CHAPTER 45: WOLF WAR
ME: Here's another chapter! I'm half-satisfied-half-not with this new chapter. *sweat-drop*
BUTCH: There's probably a lack of me.
ME: Yeah, that's probably it.
BUTCH: *surprised* You don't disagree?
ME: Well, no—why would I?
BUTCH: You're not going to yell at me for being arrogant or—? Oh, never mind.
ME: It's also missing something else... Ah, more Buttercup! More of you two together!
BUTTERCUP: I think not.
ME: Well, you two get more focus next chapter. *grins* So I only own my OC's and the story; PPG belongs to Cartoon Network and Craig McCracken; don't forget to review!
Chapter 45: Wolf War
Streaks of black flashed in his mind's eye as he found himself enwrapped in fire. He was lying on a burning pyre, hot coals beneath his back. White sparks floated in his vision and his breath felt tangled inside of his lungs, struggling to get out. Despite his inability to breathe properly, the mercy of unconsciousness wouldn't come. His skin felt scorched to the core. He could smell his own flesh burning, and it made him cringe. Smoke stung his eyes, causing them to water—or maybe that was just the thought of death that made his eyes tear up. Blisters bubbled along his arms and legs, entire swaths of skin peeling away to reveal raw tissue and bones underneath.
The pain was relentless, and an ache pounded against his skull like a drum. He swallowed hard, his throat hoarse from screaming. Please just let me die already, he pleaded. The agony didn't end, however—just as the death never came.
He struggled to sit up and pull himself away, despite how much it hurt, lifting a hand to try and push himself out of the fire. Before he could save himself though, the bed of coals gave way and he fell further down, the burning stones tumbling down all around him. It collapsed under his weight, dragging him deeper into the embers and the smoke, burying him. He opened his mouth to scream, but no words came as black began to fill his vision.
Through the darkness, he caught kind eyes and a warm smile. Whoever it was had reached their hand out to him, a haze of light swirled around them, their eyes bright and kind.
Come here, Vix...
Vix woke up with a start, gasping for air. He jolted upward and his hand flew to his heart, which was pounding against his ribcage. His limbs were tangled in his heavy red blankets, his sheets damp and cold from sweat. Even then, his skin felt white-hot to the touch from the dream—the nightmare. His throat felt scratched raw, and when he swallowed, all he could taste was smoke. Vix cringed, licking his dry lips as his eyes darted to the door.
He sat in the darkness, where faint light filtered in from the doorway. He had awoken to loud noises coming out from the halls, and while curious, he was too stunned to move just yet. Beads of sweat clung to his skin and his mouth felt parched. He shuddered, cold. Vix tried to will the nightmare away, which had been plaguing him for awhile now. He never seemed to be able to escape it, although there had been something new in the nightmare...
The kind face. The warm smile. The bright light. And the person hadn't been his parents.
It had been Damon, reaching out to him.
He rubbed his hands repeatedly over his arms and sides until he was certain the burns he'd suffered weren't real. That the fire hadn't been real. That his pain wasn't real. And while the first two weren't real, his pain was.
Vix sucked in a shaky breath through his lips, reminding himself that he was okay. He wasn't burning alive. He was safe and alone in his room.
With one last deep, trembling breath, he scooted to the other side of the mattress, away from the sweat-stained sheets. Afraid to close his eyes or even hop off the bed, he practiced his slow breathing until his heartbeat steadied.
Then he clambered out of bed, slipping his feet into red slippers. He pulled on a dark-red bathrobe and tied the belt firmly around his waist before walking to his door. He hesitated briefly before shoving it open, and suddenly the panicked voices and hurried footsteps grew louder. It surrounded him as people bustled about. Servants and doctors rushed past, carrying medical supplies. Vix glanced down the long hallway and spotted a distraught Shamus hurtling by, eyes dark with bags underneath. They were red and swollen, giving the impression that Shamus had been crying—which surprised Vix. Shamus doesn't cry. The feeling it left didn't sit well with with Vix. "What's going on?" he called, one hand on the doorknob and the other gripping the belt knot around his waist.
Shamus stopped, turning his bloodshot eyes on Vix. He opened his mouth but only a strangled whimper came out, which startled Vix. Then the man closed his eyes and tears slid down his face.
"What happened? Why are you crying?" Vix demanded, alarmed. "Is it the war? Did someone just die?"
At those words, Shamus only broke down further.
"Honestly, Vix—you can be so dense sometimes," a new voice cut in, tight and controlled.
The teen bristled at the suggestion, but he let it slide. He was too worried about other things to care about such insulting words. "What's going on, Christie?" he repeated.
Christie looked stunning as usual, her long hair down. She wore a creamy white-and-yellow nightgown with pale yellow slippers. The gown had transparent, lacy gauze at the top that formed a small jacket with bell-top sleeves. A string tied it together to the actual nightgown. Vix hated to admit it, but she did look quite appealing—especially with those smooth, bare legs. But her posture was rigid. She had her arms crossed, aqua eyes narrowed, wet from tears and dark from anger. "Harry has made a move." She spat the words out like they were poison on her tongue.
Vix paused, remembering Harry. He'd been a silent man, maybe a little judgemental, but he'd been a good acquaintance of Damon's too. Vix's heart tightened at the silent mention of Damon. He frowned. "What move was that?" he finally asked, nearly choking on the tension in the atmosphere.
"He shot Ross."
Christie's words didn't register immediately. Vix was aware of her words entering his brain and flitting about like a lost moth. He shot Ross. Shamus let out a wail of anguish, sobbing. The noise penetrated Vix's thoughts, which had become like a thick fog. His throat felt dry, his blood ran cold, and his heart seemed to stop. For a long, terrifying moment he mulled over Christie's words and tried to make sense of them. He shot Ross. Ross. Ross was shot. Suddenly, he felt grief and shock come in all at once, overtaking the confusion, and threatening to overwhelm him. "He...did what?" he whispered.
"You heard me," Christie said firmly, averting her own gaze.
Vix shook his head. "Say it again. I-I need confirmation. Th-This can't be true. Ross must be safe in his bed, like I am. I must be dreaming." He reached up with a shaky hand and pinched himself, feeling the pain blossom. He breathed in sharply. Shit, he panicked. It's really not a dream. "Please," he begged, "say it again. I need to be 100% sure."
She sighed pitifully, as if she felt bad for Vix's growing desperation. Then he realized that she must've gone through the shock and denial as well.
"Say it again," he murmured, eyes starting to sting.
"...Harry shot Ross through the chest," she finally repeated, her voice quiet and trembling.
Vix felt as though the earth had suddenly pulled out from under his feet.
It should've been me.
It should've been done by now.
Damon smiled, his sharp teeth visible as he folded his hands in front of him. "Hello, Harry?" He stared into the monitor, waiting for the static to clear.
"Hello." The voice filtered in first, broken up by buzzing as the screen flickered. A silhouette of a man appeared and disappeared beneath more static. When it finally cleared, a man with hard green eyes and short brown hair stared back at Damon. "It's done."
Damon clapped his hands together, grinning further. He didn't bother to hide his eyes, as he knew that his hood covered most of his face. Harry wouldn't recognize him anytime soon. For all he knew, Damon was dead. "Congratulations, Harry! You may come tonight to collect your payment."
"Thank you." Harry's gaze remained hard though, and it was clear he was hesitant to collect his reward. Damon had a feeling that he was questioning if what he'd done was right.
"Is there any reason you seem so troubled?" asked Damon, quirking an eyebrow.
Harry set his jaw. "I guess seeing blood spill from such a young boy was a bit...much."
"Why, Harry—you knew perfectly well what you were getting yourself into." Damon smiled demurely, flashing his canines as a sign. "And you agreed."
Realizing what the sign meant, Harry's hesitation vanished. His eyes cleared and he nodded. "Alright. I'll come for my reward tonight."
"As agreed," he said cheerfully. "Now that that's over, rest easy. Danes will probably be preparing for his next attack, but I'll make my own next move before any real damage is done."
"Are you really on our side?" Harry finally asked after a few moments of silence.
"I am on any side I wish," Damon answered.
Harry frowned, unsatisfied with the response. But then he nodded again. "Alright. Goodbye."
"Farewell," he sang, before turning the screen off. Then he spun his chair away and grabbed a nearby gun, reloading it. Damon's lips stretched in an excited grin.
He glanced down at his journal, putting a check mark beside the first part of his plan: "Shoot Ross". He glanced back at a page on one of his older journals, and his gaze immediately darkened as he skimmed it over. He scoffed. He'd been such a fool when he was younger.
Damon took the page and crumpled it slightly in his hand before tossing it aside. He would leave it here for the Rowdyruff Boys to find later; to make them think even more that he was innocent. Or maybe they'd think he was guilty.
The page fluttered to the ground, revealing a poem:
"Bright lights distract me from the pain in my heart tonight.
I lean against the railing and stare up at the night sky,
Where stars twinkle and fireworks explode.
It's the perfect night for romance,
But tonight I'm
All alone.
She's there, with him,
And the two of them are dancing and laughing
Like any other happy couple out there in the world.
Am I jealous?
I pause for a moment and consider.
Yes.
Yes, I am.
My jealousy burns deep within me, and I feel guilty as soon as it reels its ugly head to greet me,
With gaping jaws and open arms.
For a second I forget about its claws and its red eyes and its sharp teeth.
For a second I believe that accepting this jealousy, this hatred, this darkness,
Will set me free.
I always break away though.
Although...I'm starting to think I won't be able to keep this up.
If I ever hurt them, I'll never forgive myself.
But the possibility of me losing control is slowly starting to grow bigger
And bigger.
And I'm scared.
.
.
.
They don't deserve this.
I'm sorry, you two."
Damon ignored the poem as he turned back to the screens. The poem had been written at night, when Tyrone and Sylvie had been especially close and romantic. His heart broken once again, Damon had scrawled the poem with a trembling hand. Still, that seemed like ages ago, and he couldn't imagine himself ever being so weak.
Now he welcomed the jealousy with open arms.
He thought of that night, when the cabin was burning and Danes had taken Vix away. He thought of watching the flames and the blood pouring out of his gun wounds.
He remembered another fire, and his brother screaming...
He shook his head. Just like Sylvie and Tyrone, that was in the past. He wouldn't let the pain of those memories affect him anymore. ...Still, I'll never forgive them. I'll draw strength from the pain. Damon glanced down at the gun on his table and smiled.
They will pay for what they've done to me. He placed the gun in its holster and stood up. Next time, I'm hitting a little closer to home.
"HARRY! Why the fuck would you do this!? He's just a young boy!" Butch shouted at the top of his lungs.
Harry looked pale for only a second before his face hardened. "I'm just doing my job to ensure our victory. I'm sorry you don't understand, but this is for our side's own good. I hope in the future this will make more sense to you." He spun around and was already walking off.
"GET BACK HERE!" Butch lunged, grabbing onto Harry's neck as he tackled the man to the ground. "You won't get away with this!" he roared.
"Why do you care so much?" demanded Harry, struggling beneath Butch as he gasped for air. "He's not on your side, and yet you'll still defend him from me; your ally!"
"No ally of mine would inflict this sort of pain on other people," snarled the green Ruff.
"You're too simpleminded," Harry growled back, eyes flashing. "This is a cruel, tough world and there's no room for such mercy. In case you've forgotten, this battle means death."
"Harry, stop talking. Save your breath. I'm disgusted with your bullshit," Butch snapped, his fingers tightening around the man's throat.
Harry gasped for air before kicking upwards, forcing Butch off of him. He scrambled upwards, shaking. "It's not like I wanted this young blood on my hands," he whispered hoarsely, "but there's nothing I can do about it." Then he was gone, running through the undergrowth in the shadows.
Butch shot upwards, ready to chase him, when Buttercup's wail pierced the air. He turned. She'd been freaking out the entire time he and Harry had been arguing. "BC..." he murmured, a feeling of sympathy skittering into his mind.
"Let that bastard go! Don't leave me; not right now," Buttercup yelled back, eyes stretched wide and wild. Ross was bundled up in her arms, and she seemed too shocked to cry. Or maybe she was just trying to stay strong. "He's not worth it." Then she buried her face in Ross' shoulder.
"Oh shit," Butch whispered, eyes wide as he approached Ross' body. "Is he alive?"
Buttercup let out another noise which resembled a whimper or a wail.
Holding his breath, the green Ruff decided to check himself. Ross had a pulse, but it was faint and he was losing a lot of blood. "We need to get the bullet out," he whispered.
Buttercup didn't reply, her arms wrapped around Ross' body. She half-dragged half-lifted him upwards, balancing him gently in her arms, as if afraid he'd break. Butch felt a pain in his gut he didn't recognize, but figured it was just hurt for his injured friend. With that conclusion, he helped his counterpart carry a now unconscious Ross into the air.
"Where do we take him?" rasped Buttercup, glancing down at his bullet wound. It was bleeding steadily, and the red liquid shone in the moonlight. She had finally calmed down enough.
"We should take him to Michael's house," he responded, readjusting Ross' position so that it'd be more comfortable. He swallowed hard, feeling sick. "I just hope they won't blame us for this."
"Why would they do that?" she asked, clearly befuddled. Her confusion was made worse with the panicked muddiness that was blocking her sensibility.
He just shook his head. "Never mind; let's just hurry."
It took only a few minutes to fly to Michael's mansion, which glittered in the darkness. Butch landed and told Buttercup to stay where she was. She let out a small whimper but didn't protest, holding Ross close. Butch felt that pang again as he approached the door.
The person who answered was a servant, who immediately recognized Butch. "We don't allow your kind here unless you have an invitation," she said coldly.
He twitched in annoyance, trying to keep calm. He gestured to the front yard, where Buttercup was huddled over Ross. "I have something Danes and especially Shamus deserve to see."
The maid didn't believe him until she saw Ross' body. Then she let out a loud cry and stumbled backwards, away from Butch in anger and fear.
He put his hands up. "I didn't do it, I swear! But I need you to get him help."
She let out an unintelligible noise and rushed away, gathering her skirts. Butch watched her go, before turning to Buttercup. She turned her wide, lime-green eyes toward him, and he gulped when he saw her tears.
The maid returned in five minutes with Shamus and Danes right behind her. She was still blubbering, eyes wide and her hands shaking. Shamus and Danes didn't seem to fully understand what was going on, as Michael's uncle turned disgusted eyes on Butch. "Why are you here?" he demanded. "Your kind is not welcome in my house."
"I know that! I'm not stupid enough to walk into enemy territory without any back-up or weapons," Butch exclaimed in frustration. "I came here to get help."
Danes' eyes hardened. "Why would I want to help you?"
Butch let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, it's not for me." He swallowed hard, not yet ready for the big reveal. He was afraid of what they'd say; what they'd do. He was afraid of what they'd think. Butch was in the heart of enemy territory, and he was all too aware of the unfamiliar surroundings. He could feel walls closing in on him, even though he was outside.
"Well?" demanded Shamus. Butch turned to stare, wide-eyed at Ross' uncle, who'd probably be the most upset with the news. And yet, despite his tone, Shamus' eyes were gentle, calm, and concerned.
Butch took a deep breath, still not fully prepared. "...I'm here to tell you that your nephew has just been shot."
There was only silence that met his words, and a cold wind blew in as Buttercup let out another whimper. Then Shamus was running, disbelief driving him toward where the green Puff was still holding Ross. He let out a loud cry of agony that shook Butch to the bones, and he felt pity for the man who had already lost so much.
Another thing that shook him to the bones was the sudden lack of air as he was forced into a wall by someone's arms. Butch winced and opened his eyes, meeting the glare of Danes. "How did this happen?" he snarled.
Butch struggled to speak. "I was with Buttercup when we heard Ross and his friends. There was a gunshot and Ross stayed behind while Sidney and DJ left. Then we talked to him before he was shot..." It was only then that he realized they'd left DJ and Sidney alone in the forest, probably terrified because of the screaming and gunshots they must've heard. They'd also be terrified when they found blood on the grass but no body.
Danes narrowed his eyes and loosened his grip, but only a little. He lowered Butch an inch, fingers still gripping the boy's shirt. "Tell me exactly what happened," he snarled, his breath blowing into Butch's face, "while you still have a jaw."
He gulped in some much-needed air. "Look, it was never my intention to hurt Ross. I didn't do any of this! I wanted to protect him."
Danes was silent for only a heartbeat, eyes still narrowed. Then: "Tell me everything."
Bandit panted heavily, eyes darting from side to side. He could barely make out the battlefield, what with the clouds of dust and tangled masses. He and his brothers (minus Brick, who was still unconscious, and Butch, who was with Buttercup) crouched behind a concrete wall, hands and eyes glowing in the darkness. Bandit's own hands were lit up with purple.
Given their superpowers, he and his brothers had gone into battle that night without a gun. Bandit almost regretted that decision, even though he knew that his superpowers were more than enough to fight against gunmen. Blaster fired a couple of golden energy blasts at the enemies, his eyes narrowed in anger and hatred. Blaster seemed to be fighting harder than usual.
"Watch out!" Bandit called. Blaster ducked down just as the bullets flew past their heads. Then the purple Rowdyruff aimed and shot a purple Chinese dragon made from energy at a couple of men, causing them to scream and shout as water rained down on them. "Braker, now!" the purple Ruff yelled.
His brother didn't respond immediately, eyes distant and dark. He'd been in a foul mood for awhile.
Bandit scowled and nudged his brother with his foot. "Now!" he repeated.
Snapping out of it, Braker's hands glowed and he shot a blast of projectiles made from energy at the men. Braker was an excellent shooter, even when distracted.
"Careful," warned Bandit, eyeing the enemy line with a watchful eye. Without Brick acting as their leader, Bandit had had to plan everything, and each decision scared him. If he made one wrong choice, then his brothers would be in danger.
Braker grunted to show that he'd heard Bandit, before glancing over the concrete wall. "They're drawing back."
"Cowards," spat Blaster, eyes dark. He snarled.
"Calm down, Blaster. Don't get too overworked." Bandit still didn't understand why his sweet brother was acting so violent lately. While the yellow Ruff had an awful temper, it hardly ever came out unless he was really upset.
There was a loud cry from the other side, and Bandit could hear thudding footsteps. "What?" he gasped, eyes dilating in the darkness. "They're coming back!"
"Shit," cursed Boomer, scrambling upwards and firing blue energy balls at them. The blue Rowdyruff Boy's forehead was slick with sweat, and his hands shook.
Bandit swallowed back a cry of frustration, instead digging his nails into his flesh. "Alright, time for Maneuver B Part 2."
Blaster and Boomer nodded, but Braker didn't respond.
"Braker, did you hear me? Maneuver B Part 2!" Bandit called, his voice rising.
"I can't," Braker finally muttered.
"What...?"
"I can't concentrate. I can't think." Braker raked a hand through his brown hair, orange eyes dull. He looked pale beneath the moon. "Just do some move without me."
"Don't," whispered Bandit. "This is the most logical choice for our next attack. Don't make this harder for me; please—"
Braker shook his head apologetically. "I can't," he repeated. "I'm sorry."
Bandit bit back a snapped retort, instead spinning around. "Guys, we have to switch to Maneuver F Part 1—" He froze.
Boomer was struggling against someone, who'd snuck up on them without warning. It was Coal, gun in hand. The blue Rowdyruff Boy hit his enemy hard, sending the tall man flying.
"Wait!" cried Bandit, jumping up just as Coal cocked his gun and aimed.
There was a long stretch of still shock as the gun fired. A bullet flew through the air, spinning as it neared the group of people.
Then it hit Braker.
The orange Ruff let out a cry of pain and fell backwards, slipping on the gravel as he hit the ground hard. Bandit let out a sharp gasp just as Braker's head met the pavement, his noise masking the scraping slam of Braker and the pavement meeting each other. For a moment no one moved.
Then Blaster screamed and lunged, tackling Coal to the ground. Bandit closed his eyes and tried to will the image of Braker's bleeding gun wound out of his head, along with the sounds of crunching as Blaster's fists contacted Coal's face.
"Bandit, we need you to make a decision!" Boomer yelled, grabbing his purple-eyed brother by the arm and shaking him. Nearby, Blaster was screeching at Coal to give Braker back.
When Bandit opened his eyes, he saw Coal lying beneath Blaster, quickly falling unconscious as blood dribbled down his nose and mouth. Blaster's eyes were flaming red, lips twisted open in an angry scream. Bandit glanced back at Braker, who was unconscious.
"Fuck," he whispered.
"We need you to make a decision," Boomer repeated, eyes flickering toward Blaster, who had now grabbed Coal's collar and was shaking him violently. "Blaster's lost control and Braker's..." He hesitated.
Bandit took a deep breath and nodded, eyes hardening despite his pain and growing panic. He was losing control. "Grab Blaster and pull him off of Coal. He's not going to stop anytime soon, but the man's going to lose consciousness if this keeps up. I'll take Braker with me."
Boomer nodded and hurried to pry the still screeching Blaster off of Coal, while Bandit forced his legs to move. He pulled Braker up and checked the gun wound. The orange Ruff had been lucky, having taken a gunshot to his side. It had missed any vital organs. Bandit's breaths trembled as he plucked the bullet from Braker's side, dragging him upwards. Even with super-strength, Braker felt heavy in Bandit's arms, body limp and breaths shallow.
Boomer had managed to hook his arms underneath Blaster's armpits, and the yellow Ruff was flailing and screaming. Coal was smirking despite being seconds from unconsciousness, his face swollen. He had a black eye, bloody nose, cut lip, and bruised cheeks, but he looked victorious.
More soldiers on the Ruffs' side had fallen, and Danes' men were already claiming their victory. Bandit cursed as he carried Braker into the air to avoid the carnage. He knew that there was nothing more he could do there. The people on his side would either die or escape with life-threatening wounds.
Boomer dragged Blaster into the air, who was still kicking. When they were high enough though, Blaster fell limp against Boomer and started crying. This was more like the brother Bandit knew, but the tears broke his heart even more than the anger Blaster had displayed did. Boomer turned to look at Bandit.
The purple Ruff licked his dry lips and felt his own wounds, which ached but felt like nothing compared to Braker's gunshot. "We've lost this battle," he whispered hoarsely.
"Madame," Deth Jackson Jr said charmingly, opening the car door. He bowed low and reached his hand out.
Bliss felt her breath escape her as she stepped out of his limo, her hand in his. DJ had suggested a semi-formal date for their first date in order to see how it would go. Even then, the place he had chosen was expensive and quite reclusive.
DJ held his arm out to her and she hooked her own arm in. He was smiling slightly at her wondrous expression, but it didn't hide his own worries too well. "Only the best for you," he whispered.
Bliss couldn't help but smile back, albeit weakly. She needed the distraction. It was only one day after her interview with Deth, and one day after her talk with Braker. She'd wanted to apologize, but Braker hadn't been in school. The rest of the Ruffs had been silent and distant, eyes dark. Even Blossom, who was staying with the Ruffs, didn't know what had happened to them.
When Bliss had asked her, Blossom had said, "They didn't come home until 3:00 am. I would know because I didn't sleep till 2:00 and I never heard them come in. Braker wasn't there for breakfast, which isn't like him. I was with Brick the whole night. The rest of the Ruffs were covered in bandages and wounds when I ate with them, and there was a lack of cheerfulness in the atmosphere. While they've been pretty down these past few days, I've never seem them so devastated."
Buttercup had been upset too, eyes swollen when she'd come home from being with Butch. Bliss had thought that Butch had done something wrong, but Buttercup had shaken her head. All she'd explained was that some gunman had shown up from those "stupid gang wars" and shot Ross. When Bliss heard that, she felt panicked inside. Even Butch had been upset about Ross' shooting, and none of Michael's friends had been very happy either.
Bliss' stomach tightened. She hoped Braker and Ross were okay. DJ had been upset all day too, but he'd put on a smile for their date, which Bliss found hard to imitate. But she knew DJ was doing it for her, because she wasn't all that close to Ross and wouldn't understand his pain, so he put on a brave face. She admired him for that. Before she could wonder further, she'd been swept down the red carpet and into the reclusive restaurant. Bliss felt out-of-place among the high, high middle-class citizens and rich people. They were all dressed fancily, and even though she knew she looked pretty good, she still didn't feel pretty enough.
Her long brown hair was tied back in a braid, and she wore a silver-and-orange sequinned dress-top that had been designed exclusively for her by Banana. Her heart fluttered as she sat down, her turquoise bracelets and necklace jangling.
DJ smiled gently at her. "Relax," he offered. He wore a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up and black jeans. A black tie dangled from his collar. Bracelets adorned his wrist and he wore a toque.
She nodded thankfully and noticed that her hands were trembling. She forced them to stay still.
He reached out and took her hand, gently caressing it with a sigh. Then he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I need this distraction just as much as you do," he murmured.
Bliss felt her heart skip a beat.
"Now, what would you like to order?" DJ pulled back, but he didn't let go of her hand immediately. When his hand fell away, a waitress had appeared by his side.
"Good evening, sir; what would you like to drink?" the girl asked, her long black hair tied back in a bun.
"I'll have the 'Blood-Red Tomato Juice Special', please." DJ inclined his head toward Bliss. "And you?"
"I'd like a root beer, please." She nodded thankfully as the waitress took their orders.
"And you need more time to think about your food?" the waitress asked.
"Yes, please." DJ nodded and the woman nodded back before turning heel. He turned back to the menu. "I'm thinking of the Blood Steak."
"That's not real blood on the steak though, right?" She tilted her head to one side and tried to remember. "Wasn't it...m-m—"
"'Myoglobin'?" he finished, flashing a grin. "That's relatively true. It's just a medium-rare steak."
She nodded in understanding. "Okay then. Well, I think I'd like the French Onion Soup and the..." Bliss trailed off, blushing. "I kind of want the Cheese Toast for Two as well... It's an appetizer for—well—two. Would you mind sharing?"
"Not at all," DJ answered swiftly. "I was also thinking of adding a traditional Spaghetti and Meatballs to the meal. We can share that too."
Bliss nodded in response, so DJ lifted his hand. The waitress returned, carrying two drinks that she set down on the table. "What is it that you wish to order, Sir?"
"One French Onion Soup and a Cheese Toast for Two, please. I'd also like Spaghetti and Meatballs as well as a medium-rare Blood Steak."
She nodded and wrote the orders down. "Your steak is accompanied by your choice of baked potato, hand cut french fries, mashed potatoes or rice pilaf, Sir. What would you like?"
DJ paused to think for a moment before choosing the hand cut french fries. The waitress thanked them for placing their orders, took their menus, and disappeared.
"It's quite beautiful in here," Bliss remarked, surveying the room in wonder.
The restaurant was fancy, but not over-the-top. A huge chandelier hung above them, decorated with ornate crystals that reflected light and cast rainbows on the dark walls. There were fake ivy vines made from silver metal, which snaked up columns that supported the ceiling. A bar was nearby, with a dance floor that only a few people were currently on. The tables were futuristically shaped like smooth circles, and were black (sort of like a rock). More fake, silver vines lined the middle of the black walls, this time resembling grape vines. Abstract art lined the walls, adding a splash of colour (usually red). Red velvet curtains hung from doors and windows. The chairs were black with red velvet on top, and the futuristic tables had a small red tablecloth draped over them, acting like a large placemat. From the ceiling hung long spikes made from dangling crystals carved to look like stalactites. The floor had spikes too, shaped like stalagmites, but there wasn't nearly as many—probably for safety reasons. The floor was soft red carpet specked with black.
"This almost looks like a cave," Bliss mused, amazed by the sight.
"You should see the small pools of crystal-clear water they have too," DJ replied with a proud smirk, pointing to an example. The main, largest one close to the entrance had a waterfall that flew off of black, crystalline rock. "They've even got hot springs here."
"Wow!" she exclaimed, surprised. "It's beautiful."
Deth looked amused at her wonder and awe, as he himself came to the restaurant so often he'd began to take it for granted. "Not as beautiful as you."
Bliss blushed and tucked stray strands of her long brown hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious about how messy her hair must be and just how she looked in general. She was about to comment awkwardly on something (anything), when someone appeared at their table.
It was the waitress, setting down their food. Then someone else was suddenly standing in front of them, but clearly not dressed as one of the staff. The person was wearing a golden sequinned dress. It wasn't very long—it hung just above the girl's knees, decorated with purple frills on the bottom of the skirt and the collar of the top. Pearls acted as both a belt and necklace, and the newcomer wore golden high heels. Her red, puffy hair was tied back in two pigtails, and she wore a crown. "Bliss, DJ! Is that you?"
"Princess?" said Bliss, surprised to see her friend (even though she shouldn't have been). She was mostly surprised that her and DJ's date would correspond with Princess' trip here at all, but she was also mildly surprised to see Princess somewhere fancy but not too overdone. Even though the rich girl had changed her spoiled, bratty ways, she still preferred overdone things—but sometimes she would surprise Bliss, when Bliss expected otherwise.
"In the flesh!" Princess did a little twirl and a curtsy, her head bobbing gracefully as if she were swimming.
"Ah, hey, Princess! It's nice to see you. It's been awhile," exclaimed DJ, standing up to shake her hand.
Princess ignored the hand and grabbed him in a tight but sophisticated embrace, grinning widely. Her freckles looked like golden sparkles when her face lit up. "It has been awhile! How is your dad? I heard he came back," she asked as she pulled away.
Bliss felt a twinge of jealousy which she furiously stamped out immediately. She had no reason to be jealous; Princess already had a boyfriend—Mitch. She figured the graceful hug was a courteous way of saying hello for rich people, most likely. And besides that... I do I care so much whether or not DJ likes someone? She clenched her hands into fists and didn't hear the rest of the conversation until Princess called her name.
"Bliss? Bliss~?" When her friend snapped into focus, the redhead smiled apologetically. "Sorry! I guess DJ and I got carried away chatting. You must feel really bored."
"It's fine," Bliss managed to force out between clenched teeth, surprised and frustrated at how taut her muscles felt.
Princess waved her hand to dismiss Bliss' remark, instead saying, "No, no; if you two are on a date, then I don't want to intrude. But I am curious. What got you two so interested in one another?"
Before the orange Puff could reply, Deth smirked, "Bliss had to interview me. She was so fascinated with me she asked to go on a date."
Princess stifled a giggle and Bliss stared at DJ, mortified. Still, it was refreshing. She was relaxing. DJ was relaxing; probably for the first time since Ross' shooting. He'd just done something that Braker would usually do—make an arrogant joke. Bliss thought back to Braker and worry clenched her gut. He had been upset with her, which meant she no longer saw his smirk. And then he'd vanished altogether, which only caused more concern. It didn't help that the Ruffs wouldn't say anything.
"I don't believe you," Princess laughed.
"Ah, Your Majesty, you wound me so," DJ announced dramatically, clapping his hand over his heart. He closed his eyes to enhance the image of pain. After a few moments, he opened one sky-blue eye and smirked, making it look like he was winking. "Just kidding."
Princess burst into giggles. "Knew it!"
"Actually, the interview part was true, but I'm the one who asked Bliss on a date," admitted the boy, chuckling. "She interested me, not the other way around."
"Th-That's not entirely true." Bliss froze as soon as the words left her lips, and her mind scrambled to pull them back. But it was too late. Both Princess and DJ were staring at her. "Well, I mean, I thought you were pretty...n-nice." She mentally face-palmed for the dumbest, vaguest, most commonly used compliment she could have gone for.
DJ did exactly what she thought he would: he laughed. But it wasn't a mocking laugh as she had feared and even expected, or a gentle and comforting laugh she'd hoped for. Instead, it was brimming with amusement. "Thanks, Bliss. I really appreciate it." He flashed his pearly whites.
Her entire face scorching, Bliss turned to Princess and asked in a tone that turned out more demanding than she wanted it to be, "Enough about me. How did you two meet?"
"Princess loved me, obviously. She used to send me tons of chocolate and cards demanding I marry her." DJ kicked his feet up onto the table, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. He looked easygoing and even cool, although it was a far cry from the gentleman he'd been portraying all night. He only lowered his feet when a waiter shot him a look.
"Is that true?" Bliss turned to Princess, but her friend was already smacking Deth's shoulder.
"Don't make it sound so creepy!" she exclaimed, the gentle hit leaving only a tingle on his skin. "And I didn't love you. I had a crush on you for a little bit." Her face burned. "Don't give her the wrong idea."
"What's the matter? You already have a boyfriend, don't you? And I doubt Bliss will get jealous. Plus, you don't need to worry about reputation as much anymore."
"Oh, don't be like that." Princess rolled her eyes and placed a hand on her hip.
"Be like what?" DJ innocently batted his eyes.
"That." She poked him in the forehead. "And for the record, the crush lasted awhile, but it wasn't like more than six months or a year." She turned to look at Bliss, and Bliss realized that Princess was trying to deny these things just for her.
DJ scoffed, shrugging innocently. "Oh come on, Prinny. It's not so bad if I decide to tease you, now is it?"
Princess ignored him as she focused on Bliss. "Our fathers do business together occasionally," she explained, "so DJ and I naturally ran into each other at a fairly young age. His friend Michael also does business with my dad, and DJ's family is connected to Michelle and Michael's families.* We also had other friends in the networks."
"That's all terribly confusing," remarked Bliss, raising an eyebrow.
"Not really," DJ replied nonchalantly, flashing another easy grin. "It's real simple when you get used to it. Think of it as a spider's web, or a wolf pack, or a colony of bats."
Bliss gave the boy a funny look, intrigued by his comparisons and yet equally confused. "...Spiders, wolves, and bats...?" she repeated blankly.
He chuckled again, sipping at his drink. "Yes, well...we're like a network of regal animals. How's about that?"
"Alright." Bliss leaned back in her chair and watched as Princess turned around.
"I should go," the redhead exclaimed. "Our food should be ready soon and Daddy will hate it if I come back late."
"What guests are you having this time?" questioned Deth Jr, holding long strands of black hair back with his hand.
"Dad's treating the Buxaplenty family, the Northwest family, as well as the Biskit family, the Stilton family, and some others today—basically it's a party of rich people**," Princess explained over her shoulder as she wandered back to her table, which wasn't far. She gave a little wave and then she was sitting back down, smiling politely.
Bliss ran her gaze over the people crowded around Princess' table, seeking out young and well-dressed teenagers.
A young boy was dressed in a white suit and red bowtie, with slicked back blond hair.
Beside him sat another platinum blond, this one with big hair and hoop earrings. Her silky, ruffled dress was mostly purple and hot pink.
There were two girls who looked quite bored, chewing on gum and looking at their phones. They were obviously twins—dressed in matching but slightly different dresses. Two chinchillas peeked out of each of their bags. One of the sisters had white hair, and the other had black hair. Both of their eyes were pink.
Two girls sat side-by-side, one with curly red hair in turquoise clothes, and the other with blond hair in purple clothes. Both of them were dressed fancily, but their outfits also resembled a horse rider's outfit.
Then there were two whispering girls, one who was quite pale and the other had skin that looked almost pink beneath the lights. One of them had dark hair tied in a braid with blue glasses, and the other had swirly hair. They were whispering and giggling.
There was also a redheaded boy with goggles and a black button-up, who was looking at his phone. Bliss recognized him...
"That's Remy Buxaplenty," DJ explained, pointing at the almost sad-looking blond male. "I heard he gets lonely sometimes."
"And that girl beside him? They almost look like siblings," murmured the orange Puff.
"Oh, that's Pacifica Northwest. She used to be kinda bitchy but she's actually alright now."
"What about them?" asked Bliss, gesturing at the twins.
"That's Whittany and Brittany Biskit. They're an interesting duo. Sometimes they get on my nerves 'cause they're such stereotypical rich girls, but they're pretty entertaining and interesting once you get to know them." DJ shrugged.
Bliss nodded thoughtfully. "And those two?" she pressed, glancing at the girls who were eyeing the crowd in silence.
"That's Zoe and Chloe. They're a little annoying, but they can be nice." DJ sipped at his drink and took a bite from his meal.
"And those two younger girls?"
"Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon. Weird names; kinda bratty girls."
"And I know the last guy. Jack Spicer; wimpy, genius inventor. He tried to date Blossom and even dated Princess before," laughed Bliss.***
He chuckled too. "Looks like he didn't exactly win those battles..." Then he paused. "But enough about them," her date interjected, grinning broadly as he took her hand and kissed it gently. "Tonight, it's just you and me, so let's focus on us."
She felt the shiver run down her spine as she smiled back almost shyly and nodded.
His skin felt like ice beneath her hands, except for where he was damp and warm from bleeding. She bit her lip and tried not to imagine what had caused so much damage, but she was doing a rather poor job of not imagining it all.
He glanced back at her, dark-blue eyes obviously concerned as his gaze met hers. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, hair falling into his worried face. His usual pale skin was now penetrated by a deep scratch down from his temple to his lip, a stark contrast against his smooth, clear skin. His fingers tightened around hers, eyes searching her face. "The blood isn't bothering you, is it?"
"N-No!" I should be asking you the same question," she cried, cheeks warm. She ran her fingers down another fresh cut that trickled over his forearm, causing his fingers to twitch.
"I'm fine," he replied calmly, but the pain was obvious. More than one scrape and scratch adorned his olive skin, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing. "I'm used to it."
"But that's so awful!" she cried, brow furrowed in concern. "What happened?"
"I was babysitting a cat, that's all," he answered promptly in a calm tone, but it sounded forced.
She blinked in disbelief. "Darkai, you don't need to hide things from me."
He shook his head. "Bunny—I'm sorry. I can't tell you." His gaze softened and his hand tightened around hers again. "I know you don't want this, and I hate to disappoint you, but...I can't. Remember when I said Bandit wasn't entirely in the wrong for avoiding you? ...I meant it."
Bunny felt her own eyes soften, in disappointment and mild understanding. "I see," she whispered.
"I'm sorry." He kissed her forehead gently. "Please don't be mad at me."
"As long as you don't push me out like Bandit did, I don't really mind. Honestly." She bit her lip and averted her eyes. "Plus...I can't stay mad at you."
He rested his forehead against hers, and she could see the new cut down the side of his face quite clearly. It was crusted with blood, but had grown flakey over the hours. "I hate doing this to you," he admitted. "I understand how Bandit feels. I want to protect you too, but he has more self-control than me. I can't even stay away from you; even though I know I should. But if I hurt you..."
"Don't say that!" She grabbed his hands and swallowed hard, eyes wide. "With Bandit avoiding me, it feels so lonely, because he refused my help. I'm glad you accept my offers, and I don't want you to push me away too! I-I..." She trailed off, eyes wet and glistening as she choked on her words when they sat too heavily on her parched tongue. "I don't know what I'd do."
"Bunny..." His gaze softened and he used his thumb to wipe any tears away. "Don't cry. I'm here for you. I promise. I don't want to hurt you—physically or emotionally."
She grasped his wrist as his hand lingered over her cheek, closing her wet eyes. "That's what's different about you and Bandit... He's willing to hurt me emotionally to 'protect' me physically, but you want to fully protect me. And I really appreciate it, Darkai... It makes me feel safe; protected—more than avoiding me ever could. Now I'm content not to pry too far into your dangerous secrets if it means you'll be here to protect and care about me. Make me feel wanted. Make me not lonely anymore."
"Make you feel loved," he finished in a murmur, leaning forward to kiss her nose. He pulled away, eyes dark and warm and pools of desire. "And I promise I will."
Bunny felt her breath hitch. "Darkai..."
He managed to lift the corners of his lips a little, looking almost guilty. "I'm being selfish."
"I don't care—I mean, I-I'm being selfish too and I want you here with me," she insisted bravely, leaning against his body, careful to avoid his new injuries. She rubbed a bruise gently, using her healing powers as she added, "You make me feel wanted. Like I belong."
Darkai paused, closing his eyes too as he let his body fall limp beneath her gentle, healing caresses. "And you do that for me. Thank you."
"No, thank you." Bunny planted a kiss on the largest new scratch down his face from temple to lip, her own lips gentle and tingling with warmth.
He stiffened before melting beside her, hair falling over the cut as he reached up and carefully rubbed it. "You're beautiful," he whispered as more of his wounds healed.
She blushed. "Thanks." Then she stood, having a hard time meeting his gaze. "Here's your shirt." She bit her lip.
Darkai paused again, looking almost hesitant as he met her eyes. He almost looked like he didn't want to leave. But the look vanished so quickly, Bunny wondered if she'd only imagined it. He took his shirt, pulled it on, and nodded slightly before vanishing.
Bunny sighed and slipped on her purple jacket, bundling her darker purple scarf around her neck. She opened the infirmary door and flew out of the school. The school looked dark and empty with no one inside, but Darkai had said it was urgent they meet right away. Bunny could see why—his new wounds were questionable, much worse than his usual ones. She wondered what kind of fights he might have gotten into, worry clawing at her stomach.
It wasn't until she heard screams that Bunny realized her thoughts had drifted from Darkai's wounds to his warm and gentle touch.
She blushed and stopped flying, looking around for the source of the screaming. What she found made her jaw drop. She wasn't far from home, but it was late and the fact that it was those two made her heart race...
The two people below were Bandit and Bliss.
Bunny landed nearby, watching as Bliss jabbed a finger at Bandit. The purple Puff wanted to learn more before having to confront the two angry teens.
"What do you mean I should just get lost? Don't you dare fucking speak that way to me, Bandit Jojo! No wonder Bunny doesn't like you anymore! All you are is an inconsiderate asshole!"
Bunny gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She could practically see Bandit's anger flying off of him in waves. A vein popped as his stance tightened, shoulders raised to his ears, arms stiff as he shook a hand at Bliss. "I am not a fucking asshole! What part of 'for your own good' do you not understand!?"
"What part of 'I don't give a shit' do you not understand!?"
"I swear to dear God, Bliss—you are as bitchy as they come!"
"WHAT!?"
"You heard me!"
"Fine then! You're more than just an asshole—you're also a stinky, dumb pizza grease stain of an asshole!"
"'Stinky, dumb pizza'—THE FUCK IS THAT EVEN SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?"
"I don't know! You tell me! Aren't you the logical one? OH WAIT—I FORGOT—your logic is always so off! 'I'm avoiding you for your own good'? That's not a fucking decent excuse—that's not a fucking excuse period!"
"YEAH WELL IT'S NOT MY GODDAMN FAULT YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME."
"WHY SHOULD I!?"
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, BLISS—"
"Umm...guys?"
Both of them stopped, the veins on their necks having started bulging from the strain of screaming. They were inches from each other's faces. They froze when they saw the wide-eyed girl in a purple hoodie.
"Bunny?" gasped Bliss, her voice falling quiet. Suddenly everything seemed to silent with the lack of shouting. Only echoes rang around them.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Bandit, a little less gentle than Bliss.
The orange Puff glared at him and marched toward her sister, grabbing her wrist. "Come on; let's leave Mr. Pooperson McPoopy Pants behind—"
"Bliss, wait." Bunny took a deep, steadying breath as she dared to look into Bandit's eyes. She could make out his barely contained anger and the obvious disdain, but there was more... She could also see worry and sadness. Maybe even guilt. "I want to talk to him."
"What?" Her sister's mouth dropped open and she clamped it shut a second later. "Bunny, he won't listen to reason! He's still spouting that bullshit about—"
"Bliss, just wait," Bunny repeated firmly. Her sister's jaw snapped shut at the unusual certainty in the purple Puff's usually quivering voice.
Bandit blinked in surprise, staring at Bunny like she'd grown actual rabbit ears. He bowed his head, and he suddenly looked tired and defeated, as if arguing with Bliss had drained the last of his energy.
"Bandit, we need to talk."
"Go ahead," he muttered, still staring at the ground beneath his feet. He risked a look up, the eye not hidden behind his spiky hair meeting hers in the moonlight. "Talk." Then he looked back down.
"Why were you two arguing?"
"Bandit saw me coming out of the restaurant with DJ because he's a creep—"
"I'm actually a concerned friend who happened to be passing by," Bandit interrupted flatly.
"—and he followed me home because he's a creep"—here she shot him a warning glare, as if daring him to interrupt again. Bandit rolled his eyes before she continued—"and when DJ left, he came out of nowhere yelling at me to stay away from Deth. Of course I said no, and suddenly he's all mad at me and shouting for no apparent reason—"
Bandit's head suddenly snapped upwards as his eyes flamed. "I never yell at someone for no reason! You're the one who's as clueless as all f—"
"Bandit, please!" exclaimed Bunny.
The purple Ruff paused, before narrowing his eyes and growling. He looked back down.
Bliss frowned. "Well, I obviously got mad and started yelling back. I think we argued for three minutes, voices rising as we got nowhere." She pouted. "I kept asking what his deal was, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Bandit, will you tell us the problem now?" Bunny asked carefully, gazing at her counterpart. She made sure her gaze was sincere and warm and patient.
He glanced up at her and met her eyes. He opened his mouth before closing it. A second passed, and then he muttered, "Fine."
"What? How did you—?" Bliss grabbed her sister's arm but Bandit immediately started talking, interrupting the orange Puff. She didn't get to finish her sentence or hear an answer from Bunny, instead being only able to shoot a glare at Bandit.
"I got mad at Bliss because she's hanging out with someone dangerous," Bandit explained, his voice even and calm. Besides the chilliness of his tone, nothing suggested that he'd been yelling at the top of his lungs only moments before. "And she seems to be enjoying it, despite Braker's feelings—"
"What feelings? It's not like he likes me! I already asked him and he denied it." Bliss threw her hands into the air.
"Did he really?" Bandit raised an eyebrow as if he couldn't believe how stupid the orange Powerpuff Girl was.
She paused. Bandit had a point—Braker had only said he didn't know whether or not he was jealous—he hadn't talked at all about feelings. "Are you saying that Braker does like me that way?" She swallowed hard.
"I don't know. Maybe." He shrugged before pausing. "Honestly, if he does, I don't know what he sees in y—"
"Bandit!" gasped Bunny.
He rolled his eyes and stopped talking as Bliss smiled and smashed an angry fist into the ground. The ground cracked beneath her knuckles as shadows danced across her smiling face. "Excuse me? Could you repeat that?" she sang, a hint of challenge in her voice.
"Ugh. Fuck it." Bandit folded his arms and leaned against a tree, his eyes boring into Bunny's as he spoke. "I guess it's not entirely her fault, but I can't stand to see her with DJ when Braker is... When he's..." He trailed off.
This caught Bliss' attention. She perked up, eyes widening. "What? He's what?"
More hesitation swirled around Bandit and he frowned. Then he shook his head. "I can't tell you."
"This again!? Oh my God, I swear—" She threw her hands into the air and was about to start yelling again, until Bunny quickly intervened.
"Bliss, wait!" she cried, which seemed to be becoming a new catchphrase. She turned to look at Bandit. "Please tell us what's happened to Braker."
Bandit's hesitation didn't disappear, but it did lift a little. "Alright, fine," he sighed, "but you're not going to like it."
"Jesus, Bunny—how do you keep calming this brute—"
Bandit interrupted Bliss again. "Braker's in sort of a pickle right now. He's gotten himself into some trouble we don't know if he can get himself out of."
Bunny and Bliss exchanged confused and concerned glances, before turning back to him. "What do you mean?" they asked.
"I just...I can't right now because Braker's been hurt. I don't want anyone else to be hurt." His voice broke. "I'm more scared than ever of being leader."
"Bandit," Bliss said, her tone the softest it had been the entire talk, "what happened to Braker?"
Another pause as he gulped in air. Then a whisper: "Braker's been shot."
"This won't work," the redheaded male panted, hands pressed against the mirror. "Not right now."
"We have to try," he replied insistently.
"We haven't fully recovered from sending Blossom out of our head yet."
"Are you—I mean am I—ugh whatever—are you always this pessimistic?"
"I like to call it being realistic."
He rolled his eyes and pressed a hand to the mirror. "Honestly, we have to at least try."
"Fine then. Let's try."
He gritted his teeth, frustrated that the other boy was acting so tough despite his obvious weak state. "Alright. Look, we're both Brick, trying to escape his own head, so can't we at least try and work together?"
"Sorry. I'm just growing more and more impatient." The other Brick dragged a hand through his long red hair, eyes dull. He was still slumped and weak, but he'd grown a little stronger after Blossom had been sent away. The tiredness remained though, lingering around him like a ghost.
Amnesiac Brick was also tired, but a lot better off than his mirror self. He was exhausted, bones aching every time he moved, but he was at least recovering fast. The other Brick's recovery was slower because of his already weakened state, but his attitude was quickly returning.
They both planted their hands onto the mirror, concentrating hard.
Amnesiac Brick dared to look at his other self briefly before saying, "If you're getting impatient, that's all the more reason for us to try and get back to the real world."
His other self didn't reply as their hands and eyes glowed. The mirror glowed as well, and soon the three (two Brick's and one mirror) were all shining in the darkness. Wind whirled around them, and the water on the ground stirred.
Amnesiac Brick furrowed his brow. We can do this, he told himself. Sweat dripped down his chin.
The glow soon turned blinding, bright like a small sun in Brick's darkened mind. At first the two Brick's could feel themselves being lifted from the ground and dared to think it was working, but then something happened.
One of them felt a sharp stab of pain and let out a cry, concentration breaking. They stopped floating and crashed to the ground, causing a loud splash as they were blasted back. The other Brick stumbled too and his focus broke, causing him to fall down as he also got shot backwards, panting hard. The overexertion had clearly taken its toll on both of them. For awhile they just lay there, struggling to catch their breaths and get up.
Amnesiac Brick grabbed at the ground, hands fumbling around in the shallow water. His head had hit the water along with his body, causing a splitting headache that came with a nice, large bump. "What happened?" he demanded, voice slurred.
The other Brick was struggling just to breathe, still on his side, having given up on thrashing upwards. His red hair flowed out behind him in the water like a fire. He was lying on his side, half-submerged with an arm on his chest. "Fuck," he whispered. "I felt a sharp jab of pain and lost concentration."
Amnesiac Brick bit his lip, eyes still trying to focus as he pushed himself up on shaky limbs. "That's concerning."
"Yeah, but I can keep going." The other Brick winced as he forced himself up, but his arms shook so much he crashed back down with a splash. Groaning, he slowly pushed himself up with his elbows and hands, feeling his body protesting loudly in sharp pain. He staggered slightly.
"No, don't—you should get some rest instead." Amnesiac Brick glanced at the mirror, where his other self was seated, breathing heavily and gripping the mirror to keep himself steady. Bags were under his red eyes, his shoulders were slumped, and he trembled from the effort just to keep standing. "You look about ready to keel over. You deserve the break."
His "reflection" sighed thankfully, eyes rolling up to the blackness above him. "Thank you." Then he looked back down and met his other self's eyes. "I hope I'm not being a bother."
"Oh no, not at all. We need to be in perfect condition if we want this to work." Amnesiac Brick smiled slightly. "Besides, you deserve it. Honestly."
His other self sighed, leaning against the mirror for support. He avoided the glass, which would shock him if he touched it. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. You were right anyway. This won't work—not right now; in our current conditions." Amnesiac Brick shook his head. "We'll have to wait till we're stronger and get up."
The other Brick curled up and closed his eyes. "Assuming there is a time we'll ever get up." He yawned. "I just want to sleep forever."
Amnesiac Brick bit his lip but didn't reply, and soon the other Brick was sound asleep. The version of him with amnesia stared at his hands, wondering if he could actually save himself. Both of them were tired and even a little weak, but he knew they had to make it.
This won't work now, but it will soon, he promised himself.
"He what!?" gasped Blossom, eyes wide. She had dropped her pencil case, causing its contents to spill out onto the floor.
A pink mechanical pencil hit the green converse sneaker of Butch, who had his arms crossed. Visible bags lined the underneath of his eyes, and his entire posture was slumped. "You heard me," he replied, his voice eerily still.
"Braker...shot?" spluttered the pink Powerpuff girl, shaking her head wildly. "That's awful! These stupid gang wars have even extremely damaging to society!"
"...Yeah." Butch's expression turned dark briefly, and Blossom wondered what he was thinking about. Then the green Ruff sighed, shrugging. "Braker's not as badly damaged as Brick—or even Ross, but it might take a little while before he comes to. Bandit predicts around two days."
"This is terrible," exclaimed the redheaded teenage girl, picking up her scattered pens and pencils.
"It's already been one day." He swallowed hard, keeping his gaze trained on the wall as he scratched the back of his neck. "But...I won't stop worrying till I see him awake."
She paused, glancing back at him. She realized just then exactly how disheveled Butch looked—his black t-shirt with a skull on it was extremely wrinkled, and he wore a green hoodie that had been carelessly tossed on. His spiky black hair fell in messy waves.
"I feel like shit," he muttered.
"Don't swear," Blossom reprimanded. "And"—she hesitated—"I'm sure they'll both be fine—"
"You don't understand! This is all so much bigger than that," Butch interrupted, spinning around to pin her down with a scowl.
She cowered back in surprise, not expecting the sudden retaliation. One moment he had been quiet and thoughtful; the next he was enraged, face flushed red.
Noticing her discomfort, he sighed and drew back, calming down. "Sorry," he mumbled, averting his gaze. Neither of them met eyes as they awkwardly stood in the room. Before the sudden silence could be shooed away by either of them, it disappeared from something else: a ringing doorbell.
"I-I'll get it," offered Blossom, already floating toward the door.
Butch didn't answer, and he didn't follow either.
She opened the front door and was surprised to see who was standing in front of her. "V-Vincent?" she stammered.
"Surprise," he offered, smiling kindly. He was wearing a red-and-white patterned, form-fitting sweater-shirt, which had zigzag patterns on it. It was paired with jeans and sneakers; probably his causal "after-school-I'm-too-lazy-to-change-into-something-less-comfy" look. Blossom found it strangely attractive.
"H-How did you...?" She trailed off, eyes wide. She herself was wearing a pink dress-shirt, black skirt and gray, patterned tights.
His smile didn't fade. "I have my resources. Mostly, your sisters told me."
"O-Oh." She glanced back inside, catching sight of Butch behind her. He'd emerged from the room they'd been standing in, and had immediately noticed Vincent. He was now bristling and growling like a stray dog—or a wolf.
"Is that Butch?" Vincent smiled, standing on tiptoes and waving. "Hey!"
"Fuck off," Butch muttered, but out loud he called back, "Whatever", before stalking off.
"Sorry to intrude," the redheaded teen said, clearly satisfied that he didn't have to deal with Butch's simpleminded brain.
"N-No! Not at all! I kept saying you should come visit, after all. Would you mind giving me your address?"
"Sure." He gently placed a piece of parchment in her hand; tilting his head to one side. He listed his address before turning to the sheet of paper she was now holding. "I think you'll need that."
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's my notes and discoveries," Vincent explained. "Remember how you had problems with some equations? I tried to help out. Some of them got solved."
"Oh"—Blossom paused, realization hitting her as her eyes widened—"Oh! Oh, wow! Thank you so much! This will be a great help!"
"It's no problem. I'm just curious as to what you're trying to find out," he replied. He noticed Blossom biting her lip and chuckled. "No, I won't pry. Don't tell me unless you're sure you can."
"Thank you," she repeated breathlessly.
"You're welcome." He smiled, before pausing with what almost seemed like hesitation. Then before she could wonder what was wrong, he had leaned forward and left a peck on her forehead. Then he leaned back, smiled one last time, turned around, waved, and walked off.
As Blossom stood, frozen in the doorway, her hands trembling, she played the scene over and over again. She would've kept standing there too, had it not been for Butch, who stalked over and snatched the sheet away.
"I hope you're not in love with that guy or anything. I don't like him, and I know Brick doesn't either. If he messes with you and Brick's relation—"
"We're not dating!" blurted Blossom, face flushed red. "Brick and I aren't a couple, and neither are Vincent and I."
Butch paused, glancing back at her. "Whatever," he then snorted, before stalking off to Mojo's lab, Vincent's sheet in his hand.
Blossom's face burned as she glanced outside one last time before closing the door.
*(A/N: Reference to my fic "Hung Up on You"!)
**(A/N: References to "Fairly Odd Parents", "Gravity Falls", "Littlest Pet Shop", "Horseland", "My Little Pony (Equestria Girls)", and "Xiaolin Chronicles/Showdown"!)
***(A/N: I am in no way bashing Jackssom or Prinack! I only put that in as a little tease; considering the ships Jack gets put in with PPG characters. While I don't ship them, I still find them cute (I prefer Blossick and Prinitch)! I threw that in for fun like "oh those ships kinda happened but since in my story it's Princess x Mitch it kinda didn't work out so I was just alluding to that for fun please don't kill me I find the ships still really cute"!)
ME: This chapter was eventful.
BRICK: Was it?
ME: Well, besides Braker getting shot, not much happened. Oh, speaking of Braker getting shot—don't worry guys! More people will get hurt as the war dags on. *grins*
BLOSSOM: I don't think you should say that with a face like that...
ME: *still smiling* Like what?
BLOSSOM: ...Never mind...
BLASTER: Please review everyone! *smiles sweetly*
BLOSSOM: Considering your rampages these past few chapters, I don't think you should be making that face either...
BLASTER: What face?
BLOSSOM: ...Just forget it. But do remember to review!