parts of it faded into the air and the cuffs suddenly looked dull—not only that, but without the glowing parts, the whole thing fell off of Butch's wrists!
Mojo's smile grew just slightly in pride. "Those cuffs were designed to restrain powerful and dangerous enemies; so when the captive turns calmer or 'cools down', the cuffs will automatically unlock themselves. These cuffs are generally used only for cases where the criminal cannot escape or run away."
"Okay, I think I got most of what you said." Butch managed to grin slightly as he rubbed his sore wrists.
"I hope you now realize, as in see, that exploding when things go wrong is not always the option or choice to go with. Sometimes it is best or at least better to remain calm and collected," Mojo lectured.
Butch rolled his eyes, yet couldn't help but smile. "Alright, alright."
"Now," Mojo continued, dropping his long speech pattern, "do you, Butch Jojo, not have a brother to check on?"
"Right!" Butch jumped up and flew off, leaving a green streak behind that blew back all the hair on Mojo's body. "Thanks again, Mojo!"
Mojo waved, just as a red-pink cloud materialized beside him. "Him," Mojo greeted.
"Hello, Mojo." Him landed gently on his high-heeled boots as he gazed after Butch, looking proud. "You know, I never thought I'd be proud of a son who wasn't evil."
"Neither did I," responded Mojo, reminiscing about the past. "Yet here we two are, proud of our heroic sons."
"Of course, I am both the better villain and hero compared to you," Him teased.
Mojo smirked. "Do not bet on it, Him."
Him laughed, dropping the subject as he glanced back at the Puffs and Ruffs. "Things have really changed again and again during these past few years."
"Right, and they will continue to change," Mojo agreed. He thought back to Damon and Vix. "And sometimes those changes will include only loss and sorrow, but we shall bounce back stronger than ever."
From across the room, Butch was checking on Brick. He gently ruffled his brother's hair when he was satisfied that Brick was okay. Then he glanced at Buttercup, who had been staring at him. She quickly looked away. Before Butch could approach her and at least try to apologize for his earlier behaviour, a loud ringing noise echoed throughout Mojo's lab. It was the doorbell.
"Can you get it, Butch?" asked Bandit.
Butch stood up and frowned; he'd wanted to talk to Buttercup, but it was clear that the matter was settled. The green Puff was already turned away and whispering in hushed voices with Blossom. The green Rowdyruff Boy sighed before flying up the stairs and to the door. The ringing sounded again. "Yeah, yeah; I'm opening the door so you can stop ringing now."
When he pulled open the door, a familiar boy with curly brown hair stood in front of him. He had a small smile on his face. "Hello, Butch."
Butch stopped in his tracks. "Ross?" he managed to say breathlessly.
"Arms up," commanded Danes. He narrowed his gray eyes. "You're letting your guard down again, Michael."
"Yes, Uncle." His nephew was standing in the centre of the dojo, scratched up and bruised. He was panting, obviously tired. But he managed to raise his fists and block another kick from Jamel.
Jamel recovered quickly, jumping back and spinning on his feet as he gave Michael a low kick to the feet. The exhausted boy toppled over and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
"Get up, Michael," commanded Danes. "Don't just—" He stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Danes turned to see Shamus beside him, shaking his head. Holding back a frustrated sigh at the fact that Michael had once again reached his limit, Danes stood up. "Very well. Get some rest. Jamel, take Michael to the infirmary and get his wounds checked."
"Yessir," Jamel said, saluting Danes. Danes noted that the salute was far more extravagant than it needed to be, and Jamel had his usual cocky smirk on his face.
Danes ignored the obvious sign of slight mockery as he turned away and stalked off. Shamus followed closely, with Vix right beside him—the boy had been training with Michael earlier, but was now just speculating.
"What troubles you, Danes?" asked Shamus.
Danes didn't answer as he stormed past a surprised DJ and Sidney. Deth Jackson, who'd been hanging from the ceiling railings, fell down in his surprise at Danes' arrival. Sidney let out a squeak of alarm at getting in trouble. Darkai remained calm, staying in the shadows of the walls. However, Danes decided to just ignore them for the time-being as he continued to storm off. Shamus remained right behind him. Vix gave his friends a quick gesture of "get going before Danes changes his mind and yell at you". They scampered off.
Danes didn't stop walking until he reached his office. He took out his keys and unlocked the large doors to the large study. Shamus entered after Danes, but the large man almost didn't let Vix in. But after a split decision, Danes decided to let Vix join them. The square-shouldered man sat down behind his desk in his large office chair. He gestured at the two seats before his desk.
Shamus took a seat in one of them. "So tell me, Danes; what is the matter with you?"
Danes answered as Vix sat down silently; the teen obviously just observing to avoid getting into trouble. "I believe that both of you already know that the Ruffs have learned a lot about Damon's crimes as time passed, correct?"
"Yes, but what does that—?" Shamus got cut off as Danes held up his hand. Danes turned to Vix, who nodded to show that he understood too.
"Good. That's all I needed to know." Danes turned his office chair away from them. He gazed out of his window from the dark glass. "So both of you know that the Ruffs are still trying to decide if they still support Damon, correct?"
"...Correct," Shamus managed to say. Danes glanced back at Vix, who only nodded again. Vix knew that if he wasn't careful, Danes may get angry at him and use the artifact that brought Vix so much pain.
"...Good." Danes turned back to the tinted window, gazing at the darker sun behind the glass. "And I hope you also realize what it will mean if the Ruffs continue to support Damon." This time he worded it as a statement rather than a question. Both Shamus and Vix only nodded. Danes watched their responses from the corner of his eyes. His gaze flicked back to the window.
"It would mean war."
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 28!)
ME: Another chapter done. *dusts hands off*
BANDIT: ...What was that last part about war? *raises eyebrow*
ME: Oh, nothing. Just something.
BUTTERCUP: And what was with that moment with Brick?
BLOSSOM: And that entire scene with Damon and Danes at the beginning. *shudders* That was dramatic.
BUTCH: And why's Ross at our house? I didn't know he knew our address! Ain't that dangerous?
ME: Hello, you guys know his address.
BRICK: And that box of stuff dedicated to Sylvie that used to belong to Damon.
ME: Well, at least it wasn't a shrine.
BRICK: That's not what I meant!
ME: It's hard to tell when you are so often sarcastically cynical about what I write.
BRICK: ...Fair point.
ME: If you want answers to any of these questions, the next chapter shall answer some, if not all, of them! Now excuse me as I go celebrate Christmas.
BUBBLES: Merry Christmas, everyone!
BRAKER: Kuku thinks a review would be a nice Christmas present! *winks* And ladies, meet me under the mistletoe.
BLISS: *hits Braker and sends him flying*