CHAPTER 44: CHAOS IN THE WOLF PACK
ME: So...hi again, guys!
BRICK: ...Who guessed right?
ME: You'll see at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers! Now, I have something else I want to address...
BLOSSOM: And what's that?
ME: Someone recently left a review accusing the Puffs of being inconsiderate and going around kissing other boys while the Ruffs are trying to protect them. But, to be fair, the Puffs don't know that. All they can assume is that there's some silly rivalry between their counterparts and the boys flirting with them. But they are also now realizing that there's more to the situation than they thought. Still, because the Ruffs are pushing them away but Ross' friends are not doing that, the Puffs end up hanging out with them a lot. This means that they get to know these boys and in no control of their feelings, might feel closer to them. So, they aren't being slutty or inconsiderate, really. They're just lonely.
As for your desire to have girls put into the story to make it a love square, I am sad to disappoint you, but it's a little late for that. *sweat-drop* Maybe that could be fixed in a sequel, and girls will probably appear for a few chapters, but that doesn't mean it'll become a major plot point. And this is only because it's way too far in the story to introduce another love interest; not because I hate you or anything for the review—I appreciate the criticism!
That being said, THIS IS NOT A PPG X OC STORY as you feared. You asked me to say it was to not disappoint you, but I can't lie. It is still very much so Ruff x Puff—it's just going to take the Ruffs a bit of work to win the girls back over. There will be plenty of moments to prove my point (although I really don't want to delve too deeply into this in fear of spoilers). Meanwhile, my OC's are there to make a love triangle. The current lack of Ruff x Puff is a normal thing for love triangles, so you really have no reason to fear. All it means is that the Ruffs will have to step up their game. *winks*
So please don't worry.
BRICK: *blushes* What do you mean "step up our game"!?
BLOSSOM: Wow...you sounded pretty professional there.
ME: *beams proudly* I know right? Anyway, I only own my OC's and the story! Please continue reading!
Chapter 44: Chaos in the Wolf Pack
The night was quiet and bleak as he walked through the grass, which crunched underneath his feet. The stars glittered in the navy-blue sky, with the moon half-hidden behind ghostly fog. He was concentrating hard on the areas all around him, double-checking constantly that he hadn't been followed.
It was silent though, except for the grass that rustled underneath his foot every time he took a step. He drew his coat tighter around himself, setting his jaw as he thought back to Fillip. It still wasn't clear whether or not he'd pull through and survive, but at the moment the chances seemed unlikely.
Suddenly noises breached the cold silence of the night, and he froze mid-step. He was out in the open, with nothing to hide him. Crouching down low, he peered over the tall grass and caught sight of flitting bats. Two men were wandering around the field, stretching.
"Man, it's been a long day. What say you we go home and get some rest?"
"We're supposed to be guarding the cabin, as per Danes' orders."
"Oh, don't be such a wet blanket. It's already 11:49. Don't tell me you don't want to go home to your warm bed. Besides, there's been no activity for hours. Why would anyone come now?"
There was a moment of silence as the other person considered this. Then: "Alright, fine. But if we get caught, then it's all your fault."
Soon they were gone, nothing more than shadows like the bats that had passed by earlier. The man hiding inside the tall grass ground his teeth together. I hate bats, and I hate Danes and his men. Then he was running, hurrying toward the wooden cabin that looked above the field. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
There was scuffling inside, and soon a voice called out gruffly: "Harry, is that you?"
"Yes," he responded, leaning against the cabin's wooden walls. "Let me in."
The door opened a crack and someone's gleaming eyes stared back at him. Then the person was gone, having stepped away from the door and pushed it further open. Harry hesitated only a second before stepping inside, and almost instantly the smells of burned and rotting wood threatened to overwhelm him. He nearly staggered to the side and had to grip onto a nearby shelf.
The person who had answered the door from him had their shoulders hunched, their face hidden underneath a cloak's hood. "Make yourself at home," they rattled.
Harry frowned, taking a seat at the wooden table. He wasn't sure how a cabin that had undergone such horrible treatment—the burning, Vix's kidnapping, and Damon's death—would ever feel homey.
"Now, you're a little early, which is good." The hooded person glanced at their watch, nodding. "It's 11:54."
"You said 12:00 am sharp," Harry said.
"Yes." The person walked around Harry and took a seat as well, where an open journal and a pen lay. This person was obviously a man, although Harry couldn't make out any features. The mysterious man was studying his pen.
This went on for some time before Harry asked, "What is it exactly that you want me to do? Who is it that you want me to shoot?"
The man started humming softly, not answering immediately. Harry was beginning to lose patience when he finally started talking. He waved at a cluster of monitors set off to the side, hidden in shadow. Harry would've never noticed them if they hadn't been pointed out. They looked out-of-place in the humble cabin. "Do you see those?"
"Yes."
"Do you recognize this boy, then?" The man flicked one of them on and it showed a boy jogging, beads of sweat on his skin. His eyes were a piercing emerald-green, and he had dark hair.
Harry set his jaw. He did recognize the boy. "Yes."
"I want you to shoot him."
Bliss was walking out of DJ's front yard when her phone started ringing, so she picked up. "Moshi moshi?"
"Hey, Bliss. You done interviewing that butt-face DJ yet?"
Rolling her eyes, Bliss placed a hand on her hip as she continued onto DJ's street. "Yes, Braker, I have in fact finished interviewing that 'butt-face' DJ."
"Great. You wanna come over? I got pizza and a movie."
She wasn't all that hungry, but Bliss didn't mind spending time with her friend. "Sure, I'll be there." Then she hung up and flew toward Braker's house. She didn't even have to knock when he flung it open and let her in.
"I've got orange soda and some cheese and pepperoni pizza," Braker called over his shoulder. His hair was messy, and he was dressed lazily in an orange hoodie and gray sweatpants. He had bags under his eyes.
"Thanks." She glanced around, realizing that it had been awhile since she'd been in the Ruffs' house. Just as she was about to follow Braker into the living room, someone appeared from the lab that made Bliss gasp. "Blossom!" she exclaimed, happy to see her sister.
"Hi, Bliss," Blossom greeted her, looking tired and worn out. She was even more bedraggled than Braker. A hint of surprise laced the pink Puff's tone. "What are you doing here?"
"Braker invited me over for pizza and a movie," Bliss explained. She looked over her sister's shoulder at the lab door, where she could hear beeping and Mojo and Bandit's voices. "How's Brick?"
"Still unconscious." Blossom bit her lip. "I'm just worried about him, y'know?"
"I know." Bliss smiled at her sister, taking Blossom's hand and giving it a pat. "It'll be okay. If anyone can figure out how to save Brick, it'd be you guys."
The Powerpuff leader smiled thankfully before slipping away into the kitchen, leaving Bliss by herself. She walked to the living room and joined Braker, who was pushing buttons on the remote, a slice of stringy cheese pizza dangling from his mouth. When he found the correct input, he sat down on the floor with his legs crossed.
Bliss joined him, sitting next to him but on the couch, gripping a plastic cup of orange soda in her hand. The TV started playing some action movie and they watched in silence for awhile, before Braker suddenly stirred.
"How was DJ?" he asked gruffly.
Bliss started and glanced down at her counterpart in surprise. "He was fine."
"I bet," he grunted back, swallowing the pizza in his mouth. "DJ's always been a gentleman."
"For your information, he was in fact very much so a gentleman," Bliss replied, bristling slightly. She felt just a little defensive as she folded her arms.
The room fell silent as Braker's eyes lingered on the TV screen. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and low. "I don't like you hanging out with him."
"What? Why?" She furrowed her brow, unnerved by Braker's unusual seriousness. This wasn't the playful, friendly orange Rowdyruff Boy she'd come to know. This was an entirely different person all together: serious and distrustful.
"He's bad news." His tone was even but his hand shook as he took another slice of pizza and chomped down on it, not meeting her gaze as he chewed.
"What do you mean, 'bad news'? He's just a normal teenager, like you or me. If it's about the ridiculous rumours that his father runs a 'mafia'—"
"It's not that," Braker said quietly, shaking his head. "And there's more to him than 'just a normal teenager'. Hell, not even I'm normal."
"Well, yeah—we have superpowers. But what's so unusual about DJ?"
"No, I meant that I also have something else that makes me unusual." Braker was obviously straining to keep the secret from tumbling out of his mouth. "And DJ's got it too."
Bliss fell silent for awhile, and they both stared blankly at the TV screen. But suddenly the movie wasn't as interesting, looking like moving blurs as nothing registered in Bliss' head. She was too distracted by Braker's words, which felt like mysterious hieroglyphics that were impossible to wrap one's head around. She kept pressing her mental "rewind/replay" button, trying to make sense of it all. But that was just it.
It didn't make sense.
Braker broke the silence first, after guzzling down some soda and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked distracted. "It's just...you know he and I are enemies."
"He's not my enemy though." Bliss frowned and raised her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.
"I know, but"—he hesitated—"he's just...different."
"It's not bad that he's a little eccentric."
"It's not that," sighed Braker, sounding mildly frustrated. It was like he was explaining something to a three-year-old who didn't seem to understand that jumping off of the house's roof would never make one fly.
"Then what is it?" retorted Bliss, her own voice just as frustrated. She was tired of the Ruffs and their mysterious secrecy. "I won't understand until you explain it to me!"
At this, Braker fell quiet again. His eyes lingered on her briefly before he turned away and watched the movie again. "I guess you could say that there's been some stuff happening behind-the-scenes. At first I just disliked him and his friends and family. But now...now that all this new stuff has happened, there's a lot more to it."
Bliss couldn't keep the confusion away. "What do you mean?" she demanded.
"...I mean that DJ isn't what he seems."
She swallowed back an agitated, sarcastic retort. Instead, she responded with, "That's what you've been saying this whole time, but it doesn't make any sense to me! If you can't even tell me why I should stay away from DJ, then why do you care so much?"
Braker turned his deep-orange eyes on her. "Maybe I don't like seeing you with him."
"Braker..." Bliss hesitated now. "Are you trying to say you're jealous?" The thought made her stomach flutter nervously.
"It's just...it feels wrong," Braker finally stated, not meeting her eyes. "I don't know if it's jealousy or not."
Something inside her felt a little torn, although she felt as though she should be glad that it wasn't likely jealousy. "But what if it feels right to me?" whispered Bliss.
Braker's gaze suddenly looked distant and he didn't reply. Bliss swallowed, and they watched the rest of the movie in uncomfortable silence, only talking a little bit. When she left, she said thank you and goodbye after saying goodbye to Blossom, but Braker wouldn't meet her gaze. He was stiff as a statue and so curt Bliss almost felt like an unwanted stranger.
When the door shut behind her, she couldn't help but shiver in the sudden cold breeze.
She felt light against his body, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. They were sitting in a tree, the stars and the moon glittering above them. His presence made her feel warm and comforted.
"Darkai?" she whispered.
"Hmm?" he responded quietly, his usual velvety tone wrapping around her.
"You feel okay, don't you? You came in with a nasty gash today."
There was a slight trace of amusement in his voice when he answered her. "I'm fine. I promise. Don't tell me you worry about me 24/7."
She glanced up at him and saw that he was smiling slightly. "It's not all that funny." She pouted. "I'm worried about you."
"I know. I'm sorry; I shouldn't tease you about this. Thanks for caring, Bunny." Darkai leaned in and brushed his lips against her forehead, sending warm tingles down her arms. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Bunny instantly melted beside him. "I'm glad you're okay though."
"Mmm." He acknowledged her words with a slight nod, closing his eyes.
"It's really pretty out tonight," she remarked, staring up at the moon.
He nodded again, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze. "Even prettier with you here."
Bunny blushed. After Darkai had kissed her on the cheek, he'd started being much gentler with her. It made her feel all warm inside, but she still wasn't used to Darkai's new closeness.
When she didn't answer, Darkai opened one eye and his lips curled upwards again. Bunny's face was a deep shade of red, which he clearly found amusing. "Are you okay?"
"I-I-I'm fine," she stammered back.
"Glad to hear it." He kissed her on the nose. "I should be going."
"Oh, okay." Bunny's shoulders slumped just slightly.
"Don't worry. We'll see each other again soon enough." Darkai leaned back, his dark-blue eyes shining beneath the moonlight. He looked so peaceful. "Goodbye, little Bunny. You're a sky full of stars." Then he was gone, having jumped off the tree. With a quick nod goodbye, Darkai disappeared within the bushes and was gone.
Bunny stayed there a moment longer, before flying home herself. She hadn't gotten very far when she felt a cool breeze and saw someone else in the air. They left a purple streak behind, zigzagging around. Bunny slowed down, carefully letting her own streak fade behind her. The person in the air was Bandit, and he was flying toward a secluded part in the forest.
Her curiosity got the better of her, even though she was supposed to be avoiding him. Bunny followed him downwards and was surprised to see an old cabin sitting in a field of green grass. She was more surprised that she'd never realized a cabin was even there. She couldn't help but wonder how Bandit knew about the place.
He landed at the door and opened it, walking inside. She didn't follow, since considering the size of the cabin, it was highly likely that they'd run into each other and Bandit would demand to know what she was doing there. Things were bad enough between them; she didn't want to make them worse, especially when she was the one who had hurt Bandit before. Bunny shivered and landed in the grass, standing there to wait.
Not three minutes had passed when a rustling noise sounded nearby, causing Bunny to jump. She turned and thought she saw a silhouette of a man, flitting in and out of the shadows. She shuddered, but she didn't see him again.
Eight minutes passed before the door creaked open and Bandit stepped outside. He was carrying papers, books, and other small times, looking forlornly back at the cabin. He didn't spy her as he burst into the air.
Bunny looked up at him, watching his purple streak fade into the distance. The wind his blastoff had caused sent her hair billowing around her. She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to follow him or check the cabin out for herself. But then she remembered the mysterious man that might be out there and shuddered again, deciding to follow Bandit. She'd confront him, but she wouldn't tell him that she knew about the cabin. She could check that out with her sisters—in the daytime.
So she quickly followed Bandit into the sky, the only hint that she'd been there being her own light-purple streak. Below in the tall grasses, a man looked up after them. "Bandit..." he murmured, his grip tightening on the journal he was carrying. He was lugging a suitcase behind him, which was stuffed full of monitors. He was going to be meeting Harry later at midnight to discuss their plans.
When he was sure that the both of the super-powered teens were gone, he crossed the field and went straight into the cabin.
Meanwhile, Bunny had finally caught up to Bandit, and was putting in a burst of speed. She appeared next to him and called out softly, "Bandit...? What are you doing out here?"
He started and nearly dropped his things, scrambling to pick them up. She apologized and helped him pick the falling items from the sky, but he quickly snatched them back with only a quick mutter of "thanks".
"So...why are you out right now?" she asked again.
Bandit's rich purple eyes looked uneasy, looking at the sky and the earth—anywhere besides her. "I had to go out and get some supplies."
Bunny wondered how much of the truth he was telling her. She glanced at the bundle in his arms. "I-Is it research?"
"In a way." Bandit was still tense, his grip tightening on the things.
She spotted a flash of the word "Damon" before it disappeared from view. "Are you going home now?"
Realizing that the subject had changed, the purple Ruff's shoulders relaxed a little. He glanced at her, frowning. "Yes," he said tersely.
"Bandit... Look, about our argument—"
"No, you look." His shoulders were rigid again, and only now did she notice the dark circles underneath his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be avoiding me? Going out with Darkai or something?"
"I-I'm not g-g-going out with—"
"Sure you aren't. I can see the looks you give each other." Bandit looked angry now, his pent-up frustration finally being released—onto Bunny.
She winced. "I-I don't see why it bothers you so much..."
"You know why! He's not my friend and I at least know the truth about him." Bandit's hold on the things in his arms tightened again.
"What do you mean by the truth?" Bunny asked. "He's just a boy, Bandit!"
"Just a—you really don't know everything about him!"
"I know he isn't deserving of your accusations!"
Bandit snorted. "Of course not. He's perfect. Oh, so perfect. And me? I'm just some jealous, overprotective, paranoid nutcase, right? Well, I'm sorry about caring and worrying about you!"
She was taken aback by his statement. "I-I didn't think you'd t-take it th—"
"That's just the thing!" He threw his hands into the air and the items fluttered out of his grip. He quickly caught them all, turning back to her. "You don't think."
She winced again.
Bandit sighed. "Look, I don't want to fight again. Maybe you staying away from me is for the best right now. I just wish"—here he hesitated—"I just wish it didn't have to be this way. And if you're going to avoid me, I just wish you'd realize you should avoid Darkai too. I'm not jealous, it just...it hurts knowing that you trust him more than you trust me, even though we've known each other longer."
"Bandit..."
"I know, I'm being selfish, aren't I? But I have my reasons. Darkai is dangerous. But then again, so am I. It's just that—you're willing to be with him right now, but not me, even though we both have secrets, we both hide things, we both pose a risk on you. And that's the part about it that hurts the most: knowing that he hasn't hurt you the way I did, even though I was doing it for your own good."
"Don't say that," she pleaded softly, "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you—I just—I didn't know what I'd say or do if I ran into you. A-And you've been ignoring me too, h-haven't you?"
"Only because I thought it was for the best." He looked down at the earth beneath them, the two of them still floating in the air. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm doing what I can to prevent you—and everyone—from being hurt even more. If that means hurting you guys a little bit for the sake of keeping you all away from more harm, then I'm willing to do it."
"Bandit..." She was struggling to come up with anything to say. "I don't—I don't want to keep fighting. Can't we start talking again?"
He shook his head. "I'm not mad at you anymore. I was mostly mad at myself anyway. I forgive you, I promise. But...I'm sorry, Bunny. I don't think I should get too close to you anymore—at least not now. We can talk, I guess—but if it puts you at great risk, then we can cut ties until—"
"How can you say all this?" she whispered.
"It's for the best," he said firmly, after a long pause.
"Bandit, no... Don't do this—" She swallowed hard.
"It'll be okay. I promise." He gave her a weak smile. "After all, you have Darkai to protect you, don't you?" He turned away. "I have to leave now."
"Wait! Don't go yet," Bunny cried, reaching for his wrist. He glanced back at her in surprise and Bunny felt herself shiver. "Why won't you let me help you?"
Bandit shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's not that easy." He stared into her eyes so intensely she had to look away, biting her lip. "Trust me, I wish it was."
He pulled his wrist from her grasp, and she automatically reached out again. "Wait, I want to help; I don't want us to be distant anymore; I want to be friends again—" She was blurting out whatever came to her mind, her words coming out in a long string.
His weak smile returned again, although it looked a little stronger this time. He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze and leaned in. Bunny's heart skipped a beat as his lips rested just a centimetre away from her forehead. He hovered there before his lips brushed her skin. "You're a sky full of stars, Bunny," he whispered. And then he was gone, only a purple streak left behind.
Bunny stared after him, shocked and hurt and confused. That was the second time someone had said that to her that night—and the first time Bandit had... Bunny froze. Did he just kiss me? Did that count? The gesture made her feel fuzzy and warm inside, sending her heart thudding, but she still felt cold and hurt at the idea of Bandit staying away from her for even longer—but this time it'd be worse because he was no longer angry, yet he was still avoiding her—and she knew.
She closed her eyes and let out a small whimper before flying home.
"Wow, I can't believe we're...y'know."
"Why? Because I'm not good enough for you?" He smiled teasingly, setting down his cup of freshly brewed, still hot coffee.
She blushed. "No, because I didn't think I'd be dating anyone anytime soon." She glanced down in embarrassment as she swirled her plastic spoon inside of her latte, biting her lip. It still felt a little weird to call him her boyfriend, because the term seemed so unfamiliar. It had been ages since she'd bothered to actually date-date a boy for an extended time.
He laughed, his voice rich and warm. "We're just trying it out, remember? I told you, I really appreciate all of your help, Banana. And well...you make me feel better. Having you here, so close to me—it just feels right. We seem compatible."
Banana fell silent but her lips curled upwards. She leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Michael."
"I should be the one thanking you," Michael replied immediately, grabbing her and pulling her closer when she leaned back. His eyes softened as he stared into her wide yellow eyes, and then he bent forward, lips meeting hers.
When he let her go, Banana felt breathless. "I...wow," she whispered.
He grinned at her. "I can't get enough of you."
Her face reddened. "You're too kind."
"No, you are. I can't believe you're still around for someone like me," Michael responded, nuzzling her.
Banana's lips twitched as she ran her hand through his soft blond hair. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'll be here for you."
His breath warmed her cheek. "Thanks."
They paused, simply enjoying each other's company. They would've stayed like that longer too, had it not been for the sudden appearance of a certain yellow Rowdyruff Boy. Michael noticed him first, hearing the ringing of the bell attached to the door and the footsteps before he spotted the yellow eyes halfway across the café. Almost immediately a hiss left his clenched teeth, causing Banana to pull away from his warmth. "What's wrong, Michael?" she whispered.
"Hide," he hissed back, gently prodding her in the shoulder. She frowned but did as she was told, ducking down and peeking out from the seat. What she saw made her gasp in surprise.
It wasn't just the fact that Blaster of all people was in the same café as her and Michael—considering how he didn't take too well to her being with him—it was also the fact that Blaster was covered in wounds and bandages and was still bleeding. It was late at night but the yellow Ruff looked like he'd just been at war.
"Jesus, man—are you okay?" Bat raised an eyebrow from behind the counter, leaning forward and staring at the crusted blood with wide eyes.
"I'm fine," snapped Blaster. When he spotted the surprise in Bat's eyes (Blaster barely ever snapped unless really angry!), he sighed. "I mean...I'm okay; I promise. Look, don't worry about me. You know what it's like for me."
"Yeah." Bat frowned, crinkling his nose. "But if you want to talk about it—"
"I'm. Fine. Okay? Now, a latte, please and thank you," Blaster forced out from between gritted teeth.
Bat eyed him with obvious concern and a doubtful frown, before nodding and turning away to prepare the order. Banana watched with shock, unable to tear her eyes away from the cuts that ribboned around his arms. It was like a horror show you couldn't look away from. He looked like he was still in pain, wincing every now and then or rubbing at a wound while waiting for his latte. Banana felt the urge to go out and demand answers as well as ask if he was okay or see if he needed help, but she was too dazed to actually do anything. Besides, having a distrustful Michael next to her wasn't the ideal situation to talk to a Rowdyruff Boy—let alone Blaster.
Bat reappeared with the drink, sliding it across the counter to his friend. "Careful; it's hot," he murmured, before backing off. It was obvious he meant the word in more ways than one.
"What happened to him?" Banana finally said, surprising herself at how her voice shook.
Michael didn't reply immediately, still watching Blaster sip at his latte with so many unfamiliar, conflicting emotions flickering across his face that Banana only just managed to catch. "I don't know," he muttered, "but I don't like it."
"I'm worried about him," Banana finally said, readying herself to slide out of her seat. "I'm going to go check—"
"Wait, don't go." Michael's voice sounded strained, strangled, and even a little panicked. "Don't go yet."
"Why?" Banana asked, staring at him.
"That's why," whispered her companion, just as the door burst open and someone jumped inside.
"Where did the twerp go!?" the person shouted.
People jumped and stared at the newcomer, who was seething and...carrying a knife. They screamed and raced for the door, before realizing the person with the knife was already at the door and running around the café in chaotic panic. Banana ducked back as someone hurtled past her, shrieking about terrorists, and her eyes darted toward Blaster. He had jumped up, grimacing from the pain as he cursed.
The person with the knife noticed him the same time Banana did, eyes sparking. He charged. Blaster jumped backwards, barely dodging a wild swing as he landed on a table. Plastic cups clattered to the floor and coffee spilled.
Another swing cut a few strands of Blaster's soft blond hair, which seemed to flutter into the air in slow motion. But seconds later, things sped up again and Blaster was suddenly off of the table, shoving it to the side and using it as a shield. There was a splitting noise as the knife sliced the table and got stuck. The attacker cursed, grabbing the table and yanking the knife out. Then he gave the table a good kick and it tumbled into Blaster, who cried out in pain.
The yellow Ruff rolled backwards and crashed right into Banana and Michael's table. But before he noticed them, he leaped upwards and rushed toward his mysterious attacker, bouncing from table to table as the man threw swings like a batter. More items fell to the floor as tables toppled over and Blaster leaped from place to place.
When the man got to the counter, Bat caught his wrist and tore the knife from his grip. The man swore and almost hit Bat, but Blaster swung a glass bottle at the man's arm and the item shattered. The attacker screamed as two shards of glass pierced his skin and he stumbled backwards, crashing into a table.
Banana and Michael's table.
Blaster grabbed the broken bottle and stalked toward the man, eyes dark and murderous as he called out softly, "You tried to hurt me and endangered my friends and the citizens of Townsville."
The attacker only moaned back.
"I will destroy you." Blaster's lips twisted into a sickening smile briefly, before it disappeared and his eyes flashed red. He raised the bottle over his head, aiming it at the man's own head, laser vision ready to heat the bottle up before it made contact with the attacker's skull.
"Blaster, wait!" Bat scrambled out of the mess behind the counter, practically flying toward his friend as he tried to grab the bottle. "Don't kill him!"
"Oh, he'll be alive. Very alive." Blaster swung down.
Bat caught his wrist but was quickly shoved aside by Blaster, and then the glass bottle was coming down. But once again, it didn't make contact. This time, someone else grabbed the bottle with two hands, which now dripped with blood. The person winced but didn't let go, eyes fixed firmly on Blaster's own murderous ones. His eyes reminded her of a rabid wolf.
"Blaster, stop. This isn't like you."
"...Move." Blaster's gaze remained violently transfixed on the now whimpering man behind the newcomer.
She set her jaw. "Blaster."
"Move! Or I'll break you too," he growled, his voice rising with each word until it was a threatening roar. Then he ripped the bottle from her hands and brought it over his head once more, before swinging down.
She closed her eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came, even though the noise did. Shocked, Banana opened her eyes to see Michael standing in front of her, arms held above his head. Broken glass scratched his skin. Blaster, panting, stared wildly at Michael like he saw a monster before him. "Are you okay, Banana?" Michael asked in a weak murmur.
"I'm okay now, but—"
"What do you think you're doing?" Blaster yelled. "MOVE! Outta my way!"
Banana's eyes widened. She realized that her counterpart would hurt anyone who stood in his way, so she grabbed Michael and shoved him aside. "Blaster, stop already—it's me: Banana. Stop...please."
There was a sudden silence as Banana let the words settle, and in that silence the red vanished from Blaster's eyes. He blinked before staring at her. "Banana...?" Suddenly he looked dazed, as if he didn't remember why he was there.
"Put down the bottle," Banana ordered.
Blaster stared at her, before spotting her hands wrapped around broken glass and still bleeding. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped the item, Banana letting go simultaneously. The bottle smashed to the floor, shattering into more pieces. "Shit," he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"It couldn't be helped. You lost control, but at least you saved many people. And yourself." Banana glanced down at her bleeding hands and winced as she plucked a glass piece from her left palm. "I just wish I could've stopped you a different way."
Blaster still looked dazed. He glanced back down at the man behind her and his eyes hardened, but not to the murderous intent they'd contained before. "You're pathetic," he whispered, grabbing the man by the arm.
Suddenly, Michael appeared and ripped the man's arm away from Blaster. "Don't touch him," he growled. "I'll take him away."
Blaster bristled. "How can I trust you when he's on your—"
"That's enough!" Banana commanded. She turned to Blaster. "Let Michael take him away. We don't know if you're going to snap again or not around him."
"As long as he doesn't provoke me, I'm fine." Blaster bristled again. "Don't you trust me?"
"I don't know. Should I?" She raised an eyebrow, raising her hands at the same time. Blood dribbled down her wrist.
Blaster winced. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Point taken. Michael can escort him out of here." He scowled, which didn't fit Blaster's soft and usually smiling face.
Michael scowled right back as he dragged the whimpering man out of the back door.
"Are you really sorry?" Banana finally asked, after moments of nothing.
Blaster paused, surprised. He looked even hurt. Then he turned away and Banana wondered if she'd only imagined his expression. "Of course I'm sorry. Especially to you."
She was quiet for awhile. Then: "Who was he, anyway?"
"Just a common criminal who thought he could take me." Blaster folded his arms but immediately grimaced. "He only got a few lucky strikes 'cause I was already ragged."
"And what happened to you before he showed up to fight you?"
Blaster stiffened, as if he'd just realized that he'd said too much. "I just... A tree fell on me while I was...training."
"...Mmm-hmmm," Banana murmured back, sounding incredibly disbelieving.
"I'm serious!" Blaster insisted. "It was a tree."
Before they could argue further, Michael reappeared and wrapped a protective arm around Banana. He kept a wary eye on Blaster. "Stay away from us."
"What do you think you're doing?" Blaster pointed angrily at Michael's arm around Banana's shoulder. "You're going to put her at great risk!"
Michael let out another angry hiss, this one even more animal-like than the last one. "I'm going to protect her from the likes of you."
Blaster snorted. "It's you she'll need protection from if you keep being so careless!"
"Shut up!" snapped Michael. "You don't know anything. You're monsters, every last one of you and your kind. Just like Damon was."
"Don't speak about Damon like you knew him!" Blaster yelled, and suddenly there was a blur and a crunching sound as fist met face.
The sheer force of the blow sent Michael reeling backwards, straight into Banana's arms. When the Puff managed to secure him, she looked up to see a panting Blaster who had an angry look in his eyes. "Apologize," she commanded, after recovering from the shock.
Blaster froze. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Apologize," she repeated.
Blaster let out a cross between a strangled laugh and a frustrated snort. "Oh sure I'm so sorry you bratty nephew of Danes; how can you ever forgive m—?"
"Apologize like you mean it!"
"—I can't! He just... He knows Danes, who took Damon and Vix away from us and brainwashed Vix into using his Eye against us and Michael and his friends are now all trying to fight us in this giant battle and—"
"Blaster, slow down. You're making no sense. Just apologize."
"I can't, don't you get it?"
"No, because you're not. Making. Any. Sense!"
"I get it. Once a monster, always a monster," muttered Michael.
Banana elbowed him pretty hard, but Blaster was already enraged again. He grabbed Michael by the collar and yelled, "Oh SHUT UP! It's not like you understand anything! You're spoiled rotten as Danes' nephew and just rotten in general! You disgust me sometimes, you know that? Because you think you know everything but you don't. Don't even dare insult me, my side, or my family ever again, or I will do more than hit you! But this time let me show you..." Before the yellow Ruff could smash his fist into Michael's face again though, Banana stepped forward and grabbed his arm. "Let me go," Blaster snapped. "This piece of shit needs to learn—"
Banana cut him off by slapping him across the face. Hard. "Enough!" she commanded.
Blaster froze; silence filtered in; Banana's hand stayed in midair; and Michael's eyes widened in (mildly) satisfied shock. Then suddenly everything was moving again as Banana rushed to help her counterpart.
"I didn't mean to—" She trailed off, eyes wide with regret as she reached out to grab his arm.
Blaster glared, slapping her hand away. "Don't touch me," he spat, "I see you've decided to side with him." Then he was storming away, seething and angry as he disappeared out the door.
Michael approached Banana and wrapped her up in his arms, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry we got so carried away," he whispered, kissing her appearing tears away. "Don't worry; I'm sure he'll forgive you soon. It's me he should be mad at."
Banana wanted to push him away and demand why they were always fighting, or at least demand that Michael and Blaster try once again to forgive and forget. But right at that moment, she felt stunned and even a little lonely. Michael's arms brought her the comfort that she currently desired so badly. He was her shield. Banana sucked in a shaky breath and turned yellow eyes on him. "Do you think he hates me?" she whispered.
"No, I don't think that." Michael's brow furrowed in concern. "Please don't think that."
"But what if he does?"
"If he does, then that's his own mistake. Besides"—here Michael gave her a gentle kiss on the lips—"you'll always have me."
Banana forgot her anger at the both of them and collapsed inside his arms, closing her eyes. "Don't leave me alone tonight," she mumbled into his shirt. She squeezed the fabric. "Please."
"...Of course."
Christie was about ready to scream when she finished the document. She'd been through twenty of them, and none of them were useful. They were all missing vital data, with gaping holes where information wasn't concrete. By the end of her reading, Christie had started to hate seeing the words "unconfirmed", "rumours say", "believed to have", and many more—but not nearly as much as she hated the name "Damon". She hated that name with a burning passion, but it was the very name Christie had been trying to research—and finding almost nothing on it. She growled and swept her arm across her deck, sending parchments fluttering to the floor.
She sighed and flipped between the two photos Blaster had let her keep: one of Ross' parents with Damon, Danes, and Shamus. The other had Damon with the Rowdyruff Boys.
Every single one of the papers had listed as much information as possible, but it wasn't enough. Christie needed to know more. More about Sylvie, Tyrone, and Damon. That disgusting, murderous, piece of shit Damon, who killed off Ross' father in cold blood. And now the people on his side have hurt my parents, and left them for dead. They have taken things too far this time. Christie shook her head in disgust—but also pain.
She needed more information.
Standing up, Christie turned to look at the two glass tubes that currently held her parents. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Her mother looked so strange with her eyes closed peacefully, but with her usually wild and frizzy hair. Wounds punctured her skin, still healing. Christie's father's hair was now sticking up in different areas, matted with sweat—ruining his usual gelled hairdo. His entire body was crisscrossed with wounds and bruises, but his eyes were also shut calmly. It wasn't right; they were so injured and yet they looked so calm and peaceful. Christie hated seeing them like this, but she looked at them everyday to refuel her anger, determination, and hatred for Damon.
Michael hated seeing them like that too, but his hurt had led him to mostly avoid his parents. Christie noted that her little brother seemed to have found someone to fill the gap in his heart, and then she would hurt all over because she didn't have anyone like that to help her.
The closest thing she had was Vix, who now vanished like smoke too often thanks to the ongoing war. He was also still ignoring her after she'd hit him across the face. She even missed his teasing and his smirking, which she hated to admit. But Vix really was all that she had. Michael's friends were younger than her, and all the boys who had wanted her in private school wasn't with her at the moment. Besides, she thought bitterly, they could never comfort me and keep me company during this sort of crisis.
Christie groaned and leaned against the wall to Danes' cave, dubbed the "Batcave". Bats hung from the cave's ceiling, and she wished that she could join them forever—to forget all her troubles and live freely. But then she sighed. She knew it would never happen.
Pushing herself off the wall, Christie crossed the room and went off to find Danes. Yet she hadn't taken even ten steps when someone emerged from the shadows, eyes gleaming within the darkness. "You should take a break."
She bristled involuntarily, even though she immediately recognized the softly harsh voice. "What do you know, anyway?"
"I know you're tiring yourself out. You look like you could use some rest."
"What I need is coffee. And for you to leave me alone."
"Now that wouldn't do." The person folded their arms and stood in front of her. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep this up."
"Shut up! You don't know anything!" Christie threw her hand out. "You don't know the pain of wanting revenge. You have no one."
Suddenly, there was a long, awkward stretch of uncomfortable silence. Christie's hand had flown to her mouth, as she suddenly felt very sorry.
He was quiet for quite awhile, before he stated, "I did have someone—someone's. I had my parents, and they were taken from me. I had the Ruffs, but they were taken from me and now they hate my guts. I had Damon, and he was taken from me too. And not only that, but it turned out he'd lied to me. Don't you think I felt hurt too? I'm not invincible, Christie."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over—"
"Hate."
"What?" she whispered, staring at him.
"Hate came over you," he repeated matter-of-factly. "I know the feeling. It's all-consuming. It takes your pain and recycles it into rage." He gripped his shirt. "I get it all the time. When my heart hurts, I let my hate consume me and I feel anger instead. Then I forget the pain, even if only for a short while."
Christie touched her own chest, where she could feel her heart beating. "...Oh," she only managed to say.
"I feel pain too," he finally said, repeating himself from earlier. "And now I also feel pain for you. That's who I am. I am Vix, broken and bruised, but still holding on. I'm a traitor and hated by both sides. I'm a fighting machine and a minion to Danes. I was Damon's ward, but now I'm Danes'. I thought of Damon as a father. But he's gone, and now I hurt."
Before she could reply, he was gone, and Christie was left standing there all alone. She clutched her shirt tighter, feeling her pulse race. "If you feel my pain too, then why aren't you here to comfort me...?" she whispered. But she knew she was at fault too; always pushing Vix away and hurting him. I don't care for him. It doesn't matter, she told herself. But it did matter. She didn't care anymore; she just wanted anyone—anyone—to comfort her—even if they were Vix.
She suddenly felt choked by the stale air in the mansion, so she went outside. She hadn't gotten very far when she ran into someone stumbling out of the bushes. This person appeared to be limping, blood crusted around their fresh wounds. "B...Blaster?" she gasped.
He looked up, staggering to the side. "Ouch," he muttered, staring intently back at her. "Are you... Wait, Christie?"
She nodded. "What are you doing here?"
"I've been fighting Danes' lackeys." Blaster picked a twig out of his now dirty sweater, sighing. "When I left, one of them trailed me to a café where chaos ensued. I subdued him, but then I—" He sucked his lips in and trailed off. "Never mind that. Why are you out so late?"
"I needed some fresh air." Christie tilted her head to the side. "Are you okay?" The question surprised even herself.
"What do you care?" Blaster asked incredulously. "I'm the enemy."
"I know, but—seeing you like this—it just doesn't feel right." Christie walked over and inspected his cuts. "You're not in very good shape."
"No, I'm not," he agreed. "In more ways than one." He gripped his shirt, where his heart was. "This place hurts."
"You too?" she said, surprised. When he looked up, she blushed. "I mean... Because my heart hurts too."
"...Oh." Blaster looked surprised, but then he recovered. "It's that whole thing about your parents, isn't it?" he whispered quietly.
Christie nodded. "And... Well, other things hurt too. Like—and I know this is insane, but—I miss having Vix's company now. I just got used to his yapping and now he's gone. He's ignoring me again, but I don't blame him. This time I...I slapped him..."
Blaster's eyes widened. "You slapped Vix? And Vix, of all people?"
She nodded to confirm it. "I know, it's insane. I was insane. I can't believe I slapped him." She shook her head now. "I just—he was being so mean, pushing me away like that and I've been needing someone by my side since my parents were found and—and well..." Christie cut herself off as she could no longer say anything else, breaking down in sobs as she kneeled down, unable to stand anymore. "I-I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I'm r-r-rambling..."
"No, it's fine." Blaster's gaze softened as he crouched down beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her. "Don't cry."
Christie didn't—couldn't—stop crying, her shoulders shaking. The thought of being comforted by her enemy made her want to cry more, but soon his warmth calmed her down. She swallowed hard. "Thank you."
"You sure you're okay?" he finally said.
She nodded. "I'm fine." Christie glanced at him. "Why are you comforting me?"
"Didn't you say you needed someone—anyone—to help you? And if you're willing to have Vix of all people comfort you, then I think I can too. Isn't this what you wanted?" Blaster smiled almost teasingly.
She blushed. "Thank you. Then allow me to return the favour. Why are you hurting, Blaster?"
"Besides being in a war and having the possibility that my former caretaker could've been some murderous monster?"
Christie hesitated. "I-I guess so. But...if it's not that... Is there really more to be sad about?"
He smiled sadly. "Yeah, there's more. Someone I care about is in potential risk, and she's found someone else to comfort her. She's forgotten about me."
"How do you know she doesn't actually care about you still?"
"Because I was slapped too."
Buttercup jogged with Butch on a trail inside of a forest, having called him up earlier during the day and insisted they talk. The moon hung above them even though the sun hadn't fully set yet, and Buttercup knew that it was nearly curfew. Still, it didn't stop her from feeling determined to talk to Butch.
"So what did you want to talk about?" Butch asked awkwardly. They had worked on their project together before Buttercup suggested a walk—or rather, a run.
"Everything." She turned her apple-green eyes on him. "You were fine at the fair, and now you're so distant again. Why?"
"I guess I'm just tired." Butch shrugged.
Buttercup frowned, unsatisfied with his answer. "Tell me the truth."
He set his jaw. "There's nothing to tell."
"There you go again, saying bullshit like that!" She threw her hands into the air for emphasis.
"Well what am I supposed to say!? I can't share it with you!"
"Why not? Don't you trust me?"
Butch hesitated and stopped running. "You know it's not that."
"Yeah, it's that bullshit about 'protecting' me again, ain't it?" Buttercup slowed down too.
Butch scowled at her. "Yes, it is in fact that 'bullshit' again."
"Stop being so paranoid. I can handle myself." She folded her arms defiantly.
He stepped toward her, growling. "You don't know what you're saying. You don't even know what you're up against."
"So what is it?" she demanded.
Butch had caught up to her, and now he slammed his hand into a tree behind her head, trapping her. He lowered his head so that they were gazing into each other's eyes. But it wasn't breathtaking or romantic. It was a staring competition between two stubborn teenagers.
"What am I up against?" she demanded again, not yet shrugging his arm off of her own shoulder.
He leaned in, flaring his nostrils. His breath smelled like mint against her skin. "Monsters," he whispered.
Buttercup felt a shudder coming on, but she tried her best to keep still, opening her mouth to protest when suddenly Butch clamped his hand over her lips and leaned in even closer. Their bodies were right against each other's. Buttercup struggled but he forced the arm holding the tree down, stilling her shoulders.
"Stay quiet for awhile," he muttered, eyes trailing to the trees behind them.
Buttercup forced her shoulders to slump against his, remembering the last time Butch had done this to her. It had turned out to be for a relatively good reason*, so she let him.
Soon voices rang out from within the forest, loud in the still forest.
"I'm telling you, Darkai and Michael are pulling a lot of vanishing acts lately," a familiar voice whined.
"Oh, come on, DJ. You saw how they were with Bunny and Banana respectively," a new voice cut in. "And what about you and Bliss?"
Buttercup felt her breath escape her throat. Ross, she realized.
"Yeah, yeah." DJ suddenly appeared in the open, swinging from branch to branch on the trees. He was smiling despite his annoyed tone. He didn't notice Butch nor Buttercup, both of whom were secured behind thick tree trunks and bushes. Ross followed at an easy pace, staring up at his swinging friend with hands in his pockets. Sidney lingered behind them, looking as shy as ever.
DJ pulled himself completely upwards onto a branch, turning so that he looked down at his friends. "It's true that Bliss is an absolute doll. What about you two? I see you with Bubbles a lot, Sidney." Deth grinned deviously. "And Ross with Buttercup..."
Ross' face reddened. "It's true that she's beautiful and amazing, but..." He trailed off.
Buttercup's ears perked up. But what?
"I think Butch likes her too."
Both Buttercup and Butch stiffened at these words as DJ laughed, "So? You deserve her just as much as he does, if not more so! So why not just take her for your own?"
Before Ross could answer and list his reasons, there was a gunshot. Everyone froze—Butch and BC too.
"What the hell was that?" DJ muttered, spinning around on a branch. He jumped down and stood in a fighting stance, eyeing the area.
"O-Oh my goodness," Sidney squeaked.
"Guys, split up. DJ, left. Sidney, right. I'll take forward," commanded Ross.
"Dude, don't even try to trick me. Forward is where the gunshot came from," protested Deth.
Another shot sounded.
"Just go!" Ross shoved his friends away and they awkwardly jogged off, glancing back at him. After he was positive they were gone far enough, Ross started walking forward—which was where Butch and Buttercup were hiding, still pressed against each other.
Butch quickly leaped into action, shoving Buttercup aside into some bushes. She stifled a gasp as she stumbled backwards and fell on her butt. She glared upwards, but as soon as Butch's clear—even a little worried—gaze settled on her, she felt the angry words leave her throat. He actually looked regretful; caring, even. "Sorry," he mouthed. Then he was gone.
"Butch? What are you doing here? The gun—it wasn't you, was it? Tell me it wasn't you," Ross said, his voice pleading on the last words.
"It wasn't me," Butch confirmed, and Buttercup heard a sigh of relief. Butch did too. "Why are you so glad it wasn't me?"
"We may be on separate sides, but you're still my friend. I don't want to fight my friend," Ross answered. "You aren't enemy."
"Even after you found out about us and...you know who?" Butch pressed, a little hesitation to reveal more swirling around in his tone. He glanced back at Buttercup's hiding place.
His companion shook his head, brown hair blowing in the cool evening air. Night was slowly crawling towards them, claws outstretched. And yet light still lingered. "You're not the enemy," he repeated. "Trust me; I don't care about that. I don't—" His voice broke and he shook his head again.
Buttercup pushed leaves aside slightly and watched the two teens, who stood facing each other. The green Ruff's mouth was open to say something, dark-green eyes troubled and stormy; filled with regret. Then she spotted a shadow flickering nearby, and her eyes widened. When the silhouette burst out of some bushes, Buttercup jumped up without thinking. "Ross; Butch—watch out!"
Ross spun around to face her in shock as Butch cursed and turned to the shadow. The person carried a gun. It was the mystery gunner, wearing a mask. "Hell," muttered Butch.
"What are you doing here, BC?" Ross asked, stepping toward Buttercup.
"Don't move!" the gunner commanded.
Butch's eyes widened. "Harry...?" he whispered, clearly recognizing the voice.
The now not-so-mysterious anymore (although he was still unknown to Buttercup) gunner didn't deny it. "Butch; Ross," he said, nodding coldly.
The man trained his gun on Butch. "Don't move or I'll shoot. I've been employed to shoot one of you."
"Who? It better be me," growled the green Ruff.
"It is someone with green eyes and dark hair."
"Alright, that sounds like me. Then shoot me." Butch narrowed his green eyes and spread his arms wide, his dark hair blowing in the wind. "Don't hurt them."
"Why do you care so much about them? Ross isn't on your side," Harry spat. "Are you a traitor?"
"No. I just don't want anyone to hurt my friends. He's not my enemy," Butch stated, repeating what Ross had said earlier. This caused the other boy to stare at Butch in surprise.
Harry laughed almost shrilly, the voice slashing through the cooling night air like a hawk's talons ripping into flesh. "Don't be stupid. You know who his father was, and what Damon did. What started this entire war all over again. You know who Ross, the young 'star', works for."
"I do know." Butch gritted his teeth. "But the past is in the past. History doesn't need to be repeated."
"Don't be naïve." The man's voice wavered as his hands shook—whether in anger, pain, regret, unsureness, or fear—Buttercup wasn't sure. "History repeats itself. All that follows is bloodshed. No one forgives and forgets—hell, blood will spill blood if it turns out their views on Damon and Danes are different."
"Don't be so narrow-minded," retorted the green Ruff, teeth gnashing together. "I told you, Ross isn't my enemy."
"Fine then." Harry turned his gun on Buttercup, and her eyes widened.
"Shit," Butch managed to say, spinning around. "Run!"
"Buttercup!" cried Ross, stepping toward her.
"I said, DON'T MOVE!" Harry fired, but he missed.
Butch leaped upwards. "Leave them alone! It's me you want, so shoot me!"
"Don't be an idiot, Butch. You're not the only one with dark hair and green eyes." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Besides, you're on my side, you fool. Even if I'm disappointed at how twisted your views have become, I won't shoot you unless I have to. That girl was just a distraction. Ross may not be your enemy, but he is mine."
"Hell," whispered Ross, his eyes wide as realization dawned.
"I've been employed to shoot Ross," Harry said, confirming Ross' suspicions. Then he turned the gun on the young teen and pulled the trigger.
"Ross, watch out!" screeched Buttercup, eyes stretching wide as the bullet flew through the air. She and Butch both jumped upwards. Everything happened in slow motion as Ross' eyes widened and he took one pitiful, stumbling step backwards.
And then...the bullet ripped into Ross' chest.
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 4!)
ME: I am beautifully evil. There we go. Ross is the boy who gets shot! Surprise!
BUTCH: Now, who was right about the fake scene?
ME: MiyakoWulfie! Congrats! *waves hands in air, confetti blows*
BRAKER: *stops throwing confetti* But...she said all of them are real.
ME: Well, as you might be able to see... It was a trick question. *grins sheepishly, tee-hee* All three scenes were real. *holds up index finger* If I do this again, it won't always be a trick question. So don't worry.
BUTCH: ...Are you serious? *falls over*
ME: At least the last scene is the closest to being fake since while the scene happened, Butch wasn't the one shot. Ross was. So if you guessed that the last scene was fake, then you're right in a way.
BUTTERCUP: Almost wish Butch was shot.
BUBBLES: Are you saying you care about Ross more?
BUTTERCUP: I-I was being sarcastic... *blushes*
BUTCH: I knew it! You do care about me after all!
BUTTERCUP: Oh for God's sake! *punches Butch*
ME: *ignores their fighting* It's sort of an April Fools prank within itself. *winks*