CHAPTER 48: INSIDE A WOLF'S HEAD
ME: Sorry about the wait, people. I promise I'm not returning to the times where I updated every four months.
BUTCH: You better not.
BRICK: Yeah, there's too much going on in this story for that.
ME: I thought you didn't like being in this story. But you keep proving other—
BRICK: Oh shut up. I just want to see what happens to me.
ME: You'll see... As for what's been happening to me... I decided to wait awhile before writing because there weren't too many reviews at first, but then I got sick. I had a fever on Monday, and I've been sick for the rest of the week. I'm still sick right now, but I'm feeling better.
BLOSSOM: Take medicine, get lots of rest, and drink plenty of water.
ME: *sighs* I'm trying. Oh, and there's a scene in here I know for sure you guys will like. Anyway, I only own my OC's and the story!
BLASTER: Read on~
Chapter 48: Inside a Wolf's Head
The slightest breeze filtered into the room, with a certain man sitting on a windowsill staring out at the world beyond the window. He quietly hummed to himself. It was almost as quiet as he was, but the silence was broken by birds singing and bees buzzing. The large garden outside was filled to the brim with flowers and bushes, all trimmed perfectly. There were hedges trimmed into cherubs and ballerinas, as well as animals like elephants or giraffes. Different kings of tulips and roses and lilies and more bloomed in almost every corner, with a trickling of a nearby stream filling his ears. Animals pranced around outside, looking like they were in heaven, happy to be somewhere safe and sheltered. The lawn was cut so neatly he couldn't help but wonder if someone had taken the time to painstakingly trim each and every blade of grass individually.
As he was about to continue his sleepy gazing, he heard voices drift toward him in the breeze. He only managed to catch a few words, but they were enough. The words were heartbreaking, as the speakers were talking about feeling a little lonely. His own loneliness settled deep within him when he spotted the young boys walking around outside, still speaking urgently in hushed tones. The man himself missed such companionship.
Before he could feel any lonelier, a small bird settled on the windowsill and cocked its head at him. When he smiled at it, it tweeted back a few short, high notes of a melody. He reached out to touch it, and the bird became very still. It let him stroke it once before it fluttered away.
A stirring made him snap out of his dreamy state, and he glanced back at the two people behind him. "Are you two finally awake?" he asked, drawing his hood over his face before getting up. He wiped his hands on a towel nearby. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel like a bus just rammed into me..." one of them groaned.
"...Not quite a bus," he finally said.
"Where am I?" the one who had groaned spoke again, shifting uncomfortably.
"You're home," he answered patiently.
"Home?" The woman beside him looked around, her frizzy red hair plastered to her face as she squinted against the light. She shivered. "This is home?"
"That's right. Everyone's been waiting for you two to wake up," he continued, rubbing his cold hands together. He made sure his face stayed hidden beneath the hood. While he remembered them, he highly doubted that they remembered him. "Michael and Christie especially," he added as an afterthought.
Suddenly, as if a switch had just been flicked, they were awake and attentive. The man jumped upwards before nearly stumbling onto his side. "Wh-Where are they?" he stammered, eyes roaming the room hungrily. He paused. "No...this isn't right. I shouldn't be here... My mission—"
"Has been cancelled," he finished, "thanks to 'certain circumstances'."
"Cancelled?" he repeated, his face paling. "But how... Why?" He shook his head. "This can't be right."
The woman had climbed up too, stepping away from the tube that had contained her body. She brushed away strands of curly red hair and reached out for the blond man.
"Where are my children?" he demanded again, his hair falling into his face as he tried to stay standing. He swayed unsteadily.
"Sit down," he called, "don't worry about your children. Christie's safe."
"Thank God..."
For a moment they all relaxed, before the woman blinked and looked back up. "Wait, what about Michael?"
Now he hesitated. He had a feeling that it wasn't his place to tell them. But what am I to do? "Maggie, Chris—promise me you won't panic when you hear the news."
They exchanged a glance before they turned back to him, faces hardened as if carved from stone. Chris nodded. "I promise," he whispered hoarsely. "Now tell me—us—what's become of our son?"
He took a deep breath to still his beating heart. Its pounding trickled into every vein in his body, and it surrounded his eardrums until he couldn't hear his own voice. "I'm sorry, you two," he began after a few moments of mental preparation. "I'm so sorry." He could see them tensing, and he himself was sweating. His throat felt like a desert plain but words somehow still left his mouth—words he couldn't hear. "Your son's been shot, and while the wound isn't fatal, the damage isn't minimal either."
At first there wasn't a reply. They just sat there, gaping up at him as if he'd just performed the most stunning magic trick in all of history. His heartbeat slowed, as did his breathing, but then an angry scream pierced the air and his heart-rate spiked back up. Maggie was screaming the words "no, no, NO!", at the top of her lungs. Chris had lunged forward, grabbing the hooded man's collar and forcing him into a wall.
Tears pooled in Chris' eyes as he growled lowly, "How did this happen?"
He winced, too winded to reply.
Chris bashed him into the wall again. "I SAID, how did this happen!?" he roared. "Tell me! Now!"
"The war started while you two had vanished. It would appear that someone decided it would be a good idea to shoot Danes' nephew as a move in battle, and as a warning."
"How could they do such a thing to a poor boy!? I am going to hunt them down, feed them their own heart, and drink their blood from a wine goblet to make them pay! I will never let my son die, and I don't view their warning as a threat at all!" screeched Maggie, her earlier cries having vanished into angry rage. Her face was flushed red and she smashed her fist into the ornate wall, causing a cracking noise. She didn't even flinch.
Chris gazed sadly at his wife before turning back to the hooded man, who was struggling to breathe. "Tell me who you are. You don't work for the person who shot our son, do you?"
"No. I do not." The man's lips were visible, and they were set in a straight line.
"Then let me see your face."
"I'll have to decline."
Chris snarled, "Only cowards with something to hide would keep their faces underneath a hood."
"I'm not a coward. I've never been a coward." However, he didn't deny having something to hide, but then again... Don't we all? He gripped the hand that held him up, before wrenching himself away and flipping Chris over his shoulder.
"Chris!" gasped Maggie, already running toward the stranger. She threw powerful punch after punch at him, with a few kicks thrown in, demonstrating her strength.
He stepped back and blocked her blows, twisting and turning so that he could shove her away. "I don't want to fight either of you! I've just saved your lives, and I don't want any wounds to reopen!"
"I don't give a shit about that—" sneered Maggie, hands already in fists again.
"Darling, wait." Chris gripped her hand and she froze. He looked up at the man staring down at them, catching a glimpse of brown hair. He narrowed his eyes. "Then tell us who you are."
"His name is Raymond."
All three of them spun around to see a certain hulking somebody standing in the doorway, arms behind his back.
"Danes," gasped Chris.
"Raymond here is the man who helped save your lives. You should show some gratitude. It was not his fault that Michael was shot," Danes boomed.
Chis looked back at "Raymond", distrust twisting in his body. The name felt so familiar and yet so distant at the same time.
Maggie obviously felt the same way, but she was the first to stand up and offer him her hand. "I'm sorry we didn't question you calmly first before attacking."
"Yeah, that wasn't the smartest thing to do." Not willing to be outdone, Chris staggered upwards, ignoring the hissing pain that threatened to claim his limbs and drag him under.
Raymond just shook his head patiently, his stance easing as compassion filled what little could be seen of his face. "It's fine. I understand what you're going through."
"But how could you?" asked Maggie, her green eyes distraught.
Raymond was silent for a few seconds. Then he sighed and said, "I've lost my everything."
No one spoke for awhile; whether it was out of respect or awkwardness was unclear. Finally, Danes took charge again and said, "I promise I'm doing everything I can to save Mich—"
"Not good enough!" screamed Maggie. Raymond flinched, but pity overtook his heart when he saw the tears in her eyes. She swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down at the ground. "Not good enough..." she mumbled.
Chris quickly walked over to his wife. His own eyes had teared up as well. "You promised," he hissed accusingly.
Danes grimaced, bracing himself for the words to come.
"You promised you wouldn't get my children involved!"
"And I kept that promise for as long as I could. But Christie chose to look for you on her own. The war started and it was evident that I couldn't shield Michael forever. You have seen him train. He can be ruthless and bloodthirsty when he wants to be, but I hold him back because of our promise."
"That's not the only reason. He's never been as good as Ross, hasn't he?" Chris muttered bitterly, eyes dark. "So we made a pact."
"We did. And I'm sorry I had to break it." Danes dipped his head.
"We don't want your apology," snapped Maggie. "We want our son."
"And I already told you we're doing what we can to help—"
"And I told you that's not good enough!" Maggie's voice rose an octave as Chris helped her up.
Her husband stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "I appreciate that you took care of my children while we were gone, brother—and you know that. But I do not appreciate the fact that Michael and Christie have been thrust into war and have been so vulnerable to attack that they've even gotten hurt."
"I'm sorry, Chris," Danes murmured, looking genuinely apologetic. "We've been looking for the shooter. The justice he must face will be delivered—"
"No." Chris shook his head. When he looked back up to meet Danes' eyes, there was a hollow darkness that squirmed around inside, and his gaze was challenging. He lifted his chin defiantly, motioning at his wife and himself. "We are going to find that shooter, and we are going to kill him."
"Stars above," amnesiac Brick breathed, eyes wide.
"What's the matter?" asked the other Brick, glancing at his companion from the other side of the mirror.
He pointed up. "Stars," he whispered.
Brick's gaze slowly drifted upwards, and even the cool, calmer version of Brick let out a small gasp. There really were stars, and they were glittering like diamonds in the darkness. As they watched, more blinked into existence, winking down at them with their soft glow.
"What does it mean?" Amnesiac Brick managed to say, the stars reflected in his red irises.
"Blossom must have made some sort of breakthrough," mused his other self slowly. Then a small grin spread across his face. "We're getting close to being saved!"
Amnesiac Brick couldn't help but feel his stomach flip-flop. He managed a weak smile. "Yeah... Saved."
"What's the matter? I thought you wanted to go home?"
The words pierced him like daggers, and he flinched. Home. It was all he had ever wanted. But will I really be myself when I get back? "Of course I do," he finally replied, but his tone wavered more than he would've liked.
The other Brick looked unconvinced. "I'm not you for nothing," he said. "Something's up."
"Nothing's up." He held up his hands. "Come on, let's just fix the mirror some more and help Blossom help us."
"You know that neither of us will be able to concentrate if you want to leave the conversation at that," his other self said tightly.
He had a point. Amnesiac Brick sighed. "I'm sorry, I just... I'm a little scared."
His reflected self blinked. Then understanding dawned. "Oh... I heard you say that when you were awake and I was still stuck in this head. Something about not being you anymore?"
He nodded.
The other Brick hesitated. "I don't want to sound cruel, but didn't Blossom already tell you that you'll still be you when the memories come back? Because you're me, and I'm you anyway."
"Yes, but... That was before I knew that this amnesia isn't 'normal'. We have two halves of one Brick, stuck inside his own head. How is this normal? There's a magical mirror in here, and what is it going to mean if we fix it? What's going to happen? When or even if we wake up, who will we be? Will I still be me?"
"Of course you'll be you! You're just...going to be me, too."
"That's not helping."
"But it's true—we're two halves of the same Brick."
Amnesiac Brick could feel his eyes watering. "But I like being just me."
"Just being you doesn't mean I get to be me. It doesn't mean we get to go home. Heck, you're technically not being your true self because you don't want to become the real Brick!"
"But do you want to disappear too?"
"We aren't going to disappear. We are Brick. We're a part of him—we are him."
"But I'm also me, and I like that. Look at me; the original Brick wouldn't cry like this!"
"That's because you're missing a piece. Me." The other Brick held his hands out in a pleading manner. "Please. Let's go home."
Amnesiac Brick hesitated, eyes wide. The stars were still glowing above him, and he felt his heart drop. He knew his counterpart was right. He couldn't be himself—at least, not the way he wanted.
Sensing that he was getting through, the other version gestured at the mirror. "We're in this together. We'll fuse and become one. You'll live on, with me. And while some parts of you might vanish, so will parts of me. But that's the way things have to be."
Only sad silence met his words.
"Don't you want to see your friends and family again? Mojo, Him, Butch, Boomer, Bandit, Braker, Blaster... What about them? Don't their wishes mean anything to you? And what about Blossom?"
Amnesiac Brick blinked. Blossom's words entered his brain: "I believe in you."
"Don't you want to be home?"
The other Brick floated forward and reached into the mirror, fighting against the shock that cut through his weak body. He touched amnesiac Brick's hand in a comforting gesture. The stars suddenly flashed, glowing vibrantly above them. And all of a sudden, amnesiac Brick knew his answer. Yes. Yes, I want to go home. He opened his mouth. Then he smirked, looking more like the original Brick. "Yes, I want to go home!"
"Awesome! Now that that's settled, let's fix this mirror! We're more than halfway done."
Amnesiac Brick nodded and joined his other self at the mirror. He thought of everything his other self had said to comfort himself in the face of nervousness and worry. He remembered home, his family and friends, and also Blossom... There was something he wanted to tell Blossom. Something important.
They held up their hands and focused with all of their might. Above them, the stars were practically singing with their glow. It was a haunting, hypnotizing piece that drifted through their eardrums like the softest tickle. They concentrated like they never had before, and the remaining cracks began to glow, singing out and shrieking as they slowly vanished. The whitish-gold glow overtook all of the remaining cracks and then...
They were all gone.
The mirror screamed and sang at the same time like a passionate siren, flashing brightly. The stars had glowed to the point of being balls of light with very little darkness between them, and the water gleamed white from all the brightness. Ever light cast long shadows on the two Brick's faces, blinding them. They looked at each other wide wide, wide eyes, reaching out at the same time and touching hands at the same time. And at that second, for the first time, they truly saw themselves in the other. Not just the eyes or hair or how their postures mirrored the other's. It was everything; everything was the same. They were seeing the perfect reflection.
Then the flash swallowed up everything in sight, including them.
"Let's go," called Buttercup, swinging a bag over her shoulder.
"Are you sure about this?" Banana sounded doubtful as she tugged her hair into a large bun and ponytail at the back of her head. "If we get caught—"
"We won't get caught," Buttercup interrupted firmly.
"Well, what if—?"
"We won't."
"Buttercup's right. Or at least, close." Bliss' tired, hollow voice drifted over them, her eyes red. "We won't be caught. Or rather, if we really want to do this, then we can't be caught."
"Yes, because that's such a good plan." Banana rolled her eyes. "It just feels so rushed."
"What else can we do? If we hold back any longer, we'll never learn anything," muttered Buttercup. "There's been too many secrets. We're going to solve them."
Banana remembered Blaster's design sketches and guilt gripped her. She'd safely tucked them away in her bag for future reference, hoping that he'd think the janitor had taken them, he himself had thrown them out without remembering it, or some breeze blew them away. She knew it was stupid, but she wanted to keep the designs—at least for now. Still, that didn't stop the guilt. "But what if some secrets are meant to be kept secret?"
"There's too many of them. If I don't want my trust to be broken, then I'm going to find some answers before I get tangled up in a web of bullshit," Buttercup interrupted, sounding strangely poetic until she got to the last part.
Blossom sat in the living room, having been waiting for the past three minutes for her sisters to appear. She was, as usual, very punctual. She let out a small snort, brushing away red hair. "At least you have developed some culture, if not sensibility."
"Excuse me, Princess. You're going, aren't you? If you don't want to, then don't. You haven't developed the bravery or curiosity to do it," sneered her raven-haired sister.
Blossom glared at Buttercup. "I'm smart, not a coward. And besides, I'm only going to keep you out of trouble. So you're welcome."
"Bullshit," the green Puff said, rolling her eyes, "oldest, lamest excuse in the book."
Her sister bristled. "Well, I'm just being—"
"Sensible. Yeah, yeah. Let's get going already." Buttercup glanced at the stairs. "Oi, Bubbles; Bunny! You guys done yet?"
"Done!" called Bubbles, floating into vision. She flew down the stairs.
Bunny arrived more quietly, holding a small purple bag. She swallowed. "H-Here..."
"You guys ready?" Buttercup held the front door open.
"Ready," they called.
As they were about to fly out, the phone rang. Everyone froze.
A moment passed. Another ring. Another moment. Another ring. Another moment. Another ring—
Buttercup picked up. "Hello?"
"Butters...!" It was the Professor, his voice thick with concern. "Oh thank goodness you're home. That means everyone else is home, right?"
Despite being happy to hear her father on the phone, Buttercup couldn't help but scowl. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, never mind. Sorry, Buttercup. Anyway, you girls remember to go to sleep! The curfew for being home is 7:00, but you know you can sleep whenever you want, as long as it's not too late. I won't be home till perhaps awhile past midnight thanks to the convention. So stay home before going to bed! Don't do anything rash. Watch a movie or something; I left one on the shelf—"
"Okay, okay!" chuckled his daughter, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. She felt amused and sorry at the same time, since she and her sisters were still sneaking out. "We'll be here," she promised quietly. "You just worry about your convention thingy."
"Thank goodness." The Professor sighed with relief. "Bye, Buttercup. I love you."
She scoffed. "Sure. Right back at you." Then she hung up.
"Who was that? The Professor?" questioned Bliss, rubbing her hands together. "Or your lover?"
Buttercup scoffed, "Haha very funny." She glanced back at the phone. "He thinks we'll be watching a movie. Anyway, come on; let's roll already."
"I hate lying to him," muttered Blossom.
"I hate having to listen to you complain," Buttercup shot back, "so let's try and compromise."
The pink Puff had looked irritated originally, but now she looked intrigued. "What compromise?"
"You're still the leader of this expedition, and you can nag or complain a little. But you're going to have to do this with us."
"...Sure." Blossom and Buttercup shook hands on it. She smiled slightly. "To tell the truth I would've done it anyway, but this makes it better."
Buttercup smirked. "See? There we go; we reached a compromise. Now let's get going already."
They opened the door and flew outside, a rainbow of streaks in the sky. Soon the forest came into view, and the lonely cabin. Shadows flitted around below them, and Buttercup stopped her sisters. She put a finger to her lips, and they began flying slowly toward the cabin. Then they were descending, so slowly that their streaks didn't light up the sky.
People were, suspiciously enough, milling about below them with what appeared to be weapons. They patrolled the cabin like it was something important, which only peaked Buttercup's curiosity. She turned to Blossom and sensed the same interest, so she motioned with her hands for her sister to hurry. Blossom nodded, although not without an annoyed look, before making a few complicated hand gestures.
The other Powerpuff Girls understood the meaning behind the signs. They ducked down, trying to flatten themselves down and become a part of the thatched roof. Then they lowered their bodies into a nearby window with a gaping hole in the cracked glass.
Six light thuds sounded on the dusty, wooden floor. Buttercup held back the desire to cough as an old smell of burnt, rotting wood filled her nostrils. The smell was unexpected and even overwhelming. She hadn't expected the cabin to seem so...abandoned. It only made her more curious as to why Bandit was in here, and why there were so many people guarding it.
"Let's get snooping," Blossom muttered, strapping on black gloves.
Buttercup rolled her eyes, but put on her own gloves anyway. Usually they snooped by just snooping, but her sister's paranoia for the night had decided that they should wear gloves to keep their fingerprints off of anything. It seemed even more pointless now than it had earlier, considering how empty the cabin seemed to be. Still, Buttercup complied, as the compromise said that Blossom was still leading the expedition and could do it however she liked—as long as they did it, and they were.
The green Puff glanced around. The house seemed quite old. It had a stove and most of the usual kitchen necessities, but some things were terribly burnt and had long-since started rotting. She was about to report this when Bunny let out a gasp.
Each Puff turned to stare at their sister, who was holding something shiny up. "What is it?" asked Bubbles, the first to speak.
"It's a picture," Bunny finally managed to say, "and it has...the Ruffs in it?"
Blossom immediately joined her sister. "Show me!" she commanded. She took the photo and her eyebrows shot up. "Wow, it's really them," she murmured.
"Let me see!" Buttercup joined them and her jaw fell open. Seven boys sat at an obviously real Christmas tree, decorated with a string of popcorn, pinecones dipped in honey, and other real items. There were homemade ornaments and fancy ornaments. A man sat in a blue armchair nearby, smiling.
"Where is this?" Banana asked, her gaze never leaving the photo. The boys looked about eight. "And who is that man in the armchair?"
"I don't know, but there's something about that man..." Bliss trailed off. "Wait, who's that?"
"Who's what?"
"The seventh boy. Over there." Bliss pointed, her brow furrowed. "He has red hair and...whoa."
"Whoa what?" Blossom squinted at the picture.
"Look, one eye's white and the other's green! What's that supposed to mean? He looks like some anime RPG character," Bliss remarked.
Blossom frowned. "I doubt it. It's probably just a smudge since this photo's so old. Look, the picture's not HD. The flash and motion must've made his eye look white."
Her explanation didn't seem the most plausible, but it did seem a lot better than the idea that he had magical anime eyes.
"Well, who is it?" Bliss squinted at him. "He looks like a fox."
Fox... Fox? Buttercup's eyes widened. "It's him," she finally managed to gasp.
Now everyone was looking at her, but she didn't reply. Blossom tried to prompt her into speaking, but her sister was too concentrated on the issues floating around in her mind. Just as Buttercup was about to return to focus, there was the clicking of heels as someone approached outside.
"Shit," muttered Buttercup.
As if she'd said the magic word, they were suddenly all running away from the door to the farthest wall. Along the way, Bubbles tripped over a wire and fell flat on her face. As Buttercup paused to help her up, her eyes trailed after the shaking wires to what they were connected to, finding it weird that an abandoned cabin had such complex machinery inside. What she saw caused her to start, nearly dropping Bubbles.
The wires were connected to new, still-working, high-tech monitors. "Who lives here?" she finally stammered.
"Forget all that; get going!" called Bliss, running forward. She ran straight into a bookshelf, smashing a certain book over...
For a second everyone froze. Then the bookshelf shuddered, and they all feared that books were going to start flying off of the shelves—literally. Before anything bad happened, however, the bookshelf swung open on squeaky hinges like it were a door.
"...Oh. Wow." Banana glanced into the newly discovered room, heart beating rapidly. The room was a study, and it was a mess. She clearly wasn't impressed. "If somebody really does still live here, then I worry for this person's housekeeping skills." She was also worried about the fact that someone would pop out of the shadows in the room or the person from outside would walk in at any moment.
"We have bigger issues at the moment," Buttercup grunted back. She waved at the bookshelf-turned-door. "Hurry up and close the damn thing!" she hissed.
Bubbles exchanged glances with Blossom, and then the two were heaving the creaky (although quiet) thing closed. It shut with a soft thud, and all of them breathed a sigh of relief, with Blossom even sinking down in her own relief. Buttercup would've leaned against the wall, but it was rotten and burnt. She walked over to the desk in the room, curious when she spotted a red book that stood out amongst all the dull colours.
It turned out it was a photo album, and she was startled to see more pictures of not only the Ruffs, but also what appeared to be younger versions of Shamus and Danes. And who's that pretty woman and man who looks like Ross...? She had a lot of questions as she flipped through the pages. "Guys, take a look at this," she breathed.
Her sisters gathered around her and they stared down at the pages, just as surprised as her. "Who are these people? How are they connected to the Rowdyruff Boys?" Blossom mused aloud, her brow furrowed.
"This is weird. How much about them do we not know?" Banana took the album and stared at a picture with the beautiful woman in it. Her long, silky hair was tied in loose, low pigtails and blowing in the wind, and she wore a sundress and hat. The sun was behind her so shadows danced along her skin and dress. Sand and water glistened around her. She was laughing. In the background, a young-looking Shamus was being chased by the man that looked like Ross, who was holding up a crab.
"She's beautiful," breathed Bubbles, admiring her dress.
"But who is she? Who are all of these people? How do they know Shamus and Danes and the Ruffs?" Buttercup scratched her head in frustration, staring down at photos and photos of strangers.
"They've never mentioned anything about these people," agreed Blossom, frowning.
Bliss started, before pointing. "That's Deth Jackson Sr and his brother, Slicer! I-Is that a baby Deth Jackson?" DJ's father was smiling calmly but brightly at the camera, looking proud as he cradled a bundle in his arms. Two small, pink and fleshy hands peeked out of the wrap, and a head with some hair. The baby was sleeping soundly.
"I see Sidney in here too!" Bubbles was staring at a photo where a younger Sidney stood in a school uniform with his sister, Sydney and their hippie parents. Each parent carried a baby bundle, looking totally relaxed and happy. Sydney looked somewhat grumpy, while Sidney looked as shy as ever.
Bunny remained silent until she saw a picture of Darkai. Then she let out a small, audible gasp. The image showed him, considerably younger, still as stoic as ever, standing with the man that was with the Ruffs in future pictures. The man was smiling, an arm around Darkai's shoulder. The boy was not smiling, but that didn't come as a surprise.
"Does this mean the Rowdyruff Boys have known Michael and his friends since they were young? But then why wouldn't they have pictures of them together? And why do they hate each other so much now?" Banana asked. "This is confusing!"
Blossom shook her head, clearly at a loss for words that could give any answers.
"My question is, who the heck is this guy?" Buttercup pointed at the man who'd been seen in many of the pictures, whether with the Ruffs or with Ross and his friends. "He's been in pictures with everyone. He is the connection between Ross and his friends and the Ruffs. But we've never seen him around before. Where'd he go? What happened to him? And most importantly just who is he?"
"I can answer one of those questions if that would help."
The girls all spun around to see a man leaning against the bookshelf-door, which was now swung open. He wore a hood over his face, but the smirk on his lips was unmistakable. His arms were folded and one leg was bent. His posture was so relaxed it was unnerving. Buttercup felt her pulse quicken and she fumbled into a fighting stance.
"That'd be me in the pictures."
She relaxed, but only a little. "What...?"
"I said, that'd be me in those photos." He nodded at the album. "They're all such wonderful memories. It's such a pity that I lost that life a long time ago, though."
Buttercup wanted to know more. Her curiosity was peaked. The only problem was the fact that she didn't fully trust the man in front of her...
"I can tell you don't trust me." He uncrossed his arms and held up his hands. "But look, I don't have any weapons on me."
"Alright." She lowered her own arms, watching as he also lowered his open palms. "Why are you here, then?"
"I live here," he replied. "I was just making some tea. Care to join me?"
She shared looks with her sisters. "Thank you. I guess we'll accept then." She swallowed her nervousness.
"Err... What is your name, mister?" asked Blossom, stepping forward.
He glanced back just slightly before waving his hand dismissively. "My name's Damon."
Damon. Damon...? The name brought back faint memories of the Ruffs saying such a name. Buttercup's heart skipped a beat. Shit, she thought. Just who is this guy?
They gathered around the small wooden table back in the kitchen. Damon was standing by the stove, finishing up his tea preparations. He hummed lightly to himself, seemingly not at all unnerved by the random strangers who'd broken into his own home.
The soft whirring noises of the kettle on the stove was soothing, but not by much. The Puffs were all sitting at the table, completely tense and nervous. Damon turned around and set down a basket of cookies. "Have some snacks," he offered, "but don't eat too much. Eating a lot is bad for you so late at night."
"Umm...thanks." Buttercup gingerly took a biscuit and began nibbling at it. She froze. It was quite tasty, filling her every vein with warmth.
"Oh wow, these are really good," said Bliss, eyes wide. Her fingers twitched, ready to take more even while she was trying to remain in control of her impulses.
Damon seemed to notice though, because he chuckled. "Go ahead and have some more. I don't mind."
"What are these made of?" Bubbles asked.
"Sweetened, harvested blood from wolves and bats," Damon replied after awhile.
Bliss choked on her fourth cookie. Everyone else choked too.
Then Damon started laughing. "Just kidding."
"Jeez, man. That wasn't funny," muttered Bliss, eating another cookie. She froze, her fingers brushing her sixth snack. Too late.
Damon was tense now, looking serious. "I know. That wasn't funny." Then he turned around and started humming again.
Buttercup shared a look with Bliss. They both agreed silently that something about Damon felt off. The green Puff cleared her throat. "Umm...tell me, how did you meet the Ruffs?"
He paused. "I saved them," he finally said simply. He didn't bother to add anything else.
Buttercup furrowed her brow. "From what?"
He sighed. "You wouldn't want to know." Then he turned around and smiled from underneath the hood, pushing himself up onto the counter for a seat. He rested his elbows on his knees. "Tell me, do you know what it's like to have your heart broken, be accused of a crime you totally didn't commit, be shot in both legs, and have to survive two giant fires where you lose a lot?"
Buttercup frowned, her unease growing. "No," she finally said, "sorry."
His smile fell into something weaker. "That's what I thought." He swung his legs. Once. Twice. Then he paused again, thinking. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle. "The Ruffs were like sons to me. But then I was taken from them."
This perked her interest. "What? How?"
"That's a story for another day. It involves lots of red and orange," he replied, hopping off and focusing on the stove again. He chuckled. "So many burns, so much bleeding..."
Buttercup could feel her patience dwindling, but her fear was growing. Damon didn't seem stable.
He still had his back to her, but now he tilted his head toward her. "I know what you're thinking, by the way. And I'm not crazy. Everything I'm saying is true. I just can't share everything yet, so it makes me sound crazy."
"Okaaaay..." Buttercup shuffled her feet, trying not to feel uncomfortable under his scorching gaze.
He turned away again. "Do you like sugar or milk in your tea?"
The green Puff held up her hand. "Wait. I still don't know who you are. Won't you please tell me? How are you connected to the Ruffs as well as Shamus and Danes?"
Damon froze, hand reaching for sugar in midair. "Don't. Say. His. Name."
She cowered back. "Who? Danes?"
He spun around, and she caught sight of flaming hatred flashing in one of his visible eyes under the hood. His lips curled back in a snarl. "I SAID, DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING SAY HIS NAME!" He threw a small butter-knife, and it slashed into the centre of the wooden table. Then he just stood there, panting, his face flushed a violent red.
Buttercup and her sisters coiled back, all letting out startled, scared gasps. They pressed against one another, staring at Damon with fear at how he'd lashed out.
He stood there, shoulders heaving, as he eyed them hungrily. "Don't say his name. I hate him. If you say his name again, I will make sure you never—"
The kettle screeched, signalling the finishing of the tea. He whipped back around to the stove, humming (albeit slightly more forced) again as he poured the boiling water into cups. "Please, have some tea now," he sang, his voice the very image of peaceful, melodious serenity now.
As her sisters tentatively took a cup, Buttercup also reached for one and asked, "Are you okay, Damon?" The hesitation was clear in her tone, as well as the fear. And she hated herself for feeling fear.
Damon paused, having been dumping sugar into his own tea. He lifted his head slightly to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm fine," he finally said calmly.
"I'm sorry I upset you. Is there any way I could make it up to you? I didn't realize that D—I mean, his name would offend you." Anything that'll keep you from going psychopathic on me again.
"I really hate that man," he finally whispered back.
"Huh?" She frowned.
He shook his head. "No, I forgive you. You don't have to do anything." Then he paused. "Or rather... I only have one request to make of you."
"What's that?" She blinked, glancing at her sisters before looking up at him, sipping his tea.
He was smiling again now, his head listed to the side. She caught his mischievous smile and a flash of brown. "Please don't tell the Ruffs I'm still here. For all they know, this cabin is abandoned. And I prefer it that way."
"Why? If you're their friend or—fatherly figure—shouldn't you tell them you're here?" She couldn't keep the confusion from her voice.
He tilted his head back and laughed. It was a haunting, melodious ringing, sounding like chimes on Halloween night when the moon was full and wolves were howling or whimpering. "Oh no, it's a little game I'm playing with them. And it's a lot of fun. But if you girls break the rules, then I'm afraid I'll have to kill you."
Buttercup had been lost in his haunting laugh, but now she snapped back to attention. She spat out her drink in shock. "Wait... What?"
His laugh had hardened now, before dwindling to a giggle. He lowered his head so that she could see his smile, which now seemed too wide and too scary for any sane man's face. "Oh, Buttercup, I'd have to kill you." His tongue lolled out and she could make out sharp canines as he licked his lips.
"Shit," she whispered, scrambling upwards, eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry, Damon; it's been very pleasant, but I—w-we have to go now—"
"Oh, don't go! I just made this tea. At least take it with you."
"We'll do that. But...we really do have to go—"
Damon stepped forward, while the other Puffs jumped up as well, all carrying their cups. "Don't forget to bring it back," he sang smoothly.
"We won't," she promised. I won't do anything that'll make you want to kill me. She shuddered, hating her fear.
He cocked his head to the side. "It seems that you fear me. I wonder why? It's quite amusing, really—especially when I'm not nearly half as dangerous as you or Danes..."
Buttercup swallowed. "W-We're not dangerous." Not as dangerous as you.
"No, but also yes. Look at your superpowers. You could destroy worlds with that power." He held up his palms. "If I had that power, I wouldn't be in this position. Look at how lucky you are, girls."
She shuddered, glancing at her sisters, all of whom seemed to be equally scared. "D-Damon, please... Let us go."
"Oh no. Don't be so naïve, darling." Damon smiled again, his head still tilted. "You can't just leave the party yet."
"Why not? We're bringing the tea with us, like you asked..."
He was giggling now. "Because, my darling, darling naïve little girls"—suddenly his face hardened as he whipped out a gun—"you know far too much for your own good." Then he fired.
Every Powerpuff Girl screamed—even Buttercup, who stayed rooted to the spot while a silver bullet shot towards her.
"Where's Blossom?" Butch asked, squinting against the harsh lights of Mojo's lab.
The mutant ape-creature was busy typing something into some machine while connecting wires to the helmet on Brick's head. "I do not currently know the location or whereabouts of the one known as Blossom Utonium, daughter of Professor Utonium , who is currently staying and living with us for the time-being to help rescue and save Brick and get him awaken from his deep unconscious slumber."
Butch stared blankly at his fatherly figure. Mojo tended to ramble when distracted or nervous, and it seemed that he was currently both. "Okay," he finally said, already inching out of the lab. He climbed up the stairs and looked back just once, wincing when he saw Brick's sleeping form.
It had been way too long since he'd been awake.
Butch came out of the room and looked around, spotting a depressed-looking Boomer sitting in the living room on a couch. "What's with you?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
Boomer was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he fiddled with something. When he heard Butch, he started before shoving whatever he'd been playing with into a bag.
"You're not...pleasuring yourself at all, are you?" Butch frowned.
"Butch!" Boomer spun around and glared at his brother. "No!"
He held his hands up. "Sorry; I was just joking."
"Well, it wasn't very funny," huffed Boomer, turning back away and folding his arms.
"So what was it?" Butch leaned forward on the sofa, trying to look into the bag.
Boomer's protective grip on the bag tightened. "Nothing important."
His brother didn't believe him, but he also didn't say anything. Instead, he changed the subject. "Do you know where Blossom is? It's late and she's not picking up her phone."
"Why do you care so much?" He gave Butch a weird look.
The green Ruff immediately flushed red. "No! It's not like that. I'm just concerned."
"Yeah, well she doesn't have to help Brick 24/7. I know she misses him, but even she deserves some sort of a break," Boomer replied, shrugging. He glanced back down at the bag. "I'm sure she's fine. Probably just getting some fresh air."
"...It's nearly 12:00," Butch deadpanned.
"So? Some people like the midnight stroll." Boomer shrugged again.
Him appeared just then, calling, "Time to go to bed, boys! Good night and sweet dreams!" Then he vanished.
The blue Ruff's gaze followed Him. "I'll bet she'll be home in a little while."
Butch narrowed his eyes. "I'm going to go look for her. If she is just taking a stroll, then that's just dandy. But if she's not, then yeah I'll have to figure out what and help her out."
"Okay." Boomer kept his eyes glued to his bag.
"...You wanna come with?" offered Butch by way of invitation.
He shook his head, sighing. "Nah, sorry. I'm sure Blossom's fine, and besides"—he yawned—"I'm tired."
"Okay. You go get some sleep then." Butch got up from leaning against the sofa and floated up the stairs, ready to grab a jacket and bag. Then he flew back down, spotted Boomer again, before zooming out the door.
The wind felt cool against his face, but something didn't feel right. Boomer might've thought that Blossom was perfectly safe on some midnight stroll (or fly), but Butch had a more doomed feeling that writhed around in his gut. He didn't like it. It sent nervous energy crackling along his spine.
It was 12:06 am when he caught sight of the brightly-coloured streaks hurtling toward him in the starlit sky. It was 12:07 am when one of them crashed into him. It was 12:09 am by the time their heads had cleared enough for them to figure out what's going on. It was 12:11 am by the time he shouted, "It's you!"
He'd just crashed into Buttercup of the Powerpuff Girls.
The bullet missed Buttercup's head by about an inch. She stood there, shuddering on unstable legs. Her head jerked slowly to the side as sweat dripped down her face and she stared at the bullet, eyes wide. No one from outside came running, so she assumed that the people they'd seen earlier had already left. This meant that she couldn't scream for help.
It was clear now. Damon was definitely a psycho. He was completely unstable and totally willing to kill. If she couldn't get help or fight him, then the easiest thing would be not to piss him off. Fighting him wouldn't be difficult, but she didn't feel right putting her fists up and being so close to this man with such a twisted mind.
He blew on the hole of the smoking gun like some old Western movie, a grin gracing his hooded features. His cloak blew in a slight midnight breeze. She worried that he would shoot again, this time making sure not to miss, but he simply lowered the gun.
"Wh-Why?" she stammered, eyes huge.
He stared at her for awhile, and then he began to laugh. He laughed. "Oh, you should see the look on your face." He smiled slightly, pausing in his chaotic chuckling.
Buttercup pressed a hand to her heart and one to the wall, not currently caring about the rotting wood.
"I was just joking, of course," he replied cheerfully, shrugging innocently.
She shuddered. "Really? 'Cause I couldn't tell."
His face fell. "I know. It wasn't a really funny joke. But I had to do something for a warning," he said.
She didn't reply immediately, running words through her head. She finally picked: "Are you mad at me?"
He stared blankly at her, before laughing again. "No. I'm not mad at you. Not at all."
"Then why did you shoot me?"
"It was only a warning. If you do ever learn too much—"
"Don't finish that sentence." She shuddered again, frustrated that she was bothered by the idea of a bullet wound hurting her. But so many people she knew had been recently shot, so now even tough Buttercup was a little afraid of bullets.
Damon paused, his eyes boring into hers. "Well I wouldn't kill you—yet, anyway."
She tried to plug her fingers into her ears, but her super-hearing kicked in and his words still filtered into his brain. "Don't," she groaned.
"You're the one who brought it up."
Buttercup looked up, fingers still in her ears. "Do you hold anything against me, Damon?"
"No."
"Then will you let me and my sisters go?"
"...Yes. A promise is a promise." He sighed. "You have my a-okay to go home now. Don't worry; I won't do anything." He then sat back down on the counter. "Also, take these cookies with you." He placed a small blanket on top and thrust it into Bliss' arms.
"Thanks," she managed to stutter, nearly falling over from the experience.
Then they all hurried out of the cabin, with Damon watching. When they glanced back, they could see him waving. "Bye, girls~!" he sang. "Come visit me again sometime! You're all so sweet and I like you girls!"
"We will!" promised Blossom, looking back at Damon without really looking at Damon.
Buttercup shuddered in the sky. "That guy was unpleasant. At least we got some information in our needs."
"I want to go back someday for more answers," Banana finally remarked. "I want to know more of the truth. I want to be able to flip through that album and investigate all of the secrets."
"Sounds like a good idea, if you ignore Mr. Creepy-Ass," Buttercup shot back.
Banana shot her a look. "Hey, this was your idea."
"And now I'm less stupid."
"You literally decided to do it just a few hours a—"
"Still less stupid now."
Banana sighed, rolling her eyes. "Man, you can be so frustrating sometimes. Look, I'll go when he's not home. There, better?"
"...A little."
None of the sisters were paying attention in the sky, too nervous to focus. They wanted to get as far away from Damon as possible. They were also still flying in the air when there was a giant crash and Buttercup was sent flying.
"It's you!" the newcomer shouted. Buttercup tensed, ready to fight if necessary. But that seemed to be unnecessary, since she recognized the voice as friend, not foe.
She lowered her arms. "Butch...?" she finally said.
"Buttercup! What are you doing out here at midnight?" he asked, after he finished rubbing his sore head. His tone suggested surprise and not surprise at the same time.
"First off, what about you?"
"I'm looking for Blossom."
"She's over there." Buttercup pointed at a nearby spot beside him where Blossom waved awkwardly.
Butch followed her gesture with his gaze, and surprise graced his features. When it all sank in and he remembered the streaks he saw at 12:06 am meant that all the Puffs were there, he started to become suspicious. He narrowed his eyes, trying to assess the situation himself. Then he turned to Buttercup and raised an eyebrow.
She sighed. How do I bullshit my way through this? How do I explain this to him so that he doesn't get mad or suspicious? Her mind was still feeling dizzy from the shock and fear with Damon, and then the desperation to get out of his cabin and away from his gun.
Butch gestured at the Powerpuff Girls. "Well?" he demanded, folding his arms as his eyebrow remained raised. "What are you six doing?"
Buttercup shuffled her feet awkwardly. "We uh..."
"We were just meeting up together," Blossom cut in, "since other than school, us six haven't gotten a chance to be truly together and get caught up in awhile. Since...y'know—I live with you Ruffs now and stuff."
He didn't look like he was fully convinced, but he let it slide. He shrugged. "Alright, if you say so. Oh and Blossom, I came out looking for you."
"How come?" She furrowed her brow. "Don't tell me something's happened."
He flushed red, too embarrassed to admit to being worried about her. "I...uh..." He coughed. "Nothing's happened. It's just, you said so yourself—you live with us now, so I—we—just wanted to make sure you were home. Plus, the Professor checked in to see if you were home and you weren't and I remembered your curfew so I went looking for you." It wasn't a total lie. The Professor did often check in on Blossom, but he seemed to have forgotten today.
"You didn't tell him I wasn't there, did you?" she asked, looking nervous.
He shook his head. Again, not a total lie. "Didn't want to worry him."
"Oh, thank God." Blossom turned to her sisters. "Well, I guess we should go now."
"Bye, Bloss," her sisters called, waving.
Butch watched them say their goodbyes before feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. He picked up. "Hello?"
"Have you found Blossom yet?" It was Boomer.
"Yeah... Why?"
"There's...something up with Brick. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but Mojo wants Blossom home ASAP!"
"What?" Butch spun around to face Blossom, who'd finished saying goodbye to her sisters, all of whom had already flown away. "Okay, we'll be right there!"
The pink Puff's expression read "what's wrong?" She waited until he hung up to actually ask.
But then he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the sky before she could ask. "We gotta get home—now!" he stated. "It's already 12:16, and apparently something's up with Brick."
Blossom gasped. "Oh no! We have to hurry then!"
Butch didn't argue. The two hurried back to the Ruffs' house, and were quickly let in. Boomer escorted them down into Mojo's lab, where he was checking Brick's readings.
"What happened?" demanded Blossom, flying into a chair. She nearly tipped it over in her haste.
Mojo frowned. "The readings on this machine of his brainwaves and brain patterns seem to be getting a little wilder, or crazier, if you will, than usual. I put the technological helmet on him in order to attempt in helping and aiding in the process of stabilizing the unstable brainwaves."
"How has it been working?"
"Fairly well, it seems." Mojo suddenly seemed to exhausted to ramble any longer, although when worried, he often rambled.
Blossom relaxed. "Oh thank God."
"But it appears that we are not quite out of danger or trouble just yet! Look, take a peek, check it out, what have you—just look!" He also rambled when excited.
She leaned over and immediately gasped, eyes widening. "No way! Is that it...?"
"I think and believe so!"
Watching the two geek out, Butch decided to leave it to them and left. He wandered upstairs and went to check on Braker. He almost knocked on the door, but then he remembered that no one would be there to hear it—not Braker, and not Bandit either. His room was quiet and dark, like it had been since Braker lost consciousness. Without the orange Ruff's bouncy energy, there wasn't much energy in his room either.
"Hey, Braker." Butch leaned against the wall. "I have some news. Mojo and Blossom may have found something out about Brick's condition. If it's good, Brick might wake up soon. You gonna let him beat you to the punch? Brick's been gone for ages. You should try and bounce back before he does." He chuckled weakly. "You usually have the energy for it after all, and we're both competitive enough so that neither of us wants to lose to Brick of all people, right?"
There was no reply. Of course there's no reply, Butch thought bitterly. He sighed in disappointment and turned away. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the result had definitely gone against those unclear expectations. But then, just as Butch was about to leave, Braker stirred. The green Ruff spun back around to stare at his brother, but nothing else happened. He tried to watch for longer, but two minutes passed and still Braker didn't awaken or even move any more. The desperation inside Butch grew, until...
"BOYS!" Mojo's screech pierced the silent atmosphere of the Ruffs' now rather depressing home like a knife cutting through thick, gray cloth. "COME QUICKLY!"
Butch hesitated, glancing back once more at his brother. Then he flew down to Mojo's lab, wondering what was going on, and whether or not things were okay.
No one was picking up. Not Blossom, not Butch, not even Mojo. Groaning in frustration, Buttercup rolled her eyes and threw her phone down on her bed. She flopped down on her back with her arms spread out, staring at the ceiling and wondering what they were up to.
The night's earlier events were still replaying in her head, like a broken recorder that she couldn't turn off. It was like the scenes of an action movie she'd watched, leading to her coming out of the theatre shaken and shocked. She couldn't forget Damon's creepy smile and his gun, or his taunting voice and hollow laugh. But she wanted to.
She felt like she had heard his name before, but she couldn't remember why it was important. Then again, she thought bitterly, there's a lot of things involving the Ruffs I just don't seem to know enough about. I wish I had a special file of mysterious things surrounding those boys so I wouldn't forget.
She rolled over and dug her face into the pillow. She felt tired. All she wanted to do was sleep and never wake up. There were just too many things to think about.
Buttercup played with the strings on her hoodie, eyes half-closed as she imagined Butch scolding Blossom for making the Ruffs worry. She hoped her goody-two-shoes sister wouldn't end up spilling the beans about what she and her sisters were doing outside so late. She couldn't help but think about Brick as well, and whether or not he'd ever wake up again. The thought of him being away so long again was depressing.
Not that I'm worried about him. Folding her arms, she pouted before relaxing as her eyes saddened. Then she sighed. Though she didn't want to admit it...
...I am worried about him.
Next thing on her list of things to worry about was Ross. She wasn't sure what was going to happen to him; like when he'd wake up, or how he'd be. No one had expected Brick to get amnesia. What if something like that happened to Ross? Or worse?
Buttercup shuddered. She didn't want to imagine the possibilities. The very image of talking to Ross one last time was terrifying...
Then there's Braker. I wonder when he'll ever wake up?
And Bandit? Where'd he recently go?
Or even Michael, Banana's new boyfriend? He's recently gone missing.
Digging her face into her pillow again, Buttercup groaned loudly. There was so much going on, and yet there weren't enough answers going around. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. She wanted to help everyone.
Sighing, Buttercup rested her cheek on the soft pillow and thought of everything that had happened, before drifting off to sleep...
For a long time, the only thing in his mind was complete and utter blankness. All that filled his head was black, and he couldn't think or feel or say anything.
But then something cut through his vision like a swooping bird, and suddenly he could feel the light pressing against his eyelids. His lashes fluttered open and he tried to form words as the world around him steadied.
Someone gasped. "H-He's awake!" they cried.
It was a girl.
Beside her, a boy with long brown hair tied in a ponytail was smiling weakly. "Finally," he whispered.
A boy with blond hair was grinning with what seemed like relief, eyes watering. He briefly wondered why the boy looked so happy and yet so sad at the same time, and why this stranger wanted to cry.
Who are these people?
"Do you have any idea how worried we've been? We've been trying to get you back for so long now," the girl had started rambling breathlessly. Her voice only further jumbled his thoughts, because he felt like it should've been recognizable, but instead it left him confused. Because at that moment, he couldn't remember the girl—or any of the guys around him—at all.
He blinked at her, trying to place her face among the fuzzy shapes in his memory. "Who...?" he whispered, the word almost not leaving his lips. He moaned in pain and gripped his head, flashes appearing and disappearing in his mind's eye.
"Wait. He looks confused. Don't tell me he has amnesia again," a boy with dark, black hair groaned.
"That would be terrible," added a boy with blue eyes and shaggy blond hair.
She finally paused. "Brick...? Don't you remember me?"
As soon as she said his name, something clicked. He did recognize her. Blossom.
"Brick...?"
All of a sudden, memories came flooding back to him. He cried out, bouncing backwards in a shock as each and every memory resurfaced. It was as if they had been drowning in a deep, murky black lake until this very moment, when her voice calling his name had somehow managed to grasp the threads and pull them back out again. He held his head in both hands, letting out a low groan. He felt dizzy. He felt unsteady. He felt overwhelmed.
But then through the chaos, she was there, her face in front of his. "Are you okay?" she murmured, concerned. Her beautiful pink eyes were wide.
He stared at her blankly for a few moments as his mind simply pulled out memory after memory of her. Blossom. When they were children, when they were enemies, when they were friends, when they fought, when she helped him in his own head... His heart started pounding against his ribcage and his throat closed up. He gulped in air as the memories continued to overwhelm him. "Blossom?" he finally forced out.
"You remember me now!" she gasped excitedly.
He motioned for her to lean forward.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Thank you for everything, Blossom."
"It's no problem." She looked relieved enough to cry. The sight made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. So much so that he decided to question her a little more:
"Did you miss me?"
She blinked, before sighing with relief. "Of course I missed you. It's so great to see you're back and well, Brick. There's so much you need to get caught up on, since you've been out for so long"—she paused as she remembered exactly how long it had been trying to catch her breath while still rambling—"and wow yes oh God have I missed y—"
That was all the confirmation he needed. Brick smiled.
Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
BRICK: . . .
BLOSSOM: Oh my God.
ME: Told ya you guys would like a certain scene in here for sure.
BRICK: You made me kiss Blossom!?
ME: Yes.
BRICK: I...don't know what to say to this.
BLOSSOM: *blushes madly*
ME: No need to thank me. Just doing my job.
BRICK: I...I just—what.
ME: Yup. That happened. *thumbs-up* See ya all later, everybody! Hope you liked this chapter, and don't forget to review! Maybe you guys can remind Brick and Blossom this is right and get them out of shock!
VINCENT: But what about me?
ME: Shhh, baby. Shhh.
BRICK: I'm still...what. Holy shit what.
BLOSSOM: . . .
BUBBLES: *giggles* Don't forget to review!